Missed Call. Caller ID unknown.
I’ve had numerous calls from an unknown number. It can only be work related, and I’m not up to dealing with that crap right now. For the past two days, I haven’t bothered to return a single fucking call I’ve received.
I amble into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and peel off last night’s clothes. Glancing at myself in the mirror, it becomes obvious I look like shit. My eyes are bloodshot, and the colour of my skin makes me look like a zombie. Shaking my head at myself, I turn away and step in the shower.
Water runs in rivers over my shoulders, down my back, and over my bowed head. My palms pressed against the cold tiles take my weight. Images of Lizzie’s pussy, swollen and pink with desire flood my mind. Blood flows with force to my cock. The twitch and swell of my erection growing only increases the images. Breathy moans, her taste on my lips, slick thrusts, her convulsions gripping and pulling me deeper. Fuck.
My throbbing cock screams at me, pleading for some release. I can’t stop thinking about her. With my left palm still splayed against the icy tiles, I grasp myself in my right hand before gliding my palm down the tender shaft a few times. The touch releases tension in my shoulders, a groan emits from my throat, as my face falls back into the stream of warm water. Tremors run up my spine as I tighten my fingers slowly around the girth, then rock my wrist to create the movement it’s begging for. With a firm grip and rhythmic pulses, I push myself further to the edge.
What the fuck am I doing?
I release myself and look down at my cock, the head bulging and red in anger.
Well join the fucking club.
I’ve not touched myself, brought on my own release, since I was old enough to get jacked off.
Liar.
My hand spasms with the need to grab hold of the relentless pulse between my legs. Lizzie. I’ve touched myself for her, only ever her. I slam my right palm against the wall, frustrated she holds that claim on me. On my self-fucking-restraint. I’ve been a walking hard-on for the last two days. I grasp at the temperature control and yank it to cold. I need to sort out this shit between us, and I need to do it now.
I exit the shower and barely dry myself off before shrugging on my boxer briefs and a pair of loose joggers. Barefooted and bare-chested, I pad down the stairs and into the kitchen. Bear leans up against the counter, already scowling at me.
Why did I give the fucker a key?
“You’re a fucking mess,” he points out. His tone’s a mixture of concern and disapproval.
“No shit. Tell me something I don’t know.” I fill the kettle and turn it on. “I’m just going to make something to eat, to help the hangover process. That’s if it’s okay with you?”
He ignores my sarcastic comment and continues. “You got your head out of your arse yet?”
“Haven’t you got somewhere to be? A job to go to?” I snarl. I just want him gone. My brain can’t cope with a lecture. I walk past him to the fridge and start getting ingredients out for breakfast.
“I take it Spud’s covering you, just for a change?” He doesn’t let me answer. “You’re a full-time job, mate, and no, I don’t have to go to work. I’ve got the lads running the shifts. So I’m all yours.”
How did I get to be the lucky one?
“Go to work. I’m fine.” Talking into the fridge, I try one last-ditch attempt to get him to leave. I know I’ve got no chance. With the last item dragged from the fridge, I turn to look at him.
“Sorry, not going anywhere, mate.” He hesitates. It’s imperceptible. If I didn’t know how to read him, I would have missed it. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”
That nearly gets my attention, but my sole focus is on getting rid of this fucking hangover. If I’m going to face Lizzie, I need a clear head.
“Can it wait until later? I’ve finally grown a pair, and when I’ve unsaturated my liver I’m going over to Layla’s to sort this shit out. You seem to be best fucking buddies with her. You got her address? Is Lizzie still there?”
Bear’s eyes widen slightly at my questions. “Yeah… yeah, I have it. And when you put it like that, yeah, it can.”
I could be mistaken, but I’m sure I see him breathe a sigh of relief. His forehead crinkles like it does when he’s worried about something.
“Everything okay with you?” The genuine concern for my friend overrides any thoughts of wanting him to fuck off.
He gives me a firm nod. “Yeah, absolutely fine. You want me to make something while you go and get some fucking clothes on?” He motions his head towards the food on the side.
My stomach growls. “Cheers, mate.” I head up the stairs to the sound of Bear clattering around in my kitchen.
When I make it back down, he’s made the fry-ups. He’ll make someone a great wife one day.
“You sure you’re ready to do this?” he mumbles at me through his mouthful of bacon. I’m rethinking the wife thing.
“Got no choice, mate. I need her.” My voice cracks a little and I clear my throat. “That means I’ve got to fight for her.” Although Bear knows the destruction I inflict on myself, we never really talk about my feelings for Lizzie. It’s just the way it is. Thankfully the alcohol seems to have drained itself from my liver, restoring my faculties to some form of working order.
“I don’t think there’ll be much resistance.” He laughs. “But keep that attitude; you’ll need it.”
What is the stupid bastard going on about now? Before I can voice the question he changes the subject.
“Don’t get on your bike for a couple more hours, mate. I know you think you’re safe, but don’t risk your life for a woman.” His forehead creases again.
“I’d die for her,” I state without hesitation, staring directly at him. I know it’s an over exaggeration for the situation, but still, it’s the truth.
He looks over at me, his mouth still full with food, and stares me hard in the eye. “Yeah, I know you would. But don’t you think it’d be a little foolish to do it before you got to see her?”
Fair point, well made. “I’ll leave it a couple of hours.”
Satisfied, Bear pushes his plate away. He gets up, drops a piece of paper with an address on it in front of me, then leaves without another word.
As my leg slides over the frame of my bike and I push the ignition, the usual calm washes through me. Before, my mind and heart were racing at a million miles per hour, so I’m thankful for the instant relief. I listen to the engine ticking over for a moment, and gather my senses as I rein in my fears.
Tweaking the throttle, I head off towards the address on the paper Bear left me. Not long after, I arrive at the crossroads, which tells me I’m near Layla’s house. Spotting a parking area, I decide to pull over and walk the rest of the way. I know I’m just trying to put off the inevitable. As I dismount, adrenaline pours into my system. I give myself a little time to think about how to deal with whatever is going to come my way. I know it won’t be fucking good.
What if she’s in love with him? What if she doesn’t want me? I’ve been such a bastard to her, burying myself in her then turning my back on her. She’s been through so much, and I’ve not behaved like a knight in shining armour. I’ve behaved like the fucked-up bastard I really am.
Sighing, I get off, take off my helmet, and run my hand over my stubbled head. With helmet in hand, I stride purposely down the road. With each step my breathing increases and the band around my chest tightens.
I round the corner to Layla’s and come to an abrupt halt as something catches my eye. My eyes widen and my heart rate increases to near explosive proportions.