I yanked it back as I seethed with anger. How dare his ass put his hands on me?
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” I bit out with what was left of my self-control, but he didn’t relent. Instead, he pulled me more firmly to him, making me gasp and no doubt leaving a mark on my body.
“You know we love you. We just want to protect you. If you’d listen to what we said about Antonio, I wouldn’t be here, cleaning up your fucking mess.”
A red, hazy film covered my eyes as I used every ounce of strength to rip my arm out of his firm grasp. He stood there in shock, looking at his hand like he couldn’t believe I had actually been able to get away from him. Apparently, I was stronger than I looked. He’d do best to remember that.
“You go clean up my mess, brother,” I snapped even though Scraper had said it was handled. I was just pissed he had made the comment in the first place. “That is your job, after all,” I sassed, leaving quickly with Scraper and my Ghost—who had come into play during the altercation—on my heels.
I just caught the smirk that played on Jag’s face as I breezed by him and Ace.
Outside, Scraper opened the car door for me, and I climbed into the passenger seat of the sleek, black automobile, feeling the coolness of the leather on my thighs. It did nothing to cool down the raging inferno inside of me, though. I only wanted to go home.
I replayed the night in my head on a loop, the alcohol simmering in my veins. My brother was at the forefront of the raging thoughts. He couldn’t expect me to continue on like this, being under this thumb, crushing me. He had flat out told Jag I was off limits. What right did he have to do that? None.
Before I could finish my thoughts, we were home.
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JAG
by
Stevie J. Cole
C HAPTER 1
My mouth was dry like someone had shoved a fistful of cheap off-brand cotton balls in it. I ran my tongue over my teeth to wipe the film of bourbon off. Yawning, I rolled onto my back and stretched out in the king-sized bed before lifting the sheets back over my body. The smell of detergent floated up to my nose, and my lips curled up. No matter how nice the suite was, the sheets always smelled like that damn hotel laundry detergent. I couldn’t stand that smell.
I heard someone next to me pull in a deep breath, and then the covers shifted off my body. Seconds later, I felt warm skin against mine as a hand wrapped around my stiff-ass dick. Fingers skimmed along its length, stopping to play with the metal bar lodged through the head.
I slowly opened my eyes. The sun was beaming in through one of the windows, and all I could see out of it was an overly crowded skyline. The sun glinted from the windows of the concrete skyscrapers competing for space; only a few slivers of blue sky managed to peep between them. I’d almost forgotten that I was in New York City. I couldn’t really recall how she’d ended up with me, and I certainly had no idea what her fucking name was. To the best of my knowledge, I guessed she’d been at the club the night before. It wasn’t out of the usual at all for me to wake up with an unknown woman beside me. It was habitual. One day, I’d probably luck out and bring back a psycho that’d try to off me, but I’d worry about that when it happened. Most of the time the sex was worth that small risk—at least it usually was when I could remember it.
Do Iwant to look over and see what she looks like, or not? That’s one of the pluses about not letting them stay with you— you don’t have to look poor judgment in the face.
Her grip tightened, and she gently stroked me in her hand. “Good morning,” she whispered.
I grunted and closed my eyes again. I hated when they ended up staying the night. That was never the plan because it was so fucking awkward the next morning when I was sober and trying to piece together what all we’d done. I hated having to talk to them, having to listen to them go on and on about what a big fan they were. They’d all say fucking me was the most amazing thing that’d ever happened to them. Worst of all, I hated having them ask me if they could post the pictures from the night before on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Fangirls, they’re just dying to brag about having been bent over backwards and rammed by me, and rightfully so. It was quite the achievement.
Peeping through one halfway-opened eye, I saw a woman. Okay. Well, at least I got that right despite being completely wasted. She looked to be about twenty-four. And thank God. She’s legal. Her platinum blonde hair stuck up in all directions, and black rings of mascara were smudged underneath her eyes. This girl was an absolute mess. It was obvious I’d been there and had a good time marking my territory.
Don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t bad looking, but she was absolutely no different than the rest of the other privileged rich girls whose daddies bought their horny daughters’ way into the VIP areas. When she smiled, nothing on her face moved. When she abruptly sat up and slid her way down to my dick, her unnaturally round tits didn’t budge either. It was evident she’d already started with the plastic surgery addiction. This was the kind of girl I was used to: fake, horny, and willing to do anything for a brush with fame.
A slight giggle bounced from her lips as she tugged the covers off my naked body.Her warm, slimy tongue, coated with morning breath germs traced up my shaft. The sensation sent a small tingle shooting up from my groin. I looked down to find her staring up at me, her eyes locked intimately on mine as she sucked half of me back into her throat.
I let out a short sigh. Leaning back, I shut my eyes, no hint of a smile on my face. The way she wrapppped her tongue around me felt damn good. Even though I had no interest in her being there, I wasn’t going to deprive her of the joy she’d get from watching me get off one more time. I tried not to be selfish with that privilege.
After just a few minutes of her head bobbing up and down, her hand twisting at just the right moments, and her choking on my length a few times, I felt my body relax. My legs stiffened up, and then my entire body heated from the overwhelming rush of endorphins coursing through me. It’s amazing how quickly orgasms come when you’re not strung out on coke, or a bottle of oxycodone, or speed. Quicker, but weak compared to the euphoria that drugs granted me.
When that initial warm and fuzzy feeling wore off, I was ready to get her the hell out of my hotel room. Sitting up, I said, “Thanks for the great blow job. Pretty sure the door’s still unlocked,” and I flung my naked ass back down across the bed.
I watched her blink a couple of times, shocked at how rude I was being. I mean, she had just given me the gift of oral pleasure, and who knows what I told her the night before. I may have promised her she could go on tour with us. She narrowed her eyes. Here comes the ‘OMG, I can’t believe what a bastard he is’ huff that chicks are so good at in 3, 2, 1... A loud breath flew out of her collagen plumped lips, and the springs of the mattress bounced as she hopped up. She mumbled to herself while gathering her things. I just laid there, staring up at the ceiling.