Chapter 4: RONAN: Chapter 4

“…and then she said ‘no way! You first!’ and I said, ‘no way, you first!’ and none of us went at all!” Sherrie and Georgia throw their heads back and cackle with boisterous laughter.

I take another swig of my drink, long since needing to move on to the hard stuff.

“Another round?” Connor’s eyes are twinkling. Sherrie’s hands have been glued to his chest since we walked through the doors of the club. It’s only a matter of time before they make their way south to his lap. He knows he’s getting laid tonight and he’s as happy as an alley cat in a tuna factory.

Georgia’s been less forward, but I’m guessing that’s more on account of me being… me. I’m not outgoing and flirtatious like Connor. That’s not to say I don’t know the right words to say, or that I even need to say anything to attract women. But I’ve had plenty of them tell me that I’m intimidating—my green eyes are broody, my hard jaw is unyielding to easy smiles, my tattoos and buzz cut give me a dangerous edge. Whether they find all that attractive or they’re attracted to the idea of taming me, I can’t be sure. Either way, a lot of women throw themselves at me without me having to lift a finger. It used to drive Tasha crazy. She’d get so jealous, accuse me of cheating on her. No one seems to believe that I never touched another woman while I was with her.

I have since she dumped me. Twice, back in Indy. Both were girls I picked up at a club. I ended up at their places. Neither were anything to think twice about. Pretty, but without personalities. Decent lays, but nothing mind-bending. Both times, I actually found myself relieved to be walking out their doors, tossing their phone numbers as soon as I rounded the corner.

Maybe that’s why I’m not making too much of an effort tonight. I’d be just as happy to go home alone and sleep.

“I think I want to switch to something less sweet. What are you drinking, Ronan?” Georgia sidles closer to me. That’s what it’s been all night—her nudging my thigh here and there, resting her fingers on my biceps occasionally. She’s batted her eyes plenty. Subtle moves to let me know she’s interested but unsure how aggressive to be. But with each drink, the leash that holds her back slackens.

“Jack and Coke.”

“Is it any good?” She smiles sweetly at me. She really is as stunning as that picture I saw, though a lot of it is makeup. I can’t imagine her being nearly this stunning when she wakes up.

I hold the drink out to her.

Her eyes flash with excitement as she leans over, parting her lips for the tip of the straw. She makes a point of looking up at me through those soulful milk-chocolate eyes as she sucks. “Mmmm… Yes. I definitely want this.” She finishes it off with a swipe of her tongue along her bottom lip.

Yeah, I’m definitely getting laid tonight, if I want it.

“All right, this fucking waitress of ours is never coming back. We’ll go to the bar and grab a round. ” Connor tilts his head, signaling for me to follow.

“Don’t let anyone take our spots.”

“Never.” Georgia giggles, her eyes searing my body as I climb out of my seat in the shadowy alcove at the back of Sin nightclub. We’re in the VIP section, and apparently it’s impossible to get a table back there, but Sherrie is best friends with one of the managers.

I’m not gonna lie: I’ll take a VIP booth in the dark over the crowds of sweaty bodies.

But that’s where we’re heading now, as I follow Connor, the music pulsing louder with each step.

I can’t help but smile, pressing through the throng of bodies toward the closest bar, hordes of people surrounding it. I’ve never seen so many scantily clad, beautiful women in my life. The per capita of hot bodies in Miami is off the charts. I guess there’s something about beach life—when you live in a place where you own almost as many bikinis as you do other outfits, you tend to go the extra mile to look good in them. And, damn, these women look good.

I spot our cocktail waitress approaching us and my smile grows wider as I take in the sight. Full gold, orange, and black body paint from head to toe, and she’s wearing nothing but heels, a G-string, and pasties to cover her nipples. It’s one helluva uniform for a nightclub. All the servers are dressed and painted like various animals. Ours is a lion. Or a lioness, to be exact.

“I was just coming over to you guys,” she purrs, not an ounce of shyness over her revealing outfit or my appraisal of it as she steps closer to me. There’s maybe an inch between my chest and her double-D tits. They’re obviously fake, but beautiful. “I’m so sorry. We’re short-staffed tonight.”

Maybe it’s the Jack, but damn, this costume is sexy. So is her confidence. If I had her in the VIP area instead of Georgia, I’d be more eager. “It’s okay. We needed to stretch our legs.”

“What’s your name?” Her lips graze my earlobe.

“Ronan.”

“Hi, Ronan. So, is the brunette at your table your girlfriend?”

I grin. “Just for tonight.”

She grins back. “My name’s Becca.”

“Hey, Becca. Does that paint rub off on hands?” My gaze drops to her breasts, my palms itching to feel the weight of them.

“It will if your hands are wet. And my boss wouldn’t be too happy about handprints on my body this early in the night.”

“That’s too bad.”

Her lips part. “But how about later?”

I jump at the feel of a hand smoothing over my groin; I don’t have to look down to know it’s hers. I can’t get away, even if I want to. I’m surrounded by people in every direction, all of them clueless as the lioness server rubs my dick hard.

“I think you are incredibly sexy. Maybe you can give me your number and we can….”

From the corner of my eye, I notice Connor’s large frame about twenty feet away, standing too close and menacingly to some lanky guy for it to end well.

Shit. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta help my friend. Come by the table.” I skirt past her and push my way through, trying to will my erection down as I close the distance. I grab hold of Connor’s shoulders and squeeze. “Hey, what’s up, bro?”

“Look who I ran into!” Connor exclaims with mock cheeriness.

“I don’t know this guy.” He’s skinny and has a hipster vibe to him, his shoes brown and long and slightly wing-tipped, his pants tapered, his shirt fitted and untucked. He’s nervous, that much is obvious by the way he keeps glancing around him, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it off his face.

For Connor to lose his charming edge, he must be pissed. And Connor’s a big guy. This dude better be afraid.

“

is Ryan’s ex, David.”

.

“He works at Wolf, in accounting. And that girl over there works in reception.” He nods toward a pretty, tall blonde standing about five feet away, looking equally nervous.

.

“I was just telling David how sweet it is, the way he had his arm wrapped around her. You know, since he just broke up with my last night.”

Fuck. The dick isn’t just with another girl. He’s with a girl who works at Wolf.

Poor Ryan. She’s gonna hear about this by Monday morning. The fact that she has to work in the same office as her ex is bad enough. And now he’s dating someone else there. What is it with hotels and staffers banging each other like rabbits, thinking no one will find out about it? The Outdoor crew guys have a bad rep but some of these office people aren’t much better.

A quick glance around shows me that five different bouncers are watching us, ready to move in. I don’t want to get kicked out. Not before I see our server again. “Come on. You’ve gotta let Ryan deal with this in her own way. You’ll only make it worse. Let’s go.”

At first I don’t think he’s going to listen. But finally he moves away, carving a path straight to the bar.

“How the fuck does Poindexter land a chick like that? He’s got to be a hundred pounds soaking wet. Does he have a magical dick or something?”

“I don’t get it, either.”

“I mean, my sister and him were one thing but….”

“Your sister’s not exactly hard to look at.”

“You know what I mean. She’s all scholarly, doing her master’s and shit.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Connor eyes me. “Have you been checking out my sister?”

“No, man.” It’s an automatic response. A lie, but a necessary one. Sisters are off-limits.

“Good. Because I don’t think I’d be okay with that.”

I snort. “Dude, then why do you keep trying to push her on me?”

“Because I like to bug the shit out of her. But if I ever thought she’d actually bite, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll bite. My dick, off my body. No thanks. I like my dick whole and attached. But you know what?” I pat Connor’s back. “I’m glad to see you actually do know how to be a good brother, and give a damn about something besides getting laid.”

The bartender comes by to take our order. Connor orders and pays for the round, his gaze roving over the beautiful women around the bar. “Ah well. She’ll find someone new soon enough. And speaking of getting laid….” He grabs two of the drinks and begins carving a path through the crowd, back to our table.

It’s so dark in the VIP section that we have a hard time finding our corner, stumbling up a step or two to where Sherrie and Georgia are on their feet, grinding against each other to the heavy beat of the music.

“Damn.” Connor grins wide. “What do you think about swapping halfway through?”

“How about you take both and I’ll take our server.”

His brow arches knowingly. “The paint, right? You wanna leave fingerprints all over her.”

“Fucking right, I do.”

Sherrie waves her hand at the row of shot glasses on the table. “Look what our waitress brought over to apologize for taking so long!”

They’re all empty. I lift one to sniff it.

“Tequila!” They both shout, lifting their arms over their heads.

Connor and I share a look—one that says neither of us is getting laid tonight, unless it happens soon. These two just downed two shots apiece in a matter of five minutes, after plenty to drink already.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” He nods to my glass. “Drink up.”

Georgia’s hips sway as she rounds the table. Still dancing, she runs her hands from my stomach all the way to my chest, her fingertips curling around the collar of my shirt. “You guys took a long time.”

Not more than ten minutes, but in drunk girl time, I guess that’s forever. “You should have some water.”

“Hmm….” She’s so close, all I can smell is her lotus flower perfume and tequila. “I don’t want water. Do you know what I do want?”

“I think I can guess.”

She steps in close enough to grind against me. Her eyes light up with excitement. “It looks like someone’s excited to see me.”

Or just excited, thanks to Becca.

My hands are full of our drinks so I can’t do much when Georgia’s fingers, less expert but no less welcome, slide over the hard ridge in my pants, rubbing back and forth.

“You’re a big boy,” she purrs into my ear, and my dick jumps in response, like a lap dog excited by praise. With a giggle, she draws my zipper down and slips her hand inside to grip me, the warmth of her hand even through the cotton of my briefs bringing a soft groan to my lips. I glance over to see Sherrie push Connor back into the lounge chair and climb onto his lap, her short skirt riding up to show the black lace of her G-string. All around us, people are in their own little worlds, laughing, dancing, semicovertly sniffing lines of coke off side tables. I wonder if it’s this place or Miami in general, but no one seems to care who’s watching.

And, truthfully, I don’t care much either right now. I suck back half my drink, knowing I’m going to have to finish Georgia’s too. And then we’re gonna have to get out of here because I need those red lips around my cock.

She must be able to read my mind because I feel the sharp tug of my belt buckle being unfastened. Fuck… is she actually going to—

Cool fingers graze against my skin as she peels my briefs down and pulls my dick right out into the open.

Jesus. At least my back is to the place.

She seats herself on the chair in front of me, giving me a lascivious smile as she leans forward and runs her tongue along my full length.

I can’t help but glance over to see if Connor knows what’s going on. But he’s otherwise occupied, his hands gripping Sherrie’s ass tight as she straddles his lap, grinding against him so hard there’s no way he’s not going to come in his pants.

Just like there’s no way I’m going to stop Georgia now.

I chug the rest of my drink and gently toss the glass toward the couch. Bits of ice spill onto the smooth surface. It’s a bar—they must be used to spilled drinks around here. With my free hand, I weave my fingers through the back of Georgia’s hair as I guide myself into her warm mouth. She accepts me without hesitation and fully, until I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. My knees buckle slightly.

Sherrie wasn’t kidding—her friend loves to suck dick and she’s damn good at it, her deceptive doe eyes locked on mine as her head bobs up and down, her long fingernails digging into my hips painfully. She has literally no gag reflex.

I feel myself swelling and tightening. I just may actually blow my load in her mouth, right here in the back of this club. Something I can’t say I’ve done before. While Tasha was wild between the sheets, it was always behind the safety of a door, and with just the two of us.

A light hand settles on my shoulder. I turn to see Becca standing next to me. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that in here.”

“Why not? Because you want to be the one doing it?” I’m turning into an obnoxious ass, thanks to the Jack. But seriously, people are practically fucking on the dance floor, and I’ll be done in a few minutes.

“Because it’s considered public indecency. It’s frowned upon.” Something about the way she says that makes my dick swell more. A knowing look passes through her eyes as they drop from my face to where Georgia sucks. When her gaze lifts again, I see the heat in them. “You better finish up before the bouncers come.”

I smirk. “Define finish up?” Does she mean stop or….

She adjusts her grip on her empty drink tray, tucking it under her arm to block the view of passersby as she settles a hand over mine. She guides Georgia’s head, urging her on faster, deeper, her painted breast rubbing against my biceps. Even the pasty can’t hide her hardened nipples.

This lioness is something else.

Over her shoulder, I see that Sherrie has reversed on Connor’s lap and is grinding her ass into him now. Connor’s head has fallen back against the couch, his lips parted, a euphoric look on his face as he stares up at the ceiling.

I can’t believe this is happening. “Fuck me….” I’m in heaven.

“I was hoping to,” the waitress murmurs.

I chug Georgia’s drink and toss the glass aside, my gaze locked on the waitress’s stunning body. It’s probably wrong to be drooling over her while Georgia is blowing me, but I can’t help it, and neither Georgia nor Becca seem to mind.

“I really need to touch you.” I’m ready to explode.

A small smile curls Becca’s lips as she adjusts her stance, parting her legs a touch more. “Nowhere that I’m painted.”

That leaves me only one place.

I graze my finger along the front of her G-string, waiting for her to stop me.

She smiles.

Carefully, I slip my index finger down the front of her smooth mound and through her slick middle. She parts her legs even more, as if inviting me inside her.

I slide two fingers in.

It’s my undoing. My head falls back as all the muscles in my stomach, my groin, my legs constrict and my balls tighten. Pulling Georgia’s head tight against me, I thrust as I spill into her mouth.

Becca suddenly steps away from me, my fingers slipping out from her.

And I find myself flanked by two truck-sized bouncers.

~ ~ ~ ~

“It’s almost impossible to get kicked out of Sin. Well done, buddy.” Connor slaps my shoulder as we stumble through our front door and into the dark living room, Georgia and Sherrie following closely, giggling as they cling to each other’s arms.

Despite the abrupt end to things at Sin—my pants barely done up as I was escorted out— I would have been satisfied and called it a night. But Sherrie’s mouth found its way around my cock the second we climbed into the cab and now I need another release.

“I’m this way.” Connor leads Georgia toward his bedroom, giving me a thumbs-up. I’m not even sure when it was decided that we’d swap and who made that decision, but it seems everyone’s game.

“You’ve got paint on your shirt.” Sherrie’s hand slides over my sleeve where I’m covered in orange from Becca.

“Fuck. I hope that comes out.” It’s one of my favorite shirts.

“You should throw it into the wash right now.” She begins fumbling with the buttons, her lips moving for my mouth.

I step out of her reach. “Here, let me do that. My room’s down there, on the right. I’ll be there in a sec.”

She takes three staggering steps toward the hallway with a giggle, using the couch’s back to guide her.

I head for the closet off the main room that holds the washer and dryer. I peel my shirt off and chuck it in a laundry pod. It’s too dark and I’m too drunk to read all the controls, so I hope I’m doing this right.

“What the hell!” A female screams.

Shit.

I stumble down the hall, tripping over the heels, dress, and panties that are strewn along the floor, all the way to the end, to find Ryan’s door wide open and a completely naked Sherrie scampering out.

Granted, the condo is an odd design, with Ryan’s bedroom door at the end of the hall and mine kitty-corner to it. Still, it’s not hard to figure out. “Your right.”

Sherrie giggles as she darts across the hall and into my room. I dare hazard a glance into Ryan’s room to find the bedside lamp on and Ryan sitting upright in her bed, her scowl full of venom.

“Sorry about that.” I close the door and head into my room before I feel the sharp edge of her tongue.

“Who was that?” Sherrie’s lying on my bed, her legs spread wide, her fake, plump breasts sitting prettily, watching me strip off my pants. She’s got a nice body, as nice as Georgia’s, I’d guess. I doubt this will take long. And then what? How am I going to get rid of her? I don’t want to wake up next to this girl. Why did we bring them back here?

“Roommate.” I tear open the fresh box of condoms and fish one out, ripping the foil packaging with my teeth.

“I don’t think she liked me climbing into her bed, naked.”

“I can’t imagine why. Turn around.”

“Aren’t you going to get me off first?” Sherrie gives me an exaggerated pout and runs her fingers along her core as if to taunt me.

I seize her by the hips and flip her over. Pulling her up onto her knees, I climb onto the bed behind her. “Don’t worry. You’ll get off.” I made it a personal challenge, figuring out exactly how to get Tasha to orgasm every time. Sherrie can’t be that much different. Plus, I don’t stick my tongue between just anyone’s legs. Definitely not a woman whose friend just sucked my cock in a bar, and who I won’t be seeing after tonight.

With one hard thrust, I’m inside her.

She cries out.

“You good?”

“

good,” she moans, turning her face to the side. This angle—ass up—is one of my favorites. Though, asses in general are my favorite. “Are you good?”

I close my eyes and smile as I move my hips, pushing in and out of her with ease. I’ll admit, Tasha or not, this feels fucking good.

The headboard begins to bang against the wall. I’ll need to pull it out tomorrow so that doesn’t happen again. There’s not much I can do about the frame though, creaking noisily with each thrust.

Sherrie doesn’t seem to notice or care, her cries and moans coming more frequently and loudly each time I plunge into her. It took me a minute to find that spot deep inside her, but now that I have, I angle so I slam into it mercilessly.

“Oh my God! I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m….” Coherent words fail her and soon she’s crying out with her orgasm. The muscles in my stomach tighten with anticipation at my own release, which isn’t here yet thanks to all the booze.

An angry fist pounds against the wall on the other side, making me slow.

Ryan’s voice is muffled but loud enough to understand. “You are so full of shit! No one’s good!”

Sherrie giggles through her pants, her body limp. “I guess you haven’t fucked her yet, then. She wouldn’t be saying that otherwise.”

No, I haven’t. And I can’t see that changing. Her pussy probably has teeth.

Still, I can’t help but smile at what my dick registers as a challenge. Setting one foot on the floor, I hook my arms around Sherrie’s thighs and lift her slight body right off the mattress.

“Oh my God,” she pants. “You’re so deep.”

“You ready to prove my roommate wrong?”

~ ~ ~ ~

The clock shows twenty minutes have passed by the time I unload into my condom, my body coated in a sheen of sweat, my chest heaving, my muscles exhausted.

Sherrie came two more times and is now nothing more than a limp body before me. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk.” Her voice has turned raspy.

No sooner does the last squeak of the mattress sound than my door opens and Connor appears in his boxers.

“Come on, man….” I’m still inside her.

Connor doesn’t even pretend to apologize. “We’ve gotta get up in a few hours for work, remember?”

I frown. Tomorrow is Saturday. We don’t have to work.

He sets the clothes Sherrie scattered down the hall onto the dresser. “Your cab will be here in five minutes. You should get dressed. Georgia’s waiting for you.”

I struggle to hide my smile.

Perfectly planned. I think Connor may be my soul mate.

~ ~ ~ ~

“You’ll call us?” Both Sherrie and Georgia clumsily paw at my bare chest. They’re likely going to pass out before the cab actually makes it home. Hopefully they don’t puke.

“Sure.” I turn my head just as Sherrie leans in, and I end up with a sloppy kiss on my cheek. At least Georgia doesn’t bother.

“I’ll walk ’em down. Make sure they get in their car safely.” Connor trails them out in his boxers, throwing me a thumbs-up on his way past.

And I stagger back toward my bedroom, fully intending to do a face plant.

But Ryan is standing in her doorway, her arms folded over her chest, her hair a wild mess, and hate in her eyes. “You’re nothing like my brother, right?”

“Can we do this tomorrow, please?”

“Do what?”

“This thing where I accidently offend you and then you yell at me and storm off.”

“You call what happened tonight ‘accidental’?” Her hazel eyes flare. And here I thought she couldn’t look angrier. “Your climbed into my bed.

.”

“She got confused.” So confused that she swapped guys halfway through, I want to say, but I don’t.

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay!”

I hold my hands up in a sign of surrender. “You’re right, it’s not. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Until tomorrow night, with the next whore that can’t tell the different between right and left.”

“I’m not gonna be doing this every night.” I don’t think I can handle it. The familiar tingling of regret is settling in. I can’t help but feel as though I’ve cheated on Tasha, even though I know she’s with other guys.

“Bullshit.” She shakes her head. “I work all day and I have class four nights a week. Now I have a shit ton of school work to do this weekend. Some of us don’t get to spend our days drinking and partying. We have to use our brains.”

“I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to say? ”

“That you won’t bring home whores!”

“She wasn’t a whore.”

The look on Ryan’s face says she believes differently.

“I might need to get laid every once in a while. Don’t tell me Connor doesn’t bring home girls.”

“He’s at the opposite end of the condo. I have to share a wall with you!”

Fair enough. “I’ll be more quiet next time.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s 2:00 a.m. and I just had to listen to some drunk chick scream—practically in my ear—for the past half hour. Now I’m going to be exhausted. And don’t tell me this isn’t going to happen a lot. Neither of us are dumb enough to believe that.”

I sigh. This is exactly why I don’t want female roommates. “Look, I’ve barely looked at another girl since Tasha dumped me and I wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home tonight. It just… happened. I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum, but I won’t commit to living like a monk. Okay?”

I could be mistaken, but I think I see sympathy flash through Ryan’s eyes. She pauses for a long moment. “Maybe I could give you my schedule for when I’m extra busy and you can work around that.”

I burst out in laughter. Is she serious? “I’m not fucking on your schedule, Ryan.” My eyes drop to scan her bare legs. They’re short but they’re shapely beneath that oversized, unflattering T-shirt. “Not unless you’re the one in my bed.”

She snorts. “As if.” But her body betrays her, her gaze flickering downward over my chest, her lips parting with a sharp inhale. She gives her head a shake. “I’m not into your kind.”

“

kind?” I smirk.

She sets her jaw. “The kind with no ambition and very few standards.”

I don’t like her tone or her words. They’re laced with disdain, like she’s too good to be with me. I don’t bother bringing up the fact that I have a business degree. I’m guessing she’d somehow use it to prove her point, how a guy with a degree is doing manual labor at a hotel because he realized he’d rather use his hands than sit in an office. “That’s right. You like accountants. They’re all so honorable, right?”

Pain flashes in her eyes.

Bringing him up was a dick move. I open my mouth to apologize—

“You need a shower. You reek.” Her nostrils curl with disgust.

I can’t help myself. “That’s because I just finished fucking a woman into three orgasms.” I take a step closer to her. “Have you ever been fucked like that?” Is Ryan quiet or does she scream when she comes? She doesn’t take a step back, trying to stand her ground.

“Of course I have.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” I chuckle all the way to my bed.