Page 26 of Run For Me
“Yep. See you in thirty?”
He nods and we go our separate ways.
A party is exactly what I need to get my mind off all this shit with the little dove and my annoyance with my parents.
Little alcohol, maybe some weed, and a lot of fucking pussy.
Contrary to my earlier idea of this party, it does not take my mind from anything.
I find myself moping around for hours, chasing a buzz that never comes. No matter how much I drink, how much I smoke, I feel as sober as a nun.
I can say it has nothing to do with the party and everything to do with me. The music is loud, the atmosphere energized. There’s over three hundred people squished in this house. Most of the girls have their tits out, and I’ve already caught three different people fucking in dark corners.
I grab a beer, wondering if something so simple could do the job and get me drunk. Doubt it, but it’s my last try. Vodka, rum, and even the tequila hasn’t done shit so far. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point.
The music grows louder from the other room as I pop the top of the can and take a long swig. Tastes like shit, considering all they have is cheap ass beer. I move toward the living room and stop in the doorway, which is when I see why the music has bumped up. The guys have formed a big circle, with a group of girls dancing in the middle.
Colton catches my attention by flailing his arm at me. He’s on the sofa on the far wall that’s part of this makeshift circle, getting a front row, VIP seat to the show. I push through the crowd andmake my way to him. He and the other guy sitting on the couch, someone I don’t know, push over, making room for me on the center cushion. I sit back and watch, sipping my beer.
The girls are hot, with tight bodies, big tits, and nice asses, and there’s a good variety too. Blonde hair, brown hair, and even a redhead. One girl has long black hair down to her ass, with a few tattoos on her upper arm and a trashy tramp stamp sticking out of her low-cut jeans.
At first, it seems like they’re just putting on a show, but I soon realize they’re competing. Of course they are. Fucking women and their need to hate on every other human with a pussy. My annoyance with the whole thing quickly dissipates when the redhead pulls off her shirt, showing off pale tits with blush pink nipples.
“Hell fucking yes!” Colton shouts, pumping his fist in the air and taking a mouthful of his drink.
A smirk crosses my lips as the other girls catch on and they, too, take their shirts off. One of the blondes saunters over to the couch and gets down to her red lacey thong. She turns and shakes her ass in front of me and Colton to “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry. Colton slaps her ass, leaving an instant red mark, and the girl glances over her shoulder to grin at us.
Ah, so that’s how it is?
She turns, straddles my lap and shoves her bare tits in my face. Colton hoots and hollers, the crowd growing wild. Yeah, everyone loves a pair of tits in their face. They’re good tits, but they aren’t hers.
Fuck, why am I still thinking about her?
The girl on my lap reaches for my hands and cups her tits with them. Fake. I inwardly groan. Can anyone just be them-fucking-selves, or what?
Still, for the sake of the party and my mental health, I play with her nipples, making them hard. She throws her head back,pushing into my touch, which is when Colton reaches over and swipes his finger along her pussy.
“She’s wet for you, man,” he shouts in my ear.
If this were any other day, that shit would make me harder than diamonds. Today? I think my cock’s run for the hills.
Chapter Eighteen
Sailor
I’m exhausted when I get home from classes. I barely slept last night, and I’d love nothing more than to plop into bed and sleep until tomorrow. Hell, I’d sleep longer if I could, but I’m bombarded when I walk through the door, which only sours my mood on so many levels.
“How was your day?” Sam asks cheerily.
“Fine. I’m going to bed.”
“Bed? Why?” He stares at me from the couch, his face screwed up into confusion, the remote in his hand.
“Because I’m tired? Isn’t that why people go to sleep?” I walk to the bedroom and place my bag on the floor, kick my shoes off and fall into bed. It creaks under me. Maybe it’s time for a new mattress. I have a ton of money to spend; I may as well use it for things I need. I’ve had this same mattress for as long as I can remember. This room has been mine since I was born, but I only used it full time when I moved in with my grandparents after my mother died. Before that, I only used it when I came over, mostly on the weekends.
My eyes flutter shut and my body relaxes, the aches slowly leaving me as I give my muscles a break. Sleep is right there, just out of reach, when I hear Sam’s voice.
“I think we need to talk.”
