Total pages in book: 181
Estimated words: 177690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 888(@200wpm)___ 711(@250wpm)___ 592(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 888(@200wpm)___ 711(@250wpm)___ 592(@300wpm)
Would it be so bad to take a quick break?
I can nap and be gone before Aden gets back…
eight
aden
It’s been years since I’ve been drunk. Fucking years. I’d never admit it to others, but I’m too much of a control freak to enjoy getting drunk these days. I like being alert and clear headed when I face the shit life throws my way. Tonight after hanging up the phone with Casey, I needed a break. I drove around the small town of Clancy and found the one thing they have that I had been missing. A bar. A bottle of Jack later and here I am, crawling out of a damn Uber cab and dragging my ass into the motel. My head is swimming and my vision blurred. I should have quit drinking long before the bottle was drained. I’m lucky I can still stand. Drinking, barely eating today and years without drinking much alcohol at all—have all combined to knock me on my ass.
I stumble into the bathroom, not bothering to turn a light on. There’s a little light from the outside streetlight shining in and I let that guide me. I start pulling my clothes off, frowning because for some reason the room smells like…vanilla. I hadn’t noticed that smell before, maybe the owner used an air freshener or something when she cleaned. I like it. It kind of makes me hungry. I’ll have to tell her to keep using it… not that she listens to much I ask for.
Once I’m naked, I splash water on my face. It does very little to help clear my head, but I’m finding I don’t care. I’m relaxed and feeling warm and for the first time in months and months I’m not worrying about contracts, lawyers or Gloria’s antics. It’s rather freeing. I lean against the wall, letting it hold me up. My hand moves to my cock. It’s semi-hard maybe because I’m relaxed for the first time in forever, or maybe it’s just been a fucking long time since I’ve grabbed a piece of ass. Whatever the reason, whiskey dick is not the problem. I stroke him, squeezing tightly, eyes closing as I let myself feel the heat invading my body. What I wouldn’t give for a hot, slick pussy to plunge inside of, squeezing my cock…
That’s when I hear it.
At first I think I’m imagining it—part of the fantasy playing in my head. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to let the moment go. I don’t know whose face I expected to flash in my memory. Gloria maybe. I may hate her, but she was a decent fuck and the latest one I’ve had. Strangely, it’s not her face that comes to mind. For just a split second it’s the hotel girl…Hope. I’m so surprised my hand stops mid stroke.
Then I hear it again and realize it’s not my imagination or a fantasy. It’s a woman’s moan. My gaze cuts in the direction of the bed. The room slightly spins around me because I move my head so quickly. I see movement on the sheet. I walk slowly towards the bed, my steps staggered. I realize I’ve probably passed out. It’s a fucking fantasy, but I can’t find it in me to care. I haven’t had a woman in a year. It’s been almost that long since I’ve even indulged with my own hand. Even if it’s a dream, it’s a damn good one.
Shock spreads through me when I make it to the bed and see the hotel clerk…no… Hope. If I’m going to fantasize about her, she deserves her real name—at least until I wake up.
Then I can go back to calling her a bitch.
I frown when I see she’s in some fuzzy pajama pants with fruit all over them. Obviously the whiskey has rattled my damned brains. You would think she’d be naked or at least in silk lingerie in my head. Maybe it’s because I’ve not seen her body before. I shrug off the minor concern. I barely realize I’m still stroking my cock.
Hope moans again and rolls from her side to her back. Her breasts sway under the thin white tank that she’s wearing and I can see the imprint of hardened nipples through it. I’ve been a bitch to her, but she really is beautiful—or hell, maybe my mind has softened her features and made her more appealing. She’s got soft caramel colored hair that falls just past her shoulders. It’s currently lying against the white sheet of the bed. One lone strand has fallen against her face, caressing her cheek. Her eyes are closed and I try to will them open so I can see the color. They don’t so much as flutter. You would think I could at least control my own fantasy. It angers me that I can’t. I’m sure this is somehow Hope’s fault.