Disclaimer: Naruto and the Tool are the property of their respective owners. I am is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the material. I don't own anything. I didn't write this story only put Naruto characters in place of the original characters. I didn't write this story only replaced various things. The original is by Sabrina Paige
Chapter 8
Sasuke POV
Thump thump thump thump. The pounding of the bass in the club vaguely matches the throbbing of my head. I should be fucking ecstatic, sitting in the VIP section of one of the hottest clubs in Vegas, getting paid to hit on hot girls and drink only the most expensive liquor. Karin isn't even glued to my side like I thought she'd be. As far as I know, she'd be all over me in a heartbeat if I gave her the green light, she's also all about business and she knows that it's good for business for me to be picking up chicks. It's all about the motherfucking brand.
The problem is, all of this is for show. I still have my boot on, which gives me a great excuse for sitting here with my leg propped up instead of having to fake being into this whole thing. And I'm drinking club soda instead of liquor. I haven't even banged a single model in the bathroom.
Sasuke Uchiha, sober and celibate. Hell really has frozen right the fuck over.
Maybe I'm having a stroke or something. Personality change is a symptom of stroke, isn't it? Or I have a brain tumor. I make a mental note to talk to my doctor when I get back to Konoha: "Doc, I'm feeling different from my usual whorish self. I think I might be ill." It's a perfectly legitimate concern.
The girl on my right paws at me, leaning over, her long pink hair grazing my arm, and for a second when I glance at her hair, I'm reminded of Sakura.
As if I could forget Sakura. She's been running through my head since we left Konoha. Last night, I threw my phone at the bottom of my bag and watched TV in the hotel room until I passed out, just so I could avoid thinking about her and where she was going dressed the way she was. At the fan event today, I could have sworn I saw her in the crowd.
Maybe I do have a fucking tumor.
"I'm not wearing panties." The girl has to yell it into my ear, despite being so close to me I can feel her lips against my skin. I look down at her, letting my gaze linger on her long tan legs and her short-short white dress. The dress with no panties underneath.
"Maybe next time," I say. Part of me thinks I should say yes. What I need to do is take that girl in the bathroom and fuck her up against the bathroom stall. I could shake myself out of this slump.
Except it's not as much of a slump as it is the fact that my thoughts are preoccupied with Sakura.
The girl slides her hand over my chest, and I push it away, careful not to be too forceful. I want to fling it off me, get her disgusting paw away from me. But Sasuke Uchiha doesn't do that. Sasuke Uchiha is always up for a good time.
She leans in closer. "I'm up for anything," she says. "Anything."
I groan. Normally, I'd be all over this. The girl is hot – she's tall, thin, looks like she stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, and she's offering anything. Anything is exactly what I like to hear.
And I'm turning it down?
Something is definitely wrong with me.
I break down and text Sakura.
Have you used it yet?
It's not more than a minute before she responds.
Of course not.
Then, a second later, she sends another text:
Obviously, I built a shrine to it in my room.
I'm sure Sakura was so embarrassed by it that she has it stashed away somewhere in the room where no one would ever find it. Under her bed, maybe, or in the closet. She's private like that. She embarrasses easily. I used to love getting a rise out of her, watching her blush when I'd say anything even remotely sexual to her. Innuendo used to make her face turn pink. It's still just as fun getting under her skin.
Damn, he's meant to be touched, not to be put on a pedestal.
Karin catches my eye from where she sits at the other side of the VIP area and glares at me, then looks at the phone. It's business, I mouth, and she shakes her head. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm supposed to be partying, doing shots off the taut little abdomens of college girls.
The phone buzzes again and I click on the text.
I'm sure the real thing is getting plenty of touching in Vegas.
Sakura's obvious jealousy actually makes me pleased. I don't know why she's insecure. She's a fuckton more interesting than the girls I'm surrounded with, with their glazed-over eyes and their plastic bodies. She's smart as hell. Smarter than I am. She's also prettier than these chicks – looks real, you know? She's not a stick figure. She's normal. Curvy. Really fucking curvy.
In fact, my cock stirs just thinking about the way she looked, when she bursts through the door of the guesthouse in the middle of my photoshoot, her shirt completely see-through and clinging to her tits. If I think any more about Sakura and her curves, I'm going to have to go jerk off in the bathroom, and that could be awkward.
Jealous? I thought you had a hot date last night.
I can't resist asking. I want to know who the fuck she was with. I don't even know if she has a fucking boyfriend. She could have a damn fiancé, that's how much I know about her life since we've been apart. I don't even know why the fuck I care.
She's the one that got away. The thought floats through my head, and that's proof positive that I'm losing my damn mind. It's the fucking medication the doctor has me on that must be the problem. There's no way Sakura Haruno is some long lost love. The only thing that got away from me was the chance to hook up with her. That's what it is. She's just the one chick I never screwed. I should still be pissed as fuck at her for not showing up that night. And then for ignoring me, acting as if nothing ever happened between us. And for leaving for college after that. My phone buzzes again.
LOL. Date with a friend.
Yeah, right. What kind of friend is she dressing up for in boots like that? I'm annoyed thinking about her and one of her girlfriends out picking up guys. Or, hell, what if the friend is a guy?
A friend with benefits?
She doesn't respond. I flip around on my phone, paging through my social media accounts, while the music in the club provides an annoying background for my thoughts. I wait another few minutes and get no response, then slide my phone in my pocket.
Friend with benefits. The thought of Sakura hooking up with someone else makes me unnaturally angry. So angry, that when I look up to see Karin standing in front of me, I snap at her. "What?"
Chelsea leans in close, her hand on my arm, her breath warm against my ear. "You're not having fun."
I shrug. "I have to take a leak."
"The bodyguard will go with you."
Shit. I can't even fucking take a leak on my own, without having some three-hundred-pound gorilla hold my damn dick for me? Being rich and famous is a real trip, that's for damn sure.
I'm too tired to even argue with Karin. I don't care. The bodyguard parts the sea of people in the club and starts to follow me into the bathroom. "What?" I ask. "Are you going to fucking watch me take a leak now, too?"
He ignores me, going in first and looking around. Sakura's damn father apparently hires security who think they're guarding the President or something, instead of a two-bit celebrity like me.
I'm washing my hands, noting that Sakura still hasn't texted me back, when the door opens. I expect it to be the bodyguard, but it isn't. It's Karin.
"Shit. Can't I get two minutes of quiet?"
She pouts. That damn pout of hers has got to go. It's so fucking annoying. What is it with girls and pouting? It doesn't look cute; it looks juvenile. Sakura doesn't pout. The thought goes through my head and I want to rip it out of my brain. Screw Sakura and whoever she's hooking up within Konoha.
"Do you want me to leave?" Karin asks. She walks over to me, stands in front of me with her hand on her hip and one leg jutted out to the side. She knows how to work her body, I'll give her that much. She's wearing this little red number that offsets her skin and her red hair.
Do I want her to leave? I hesitate before I answer. "Whatever you're about to say, don't. It'll just make it awkward in the future, Karin."
She purses her lips, eyes me thoughtfully. But she doesn't move. "You're my client," she says. "Which means I'm at your disposal. And you look tense."
"I am fucking tense," I say. "When can we get out of here?"
"An hour longer," she says, stepping forward. I realize she thought that my saying I was tense was an invitation for more. "If you'd like, I can help you feel…less tense."
I should take her up on the invitation. Or take the other chick up on her invite for more. That would be the smart thing to do. That would be the Sakura thing to do.
But my phone is in my pocket, weighing heavy on my thoughts. And more specifically, Sakura is weighing on my thoughts. It's her I can't get out of my fucking head.
"Well?" she asks.
"Well, nothing, Karin," I say, my voice hard. "I hope I don't have to get a new manager at Karin because things got awkward between us."
Karin slides her palms down the sides of her dress, straightening the fabric. "I hope not," she says. "It would be a shame to lose you as a client."
Then she turns and walks out of the bathroom like nothing ever happened.
"I've always wanted you, Sasuke." Sakura unhooks her bra and tosses it to the floor, her petite breasts full in front of me. She shimmies out of her panties, shaking them from her thighs, the movement making her breasts sway.
I reach out to touch them, but she shakes her head, making a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue before she drops to her knees at my feet. Holy shit. I take her face in my hands, her skin smooth against my palms, and pull her face up to look at me. I can't stop looking at her. I can't believe this is Sakura– the girl I lusted after all summer, the girl I still can't stop thinking about. Classy, breathtakingly beautiful, out-of-my-league Sakura Haruno.
On her knees, her face so close to my cock I can feel her warm breath against my skin. Christ, my fucking dick is about to explode already.
She looks up at me, mischief in her eyes, then opens her mouth, touching the tip of her tongue to the head of my cock, where pre-cum already glistens on the tip. Her eyes never leave mine, and the fact that she's looking at me the way she is, her mouth open like she's begging for it, makes me want to come already.
"Shit, Sakura," I groan. "You keep doing that and I'm going to come all over that pretty little face of yours."
"Promises, promises, Sasuke," she says. "You're all talk." She reaches between my legs to cup my heavy balls with one hand as she wraps her lips around my cock, enveloping me with her warm wet mouth.
"I'll show you talk," I started to say, but I can't think as she works her magic lips, so I run my hands through her long dark hair, pulling her against me, forcing her to take me deeper. When she moans, the vibration from her throat reverberates up the length of my dick, and I want to let go.
I wake with a start, my heart pounding in my chest, sitting upright. Shit. A fucking dream about Sakura blowing me. That's just great. My cock is as hard as a damn rock. I lay back against the pillow. Giving Sakura hell for pure entertainment value is one thing, but a sex dream about her is something else entirely. She's made it more than crystal clear that she's not interested in me anymore. And there are plenty of women who are more than willing to be on their knees, mouths open for me.
Wrapping my hand around my cock, I stroke my length, closing my eyes to conjure up an image of an open-mouthed blonde with big tits, ready to wrap her plump lips around me. The problem is, I'm so fucking close already, thanks to my dream about Sakura, that it takes all of a minute to send me over the edge. And it's not an open-mouth blonde I'm thinking about. It's Sakura's face I see, Sakura's tits I can't stop imagining, Sakura's lips I picture wrapped around my cock. When I come, it's because of Sakura.
This is going to be a fucking problem.
