Free Wasted Heart by Nicole Reed Page B

and I stumble after her. Letting her guide me to the back of the bar, she opens a door, pulling me into a small room with a mirror, sink, and toilet. Pushing me up against the wall, she tries to kiss me, which I don’t allow. I can’t be sure if I’m the only dick she’s sucked tonight. Hell no am I letting her touch my lips with that big fish mouth of hers.
    I turn my head, reaching up to grasp her hair and tugging her to her knees. She yanks my shirt up to kiss the top of my stomach while unzipping my jeans, pulling them down just enough to free me. My dick doesn’t have one goddamn problem that he might not be the first in her mouth. I harden to the point of pain, and the small kisses she places along the rigid line don’t do a damn thing to help.
    “Suck me off,” I command, still gripping her hair and guiding her head to do as I say.
    The feel of her overly wet mouth sucking me down and her tongue licking the underside plain out does it for me. I’m curious as to how fast she can get me off. I clocked one chick at two minutes before. This isn’t going to come close, but her experience is working for her, along with those tiny moans. She doesn’t slow down as she increases the grip of her mouth, suctioning like a leach on my dick. The sight of those tits bouncing up and down, along with the introduction of hand action on my balls, gets me closer.
    Every second of the tension today gathers in my abdomen, building higher and higher, until…
    “Fuck!” I moan seconds before shooting my cum directly in her mouth. We have a winner! This one is a swallower. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back, emptying myself. I feel the relief all the way to the balls of my feet, lifting myself on them. I stand still for minutes, feeling her lap up every single drop.
    Done with the skank, I pull back, stumbling over to the sink. I turn the warm water on and directly run my penis under it. I hear her clear her throat behind me as I pat dry with a paper towel, taking extra care in its sensitive situation. Glancing into the mirror, I see her licking her lips and smiling.
    “I’m a huge fan, Rhye,” she says, reaching into her pocket and evidently reapplying some type of lip gloss.
    I don’t feel the need to answer. This chick knows the score.
    “I’m here most nights if you need any more of that,” she comments before turning to walk out of the bathroom.
    I shake my head and pull my jeans up to close up shop. The chirping of my phone, letting me know I have a message, surprises me for a second. Pulling it out of my pocket, I realize I don’t know the number, but the message infuriates me.
    This is Josh…friendly reminder….You have thirty minutes before curfew. #Iwillreportyourass
    Fucker ends it with a hashtag?! I turn and kick the small aluminum trash can which crashes with a loud bang against the concrete wall. Storming out of the bathroom before someone comes to check on the noise, I hold my head down and look for the exit. This time, I can’t help but notice that the bar is filled to capacity with wall to wall people. When did that happen? I don’t look either way as I walk out, trying not to be noticed. Fortunately, I’m able to escape without any problems.
    The night air is crisp and clean as I stumble back to the apartment. My mind is not exactly free of my thoughts but not overrun by them either. The booze helps, but I can still feel everything on the edges, just waiting. I make it back to the apartment within five minutes, in plenty of time for fucking curfew. I stroll through the front door, noting Josh sitting on one of the barstools.
    “Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, clearly fishing.
    “Yes, Mother. I did,” I reply in my best Norman Bates imitation, not planning on stopping to chat.
    “Anything that’s going to show up on the drug test Friday?” he asks.
    I stop, pop my neck muscles, then turn to look at him. “Not unless you’ve got one that tests for Jack Daniels. Alcohol isn’t