Shattered and Shaken Read online

  “Dammit, Allie, I already told you no more,” he says sternly.

  Well, I've got news for him; what Allie wants, Allie gets. Turning to face him, my tongue licks from his clavicle up to his ear. I take his lobe between my teeth and give it a gentle tug. “Last one, promise,” I whisper, rubbing my palm along the length of his cock.

  I have the vagina. I overpower his decisions.

  “Okay, but just one more. I mean it. You can't get drunk, because if for some reason you happen to give us a chance, I want you at least semi-sober.” He walks past me to the bar, but I'm unable to follow him. My legs are stiff. He's teasing right? I mean, he's been extremely flirty lately, but he's never mentioned giving “us” a chance.

  Our relationship can’t be categorized; we aren’t necessarily friends, but we aren’t a couple either. We’re flirtatious people afraid of commitment; well, at least I am. Basically we’re friends with minimum benefits giving playful touches here, and a sexual comment there every so often. His touch brings my body to life. I remember when I first met him in chemistry class a little over three years ago. His hand brushed against mine as we reached for the same beaker; that slight graze made every hair on my body stand, and it sent chills down my spine. He still has that effect one me, but neither one of us will act on our emotions. Commitment scares the living shit outta me.

  Oh. Shit.... Is that a heart in my throat? There's throbbing in my neck, pounding in my ears, and all of a sudden, I can't breathe. I need air.

  I turn and make my way to the exit sign hoping to expand my lungs. “Um, where you goin?” Sophie asks from behind me.

  “Well, see, I um…I-I need air,” I pant, fanning my face and gasping for air.

  “Holy shit, you're pale.” She grabs my hand and drags me outside the bar. “Breathe, girl, damn. What happened?” she asks concerned.

  It takes me a few moments to gather my thoughts. “Too. Much. Too. Soon,” I reply between gasps. I hope she can't tell I'm lying. It's not too much too soon; it's me comparing every man on Earth to Wyatt. Fuck! I hate him. I can't give myself to a man I know would give me the moon if I asked for it, all because of an inconsiderate asshole who took what he wanted and then just disappeared. If we ever cross paths again, I swear I'll turn his balls into a permanent bow tie.

  “Hey Soph, Al, you okay?” Blake peeks from behind the steel door that leads back inside to Willie's.

  “Great,” I say, plastering a smile onto my face. Walking to him, I take him by the hand and pull him back inside the bar with me. We make our way back to the bar and I order my final ass kicker. After I finish the drink, I'm feeling pretty damn good, minus the fuzziness my brain's experiencing.

  I watch Blake take down what's left of his beer when Maroon Five's “Love Somebody” begins to play. Blake slams his long neck to the bar and gets off his stool. Grabbing my hand, he urges me off my stool. “Dance with me.”

  I take his hand and he leads us through the crowd into the middle of the dance floor. He spins me around so that my back's to his front, but he doesn't move his body. His stillness is my cue. I know what he's waiting for, so I give it to him. As the soft melody flows, I sway my hips from side to side against his erection, and he rests his hands on my hips. Bringing my right hand down to cover his, I bring my left hand up behind me to stroke his face. Blake sings the lyrics beside my ear, and I soak them in; they hit me hard.

  Every word within that song describes how I feel when I'm with Blake. I really want to love somebody. I want to love Blake, but I can't. If I fall for him and he crushes me like Wyatt did, I'll never recover. Hell, I haven't recovered from four years ago. As I bring my hand down from Blake's face, I snake my hips down his legs and back up again, feeling his erection against my back. Turning around, I wrap my arms around his neck and grind my lady bits deep into him.

  A deep moan rolls up from his throat. “Fuck, Allie, you're driving me insane,” he growls.

  I slide my hands up the back of his neck and tangle my fists into his hair. I bring my lips to the hollow of his neck to kiss and taste him. He bends down and grips under my thighs, lifting me up and urging my legs around his waist. “You can't keep doing this to me, babe. You're teasing me. I'll have to rest my balls on ice for a week to relieve their pain,” he expresses, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip.

  I know I should stop, but it feels so right being wrapped around him; his body warming mine. I can't stop. I won't. I tighten my hands in his hair and pull his mouth to mine, crashing our lips. My tongue invades his mouth, silencing him.

  He walks us across the dance floor and pushes my back against the wall. I loosen my legs from his waist and he sets me to the floor. He places one hand on either side of my head and pins me against the wall with his hips. He stands slightly bent with his forehead resting against mine, and he's biting his lip hard. Pushing him back slightly, I reach in front of me and stroke his hardness. Blake throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. His nostrils flare as he inhales and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard several times.

  “Stop...Allie, stop.” He reaches down and removes my hand from him. I'm embarrassed.

  “I'm sorry, Blake, I thought you-”

  He places his finger over my mouth. “Shhh, don't, Al. I know what you're thinking, and I definitely want you. Hell, it's taking everything within me not to bend your pretty little ass over that bar and have my way with you - audience or not.” He brings his hand to cup my face. “But I can't,” he breathes. His thumb's trace my lips. “I need you to be mine, only mine.” He's staring deep into my eyes. “I don't want part of you, Al. I want all of you. Can you give yourself to me?”

  I want to answer him. I try hard to give him an explanation, but all I'm able to do is stand against the cold wood paneled wall, silent.

  “That's what I thought.” He punches the wall beside me, causing me to flinch. I grab his arm as he turns to leave, but he pulls away.

  He's leaving.

  I have to say something, anything to explain to him why I'm no good for him. "Blake," I call. He turns around, his eyes clashing to mine. "You don't want me. I'm no good for you; I'm damaged goods," I assure him.

  He walks toward me until we're face to face. "Yeah, babe, but you're beautifully damaged; perfectly broken. Just give me the chance to repair you," he requests.

  He doesn't know what he's asking for. "I can't, not now."

  He turns his back on me, leaving me in a beautifully broken mess. I stand here for a moment trying to catch my breath and debating if I should run after him or not. I decide to leave him alone. He needs time to calm down.

  Pushing myself away from the wall, I search for Sophie. I spot her in a corner booth tongue wrestling with some random guy from the bar. “We're ready. Please unleash that beast and let’s go,” I urge, pulling her off his lap.

  She reaches back and slaps me off. Bitch. I don't have time for her bullshit, so I leave her be and head outside to her car. As I make my way across the parking lot, I see Blake leaning up against his truck chattin' it up with some blonde. She's giggling, rubbing her hands up and down his chest as she speaks to him in a toddler-like voice.

  Her voice makes me cringe; it's like nails gliding down a blackboard. She's more his type; long legs, silicone breasts, fake-n-bake skin, looking like she's stepped out of a Victoria Secret catalogue. Now, I'm not one of those girls that have low self-esteem and needs a man to make her feel pretty; fuck that shit - I'm HOT. I'm five foot five, have full perky breasts, an hourglass figure, and thick thighs that accommodate my ass nicely. I've got long dark hair that flows down the middle of my back, naturally tan skin, and honey eyes - not an ounce of low self-esteem. However, I have to admit that I'm extremely jealous watching her Barbie-like hands caress his chest. I want to karate chop this bitch in the throat right about now; however, ladies like me don't do well in jail so I'll refrain from doing so.

  Forcing my eyes away from Blake and the blonde, I make my way to Sophie's car. Thank God, the doors are
unlocked. Opening the door, I take my place in the passenger’s seat, but as I reach out to shut the door, a hand grabs it, preventing me from closing it. My stomach plummets to the ground before I have time to look up and realize its Blake. “Oh, thank God! You scared the shit out of me,” I breathe, clutching my stomach.

  “Sorry, beautiful, but I can't let you leave without a proper goodbye.” He squats down beside me so that we're eye level. “Allie, I hope you understand why I stopped you earlier?”

  I try not to look at him, but his eyes capture mine. “I get it, Blake. I'm sorry.”

  “No. Hell no. Don't apologize, Al. I want you, but as I've told you many times before, I want all of you, not part of you.” He pulls me to him by the back of my head and places a kiss onto my forehead. “I'll see you at Soph's. And you'll need to drive. Slutty Sophie's a little slurry.” He tosses me the keys and heads back to his truck. Okay, so I’m totally against driving under the influence, but between the erratic breathing, rapid heart rate, and perfused sweating, my head is no longer fuzzy; I believe I can manage the drive.

  Patiently, I sit in the car waiting on Soph to come out, but she doesn't. Now, I've got to go in there and hog tie her ass to get her out. I take a deep breath in to prepare myself for the rumble I'm about to experience. I pull open the door to Willie's, and to my surprise, I collide with a woman stripping from her clothes, piece by piece.

  “Let's go, girl. Shit, it's hot! Are you hot?” She's stumbling and throwing her clothes to the ground.

  “Whoa, woman! Put that back on,” I encourage, pulling her shirt back down. “Get in the car.” I open the door and shove her into the seat

  “Hey! Easy!” I cut her off by shutting the door in her face - never fails. She gets shit-faced every time we go out. She doesn't tolerate alcohol very well. Tequila and Soph have a love-hate relationship. You know the song “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols? Well, that's exactly what liquor does to her.

  Making my way around her candy-apple red convertible Mustang, I hop into the driver’s seat and crank the engine. Before backing out, I take a look at Sophie; her cheek’s smashed up against the door with her hair hanging out the window.

  “Al, if you don't turn on the AC, I'm going to reach over and give you the nipple twister of your life. I'm scorching over here!”

  I do as she commands, because we all know how badly nipple twisters hurt. I let the top to her convertible down, and as the air and wind hits her face, she passes out. As I drive, I glance at Sophie and see her mouth hanging wide open. I'm pretty sure she's catching bugs. Gross I know, but I ain't waking her up.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at her apartment. I park the car and put the top up before shutting off the engine. I reach over to shake Sophie but she's out cold. I give her a slight slap across the cheek, but she doesn't flinch. I'm debating on leaving her in the car when Blake pulls up beside us.

  “Need some help?” he asks, stepping down from his truck.

  “Seems that way. I sure as hell ain't carrying her.”

  Bending down, he lifts Sophie from the car and into his arms effortlessly. He carries her up the two flights of stairs that lead to her apartment without getting winded, and no sign of breaking a sweat. Damn, gotta love a man that's fit. When we enter her place, he takes her to bed and lays her down.

  “Can you get me some covers for the couch?” he asks sweetly.

  Rummaging through her closet, I grab him a cover and two pillows. “Here, it's all she has.” I gently shove the bedding into his arms. “Need help getting situated?”

  “Naw, I think I can manage,” he replies sleepy. He bends down and points to his cheek indicating he wants a kiss.

  “Night.” I place a kiss upon his stubble.

  “Night, gorgeous, sweet dreams.”

  He exits the room, leaving me alone, heart racing, panties melted, and no clean clothes. Looks like I'm going commando. Hopefully, Sophie will refrain from old habits, and I won't wake up to her groping me in the morning; that's one way my bat ain't swingin'.

  Lying in bed, I toss and turn for what seems like hours. As I turn over, I see that the clock reads three in the morning. I've punched and fluffed my pillow, changed positions, slapped the covers, and even kicked Soph a few times - nothing's helped. I can't get Blake out of my mind. What happened between us keeps playing in my head. The way his hands felt as they grinded against me, the way his lips sent heat through my body, the way my sex throbbed for him as I felt his hardness against me. Shit. I may or may not be soaking Soph's sheets right at this very moment. Oh well.

  Sitting up, I exit the bed and go through her dresser in search for something to wear. Throwing on a tank top and thong - still with tags - I head for the kitchen to find something to quench my thirst. As I tiptoe down the hall, I come to a halt as my eyes settle on Blake's bare chest and his leg hanging out from the cover; it's not either one of the legs he uses to ambulate - if you know what I'm sayin'....

  Oh, sweet, sweet, sweet, baby Jesus - it's glorious. My brain's chanting “close your eyes, Allie, just close your eyes,” but my eyelids disobey me; they seem to have a brain of their own. It takes all of my strength, but I tear my eyes away from him and all of his glory. Quietly, I make my way into the kitchen and raid the fridge for a bottle of water. I scan each level, but there isn't a damn thing to drink. As I bend down to check the bend at the bottom of the fridge, a hardness presses against my ass, and two large hands rest upon my hips.

  “Thirsty?” he asks, his voice raspy.

  Why I'm still bent over looking for something I already know isn't there is beyond me. Who am I kidding? We all know why I haven't moved; I mean, would you? “Actually, yes. What the hell does she drink besides vodka?” I ask, rummaging through the fridge for a third time.

  He reaches an arm around my waist and pulls me back. “I took the last bottle of water she had.” He closes the refrigerator door.

  “Oh yeah? What's a gal gotta do to get a sip of that purified, crisp, ice cold water, huh?” Taking my hands, I slide them up his chest and rest them on his broad shoulders.

  “Depends on how much water this so-called gal is trying to take,” he shrugs.

  My mouth is so dry that if a droplet of water hit my tongue, it would sizzle like an egg hitting a heated frying pan. “You name it, you got it, big boy.” I tickle my fingers down his chest and tuck my fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

  “See, that little move right there just earned you ONE gulp.” Taking my hands, he leads me to the water; just like a camel. I follow him to the couch and take a seat. He hands me the water and I chug it all, sucking it until the plastic bottle scrunches.

  He's sitting beside me with his hands clasped behind his head and his feet resting on the table in front of us. “Damn, babe, you weren't kiddin'. I said one gulp, not one bottle.” He tries to look serious but fails as a smile slowly creeps across his face.

  “Sorry.”

  He reaches over and grabs me by the chin, turning my face to his, lifting it so he can stare into my eyes, “For what?” His brows furrow and I lift the empty bottle to give him a silent, but obvious answer. Shaking his head, he grabs the remote and flips on the television. I prop my feet up on the table beside his and snuggle into his side, resting my head on his chest; listening to the rhythm of his heart as my head rises and falls to the pattern of his breathing. It doesn't take long for my eyelids to become heavy and for me to fall fast asleep in his arms.

  Chapter Three

  THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up to something that feels like wood sticking into my back; holy shit, it is wood - morning wood. Unraveling myself from his hands, I attempt to stand without waking him. I'm successful. Lifting my head, I see a little Italian lady standing directly in front of me with arms crossed over her chest, nodding, biting her lip, and squinting her eyes at me - I'm not gonna live this down. She gestures one of her hands toward a sleeping Blake.

  “Explain,” she commands.

  “Expl
ain what?” I recoil from her glare.

  “Um, the fact that I wake up to the two of you tangled on my couch, with Blake pretty much naked. You two better not have christened my couch, sista; I'll take you down." Walking towards me, she begins to lift her arms, and I flinch preparing myself for a slap to the face; however, I don't receive one. Instead, she wraps her arms around me, and hugs me tightly, “I knew you would give into him and all his sexiness. It's about damn time,” she exclaims.

  “I didn't fall into anyone. The only reason I'm in here is because your ass claimed the entire bed, just how a sumo wrestler claims his ring; bumping into me and shit.” I go into the kitchen in search for a coffee pot and I'll be damned - she doesn't have one. Who in the hell doesn't have a coffee pot? If you don't have a coffee pot, I highly recommend you seek psychiatric treatment, because being coffee-less is insane!

  “Soph, please, please tell me, you have a coffee pot somewhere...please,” I beg.

  “Umm, negative. That shit's nasty, and if you keep drinking it, your taste buds are going to rot,” she expresses, looking disgusted. She walks past me to open her cabinet and pulls out a glass bottle filled with clear liquid.

  “Please tell me you're looking for a coffee pot, and not about to down that shit.” I have to swallow back bile that's made its way into my throat. I look at the clock on her stove and it's eight in the morning, way too early for alcohol.

  Unscrewing the top she takes a swig. “Well, I have a hangover, and the cure for a hangover is to continue drinking...I think.”

  “You need help,” I toss over my shoulder as I make my way into her room.

  I go through her closet and find some faded-denim shorts and a green cami to wear. I grab some towels and head to the bathroom to shower. After I finish freshening up, I put my belongings into a bag and make my way to the living room. Blake is awake.

  “Mornin', babe.” He pats the cushion beside him.