Page 17 of Driven By Dragonblood
“What the fuck?”
I clenched my eyes shut at the slurred voice stating the question on the tip of my own tongue. I’d been so lost in my lust, I hadn’t heard Jessie let herself into the home I’d thought she’d left for good.
“Jerking off in the goddamn kitchen over my letter?” She snorted, pulling my focus toward where she stood in the doorway. She weaved on her feet, her eyes bloodshot and hazy, voice slurred as usual. “You’re a sick fuck, Pat.”
Fuck, I hated that nickname, but she didn’t lie.
The truth of why a mess of my seed lay cooling on the floor could never be made known to her, so I let her believe what she would.
I straightened, tucking my spent dick away, the after-effects of my climax still making me feel shaky and light-headed. “You’re drunk.”
“As a skunk!” She laughed and shuffled toward the table, slamming her bony hip on one of the chairs. “Goddamnit,” she muttered, kicking the offending piece of furniture and almost falling over before plopping her ass onto the seat.
Lips pressed tight, I turned my back on her and grabbed some paper towels to wipe up the mess I’d made. “I thought you weren’t coming back,” I shared what I’d been thrilled to learn. Her leaving had kept me from having to pull the plug on yet another failed relationship.
“Yeah…didn’t plan on it, but I’ve got no other place to go, you know?”
I did—but Jessie was no longer my problem. She’d ended things between us, and no way would I be swayed into letting her stay.
“Call your sister,” I stated, firmly squatting to wipe my cum off the floor.
“I’m not calling thatbitch,” Jessie muttered, her voice muffled.
I glanced up to find her head buried in her arms folded atop the table. This wouldn’t be the first time she passed out cold, seated like that.
I tossed the drenched paper towels in the waste can, letting her stay put rather than carry her to the couch with a bucket close by like I’d done a lot in the previous few months.
“Fuck this.” I strode into the entryway and rifled throughher handbag for her cell phone. Her sister answered the third time I tried calling.
“The fuck you want?” she growled.
“It’s Patrick. Your sister is passed out at the kitchen table and needs a place to crash.”
“She’s there, isn’t she? Put her in your goddamn bed.”
And I’d thought Jessie was a bitch. “She broke up with me and is no longer welcome here.” I clipped each word with finality, barely managing to keep from raising my voice.
“Well, I’m not coming to get her.”
“Then she’s sleeping out on the front porch.”
“Bastard.”
My pulse throbbed in my temple, causing an immediate headache. “She’s the one who left a letter saying she hated me, didn’t want to stay one more goddamn night under the same roof as me. Need I go on?”
“She was probably drunk when she wrote it—you know how she gets. Just let her sleep it off there. She’ll be all over your dick in the morning, and everything will be fine.”
The hell it would be. “Come get her, or I’ll have the cops remove this trespasser from my home.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her voice betrayed her question.
“Twenty minutes, or I’m making that call.” I hung up, more than ready to have the authorities rid me of Jessie for good.
My ex snored, and I left her in the kitchen, while heading upstairs to see if she’d left any personal belongings behind.
I walked into my bedroom to find she hadn’t packed up one goddamn thing after writing that letter. I gathered the essentials she would need to get started in her new life without me. The rest would have to wait.
A few minutes later, Jessie’s sister cursed me out when I yanked the door open one-handed to her knock, my armbeneath Jessie’s shoulders keeping her upright while she struggled to make sense of the world.
