I know, I know, I SUCK!

No copyright infringement intended.

some hours later

She's trying to torture me.

My arms rest on the back of the leather bench as she sits on my lap, grinding her hips, her pussy destroying my cock.

She's roaring for round two. I know it. Everyone knows it. Her dripping pussy knows it.

First go around was full of doubts and what integrity I could muster, but, fuck if I even know what integrity is right now.

I can't touch her out here. She knows what she's doing. I don't want her to tease me like this. I really want her to tease me like this. I want her to ride my cock until I'm making a mess of the both of us.

"Your tits are pretty," I rasp, watching them bounce as she moves. I want to gnaw on those nipples until they're red and sore. My mouth's watering for it.

She bites her lip, trying not to smile, and grinds down on me a smidge harder.

Holy fuck.

"Does it feel good?" She asks - silly little sex thing that she is - and rubs a soft finger across my lips.

I don't answer her. I can't. Instead, I part my lips and pull her finger into my mouth, sucking and licking at it, wetting it real good while she continues to ruin my pants.

I want to break her rules. I want to grip her hips and throw her on the table - take my time blowing her pretty little back out.

"You're touching me," she says, and I shake my head and wiggle my fingers, grinning with her finger clamped between my teeth.

She does this magnificent roll of her hips, and my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head, a tortured groan leaving my throat.

My phone vibrates on the table, but do I care?

Fuck no.

"You going to get that?" She asks, slipping her finger from my mouth and moving it to her hard nipple, rubbing it gently.

Shit.

"No," I say, mesmerized at the movement of her small finger doing what I'm dying to do with my tongue.

The phone continues to vibrate, but the world could be ending right now, and I wouldn't give a shit.

Two shots are placed on the table, the bartender sparing us a glance before he walks away.

I'm parched.

Reaching out, I grab one of the glasses, draining it as my eyes lock on hers. She licks her lips, and I just know that my cock would fit between those soft pillows nicely. Grabbing the other glass, I hold it up to her mouth. She wraps her lips around the rim, tilting her head back as she swallows the entire contents.

"I want to fuck that mouth," I say, banging a fist on the red leather and pulling the glass from her lips.

"Times up," some dickhead says, standing at the table, his eyes on B.

B smiles at me, her hips slowing, and fuck no, don't stop. "This was fun," she says, glancing over her shoulder, nodding at the cockblocker behind her.

He walks away as B slides off me, and fuck, my cock is throbbing. "Where're you going?" I ask, pushing a hand against my dick. I want round two. Three. One hundred more.

"You're not the only one paying for me," she says, and fuck if that's not a slap in the dick.

Standing from the booth, I grab my phone and shove it in my pocket, taking a step toward her, ready to rip those wet panties off right here, so I can take it to her. Again.

But then Emmett's wrapping an arm around me, and B's walking away, and fuck, her ass…

"How was it?" Emmett asks.

"Fuck off," I say. "Just a few drinks, my ass."

"But, fuck, was it worth it."

Who could argue with that?

…

I have no idea what time it is when I walk through the front door. Angela's nowhere to be seen, which is a damn good thing since I'm empty handed and smell like B's sweet pussy.

Fuck, what have I done?

But, more importantly, when can I do that shit again?

I bang my knee on the end table, and bite down on my lip to stop every fucking fuck word from leaving my lips as I blindly walk through the livingroom.

I'm not afraid, though.

Fuck if Emmett didn't open my eyes.

Closing myself in the hall bathroom, I strip out of my clothes and stand under the warm spray until it runs cold.

After drying off, I toss the towel in the hamper and walk to the room I share with Angela. She's asleep, her back to me, and even though I have plans to end this shit, I slide beneath the soft sheets.

Closing my eyes, I imagine all the things I'd have done to B if I was still in that booth, well, back in her room where I could actually touch her again - rub my cock all over her. Again.

Reaching down, I squeeze my dick, not crazy about yanking one out with Angela and her nightgown right there, but B's got my balls aching like they've never ached before. She's probably getting railed by some other guy right now, but yet, my fist is pumping my dick, imagining the feel of that tight pussy coming all over me.

Angela stirs, but I don't stop fucking my fist. I'm in too deep at this point. If I don't come now, my balls may just explode. She doesn't wake, not even when I groan loud and long, spurts of warm cum splattering my stomach and hand.

Fuck.

Using the sheet, I wipe myself clean, knowing that's fucked up, but I'm spent. I need some sleep before shit hits the fan.

Angela's going to rip my balls off.

…

Gasping, I jerk upright, water dripping down my face and all down my chest.

"What the fuck?" I snarl, turning to find Angela holding a pitcher in her hand.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" She says, tossing the pitcher on the bed, and crossing her arms over her chest. "I told you Emmett's a bad influence."

Grabbing her pillow, I wipe down my face before tossing it aside. "Look, Ang…" I say, standing from the bed. What am I going to say? Look, Ang, I let a prostitute fuck my brains out last night, and well, I don't want to marry you.

Yeah, so, I paid for sex last night. Well, Emmett did. Is this who I am? A man so desperate that he pays for his pussy. I want to say no, but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't pay to tear B in two. I'd do it. I'd fuck her shit up and swallow those sweet sounds she makes when I'm digging deep.

Shit, I need to focus.

"…this isn't gonna work for me."

"What?"

Fuck, now is not the time for my dick to get hard. Turning my back on her, I stroke my erection once before opening a drawer and pulling on some shorts.

When I turn back, Angela's staring at me like I just ran over her puppy. She doesn't even have a puppy. She doesn't like animals. I do, though. I want a puppy.

I want a lot of things - things Angela can't give me. I would have settled for her. If not for Emmett leading me astray, I'd have married Angela and became her whipping boy all the while wishing I could bend her over, pull her hair and fuck her brains out. Missionary and grandma nighties are not the life for me.

It had only been months back then. I hadn't even told her I love her. Did I? Do I? I don't think I do. I don't think I ever could.

Plus, I was tying my goddamn shoe.

"I'm not going to marry you," I say.

Fuck, that feels good.

"Yeah, I'm not marrying you, Ang."

God, my dick is so hard right now, which is strange and awkward, but I don't even need a cigarette. My hands aren't even shaking.

I can breathe…

"Ah, fuck," I yell, holding a hand to my bleeding head, watching the pitcher shatter at my feet.

Blood drips down my hands, splattering at my feet, and yet, my dick is throbbing.

I don't get it, but fuck it, because I can goddamn breathe.