WICKED GAMES | COMPLETE

THIRTY SIX

Miles

The music boomed in the air, thundering in his ribcage. Miles had feared the worst when Carly texted him to meet her that night, but she had dragged him into a club.

He never liked the scene – it wasn't his type of music – but at least it was crowded.

And now he didn't know whether to be thankful or fearful.

Two shots and a Flaming Lamborghini later, Carly was gyrating against him on the floor, the strobe lights accentuating her curvaceous figure. She wore a black lace top and skin-tight ripped jeans.

Miles glanced down, unsure where to look, and caught the faint hint of her dark nipples pushing through her near-transparent clothes.

She shouted something at him, but he couldn't hear a word over the roaring bass.

She turned around, her ass rubbing against his groin. Miles tried to shift away, but the crowd was packed like sardines and it served only to push his crotch back into her.

Slowly, he felt himself start to harden.

Fuck, he thought, his head swimming with alcohol and confusion. He knew who he was up against. This was Carly, the bitch who had blackmailed him and threatened to end his career. Carly, with her high-pitched whine and cunning wiles.

Carly, with her fucking round ass and bouncing tits.

They were now bouncing against him.

Shit. His boner was now fully erect, straining painfully inside his denim.

It had been so long since he felt any pleasure. All those nights refusing release because of work – his sexual frustration had climbed to an unbearable peak.

He placed his hands on her hips, unsure if he was trying to push her away or towards him.

As if to resolve his dilemma, she grabbed his hands and planted them firmly on her breasts. He felt her massive mounds jiggle under his palms.

Fuck. He was in trouble.

She began to grind against his flesh, as if she knew that she had given him an uncontrollable hard-on.

Suddenly, a body collapsed to his right. Miles jumped back and the music stopped.

A woman laid crumpled in a pool of vomit, her friends shouting over her and trying to haul her up.

Taking the opening, Miles slipped out of the club, thankful to be alive.

╳◯

He felt the soothing caress of water and soap cascade over his body, washing off the grime and dirt of that club.

He vowed never to go partying again. He could take beer and whisky, but flaming shots? Blinding lights? Satan's round ass? A man could lose his sanity in a place like that.

He thought back to Carly and her body. The way she moved against him in a seductive dance of death. If he hadn't gotten out when he did, he might have breached the point of no return.

He would have started squeezing those fucking tits, pinching those nipples, feeling her crack slide down his length...

Miles started pumping his cock furiously, the soap lathering him like a wet mouth. He imagined forcing her down to her knees, whipping out his cock and shoving it through her lips. He would thrust so fucking deep it hit her throat and she would gag, tightening harder around his head and urging him to come.

He'd pull her hair back and Andie would gaze up at him with lust-filled eyes –

Andie. He groaned, feeling the white stream shoot forth. He imagined it trickling down her lips, her peppered neck, her perfect breasts, as she smiled and licked teasingly at his head.

He opened his eyes only to see the liquids curling around the drain, seeping and disappearing into the dark.

God. I miss her so fucking much.