I shove the towel into his chest then grab one for myself. He doesn’t dry off. Instead, he wraps the towel around his head. I can honestly say I have never seen a guy do that. The water glistens against his skin and I feel my nipples strain against my lace bra and wet T-shirt. What do I find attractive in a guy? Oliver. His name is now synonymous with handsome, thoughtful, funny, and scorchingly sexy. He is the official litmus test for all other men.
He sways a bit then takes a few unsure steps past me. I check out his firm, bare ass and can’t help myself.
Smack!
He freezes, not even turning to look at me. “You. Did. Not. Just. Spank. Me.”
I open my mouth then close it. My face scrunches into a nervous grimace. “I … I didn’t spank you. I … just patted you on the butt.”
“You spanked me.”
“It was a playful … smack.”
“It was a spank.”
“A spank is bending someone over your knee and hitting their butt. This was a … I don’t know, sort of a … high five to your ass, like athletes do to each other.”
He turns and I see the devil in his eyes—wicked. As he steps closer, I look left then right to assess my situation and plan my escape route. I notice he’s still swaying a bit. His inebriated state should give me a slight advantage.
I fake right then go left into the bedroom toward the door. He rams into the wall at first then lunges for me as I round the corner.
Crash!
“Goddammit!”
I turn. “Oli! Oh shit, oh no …” He’s on the floor and there’s blood running down his face. “What happened?” I take the towel that’s fallen off his head and hold it to the gash next to his eye.
“I tripped and hit the fucking corner of the dresser!”
“It looks bad, I think you’re going to need stitches.”
“No shit!”
I don’t appreciate his attitude, but given the circumstances I let it slide.
“Uh … hold this to your head while I get you some clothes.” I run into his closet and grab the first things I see. Dressing drunk Oliver with my shaky hands, his lack of coordination, and blood freely flowing from his head proves to be a challenge.
I help him down the stairs. “I’m so very sorry, Oli.”
“Grab my keys.”
I help him out the door and down the stairs. He plods to the driver’s side.
“Oliver, you’re not driving.”
“Well, neither are you.”
I open the passenger door and dangle his key. “Yes, I am. Now get in!”
He collapses in the seat showing more coordination than I expected. The alcohol must be wearing off. I slip in the driver’s seat and fasten in.
“Ahh … you’re wet! My leather seats!”
I glare at him. “Really, Oli? You’re drunk with blood still running down your face, but you’re worried about your leather seats?” I pull out onto the street and he grips the arm rest with his free hand.
It’s possible I’ve been told that I drive like a maniac.
“Slow down!”
“Pipe down.”
“I’m serious.”
I speed up taking the corner much faster than I should.
“Jesus! Slow down!”
“Chill out, Oli. I got an A in Driver’s Ed.”
Oliver
Vivian is dangerous to my health. She should come with a huge warning label and a list of side effects. I thought all three of us were going to perish on the way to the hospital—her, me, and my car. Indie drivers look like Driving Miss Daisy compared to Vivian.
My drunken brain has tapered off to a light buzz, just enough to still feel a little punchy.
“I think eight stitches should do it.” The ER doctor finishes sewing my head back together. “How did this happen?”
“She spanked me while I was naked and then I fell into the corner of the dresser.”
The doctor smiles. He’s clearly amused by my comment. Vivian … not so much.
“Oh my God! I …” Her eyes bug out and her jaw plummets to the floor. “He’s kidding … that’s not what happened.”
As the saying goes, if looks could kill … yep, I’d be dead.
The doctor turns and grins at Vivian. “Is it raining out?”
She looks down at her wet clothes and grabs a few strands of her wet hair. “Um … no …”
“She couldn’t even wait to take her clothes off before jumping in the shower with me.”
Another fatal glare. “I’ll be in the waiting room!” She huffs.
“You’re not the son I imagined seeing in the ER.” My dad enters the room.
“Hey, how’d you know I was here?”
He steps closer and looks at my cut, shaking his head. “I’m listed as your emergency contact, and while this isn’t an emergency they made a professional courtesy call to me anyway. How’d this happen?”
The ER doctor grins. I’m sure he’s waiting to see if I give the same explanation to my dad.
“Too much to drink with Chance tonight. I face-planted into the corner of my dresser.”
“Don’t you think you’re too old to be spending your Monday nights at a bar?”
“Probably. What can I say … it’s been a rough day. You off?”
“Just got out of surgery, so yes, I’m heading home. Do you need a ride?”
“I have my car.” I ease off the table.
“You’re in no condition to be driving.”
I point toward the waiting room. “Vivian’s here.”
“Oh, come on. I’ll say hi before I leave.”
I follow him out realizing the upper hand I had ten minutes earlier is slipping fast.
“Vivian!”
She stands with a mix of a smile and grimace on her face. “Mr. Konrad.”
“Please, call me Hugh.” He hugs her which is very uncharacteristic for him. I get the feeling that if there were teams tonight he would be on Team Vivian.
He pulls back looking her over. “Is it raining out?”
She rolls her eyes then looks at me with her jaw clenched. “No, this is a side effect of taking care of your drunk son.” Her lips curl into a see-how-it-feels-to-be-thrown-under-the-bus smile.
My dad turns, giving me a wide-eyed look. I shrug.
“Well, thanks for taking care of him. Make sure he treats you right.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. If he only knew what this woman has put me through today.
Vivian smiles. “Oh, I will.”
Dad pats me on the shoulder. “Looks like you’re in good hands.”
He wouldn’t say that if she drove him home.
“Mmm, yes. See ya, Dad.”
Vivian dangles my key again. “Shall we?”
We make it back in record time, the screech of the tires and the whispering of my desperate prayers the only sounds breaking the silence.
She tosses my keys on the counter. “Um … so, is there anything else you need before I go home?”
I chuckle and stare at her, loving the way she squirms when I look at her. She’s fidgety, unsure of where to look and what to do with her hands.
“As a matter of fact, there is one more thing I need.” I move closer, backing her up against the wall.
She risks a quick glance up and swallows. “What’s that?” she squeaks.
I peel her damp top off and my dick goes from hard to concrete when I see her firm nipples pressed into red lace. Her shorts go next. I love seeing her chest rise and fall like a strong tide as full red lips part and soft eyes gaze at me on my knees. Pressing my nose to her matching lace panties, I inhale her scent and smile when I hear her breath catch.
I don’t recognize myself with her. Thoughts and desires that I used to suppress have been unleashed and can no longer be ignored. Gripping her thighs, I clench the waist of her panties with my teeth and drag them down her legs.