This Isn't You, Baby(65)

By: K Webster

She sticks her tongue out at him, but I can see happiness glittering in her green orbs. The fucker is finally paying her some attention. But by the time she returns with another round of drinks, Oscar is frowning as he texts. He doesn’t even utter a thank you when she hands him his drink.

Her sad gaze finds mine and my heart aches for her. “Come here.”

She sets the drinks down and sits down beside me. I can tell she’s seconds away from crying. The liquor is depressing her and it’s making a quick job of it.

“What’s wrong?” She and I both know what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” she says in a wobbly voice.

Her tears begin to fall, thanks to the alcohol, and I hug her to me.

“Shh,” I murmur, stroking the side of her arm. “Don’t cry.”

I’m attempting to comfort her when a glass slams against the coffee table, startling us.

“What the fuck did I miss?!” Oscar bellows as he rises to his feet.

“Maybe pay some attention and you’d know,” I growl out.

Without warning, she’s physically pulled from my hug by Oscar. His scowl is murderous when it meets mine as if I were the one who made her cry. Then, he drags her squirmy ass into her bedroom. The door slams shut, and I’m left wondering what the hell just happened.

God, I wish he’d just fucking wake up.

My thoughts drift to Brie. Sexy, stunning Brie. Such a sad girl with a brilliant smile. I’d do anything to see her smile right now. To have her in my arms. Jesus Christ, I miss her.

Simply thinking of her has my dick aroused and eager to come. The last time I came—not by my own hand—was at the hotel before Brie walked out on me. And before that was when I’d taken her virginity. I close my eyes to remember how perfect that night had been. How beautiful and ethereal she’d been under the moonlight. The way her body squeezed my dick so hard, I thought I’d pass out from pleasure.

She moans and—

I pop my eyes open with realization that it’s Vee’s moans I’m hearing. Good for her. She finally got him to fuck her, it would seem. As proud as I am for her, I’m still hard as hell and have Brie on my mind. Shamelessly, I unfasten my shorts and pull my proud cock from my boxers. With my eyes closed, I let Brie take center stage in my fantasy while Vee’s moans in the background give it the realistic edge my normal whack off sessions don’t have. I fist my length with a death grip and run my thumb over the topside of my shaft. When it slides over the tip, I hiss out. My dick jolts in my hand.

“Brie,” I murmur, my voice but a whisper.

Her brown eyes—eyes I miss seeing in the flesh—are focused on me as I stroke myself. I can almost imagine it’s her. Her mouth. Her lips. Her wet tongue. All tasting me and bringing me closer to climax. With every thrust into my fist, I get closer to blowing my wad down her imaginary throat.

“Fuck,” I hiss out as my balls draw up in pleasure.

Heat spurts up the front of my shirt as my release escapes me. My mind lingers on Brie and I drag out the fantasy as long as possible. When I’ve finished and tucked my cock back into my pants, I open my eyes and acknowledge that I’ll never have her again.

That one day soon I’m going to have to move the fuck on.

Easier said than done.

I rip my soiled shirt from me and toss it away. The moans from the other room have stopped. It almost sounds like she’s crying again. If I didn’t think I’d get my ass kicked, I would go in there and check on her. Oscar shouts something muffled. It has me rising to my feet in alarm. But then she’s back to moaning. With a huff of frustration, I plop back on the sofa and start to pass out.

Where do I even go from here?

Rolling to my side, I push thoughts of my bleak future away and gladly welcome ones of when Brie was beneath me in the sand. She’ll always be nothing but a memory to me. For at least one night under the stars and another against the hotel door, she was mine. It may have been fleeting but they were our moments.

I may not ever have her again.

But that memory I’ll hold on to until the day I die.



“Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” I question as I pour syrup all over my pancakes.

Vee winces, as if my words physically pain her, and stabs at her eggs. “Which part?”

“You and Oscar. Did he finally wake the hell up?”

She chews on her eggs and regards me with sad eyes. “Yeah.”

I lift an eyebrow at her. Even though she got what she wanted, she seems unhappy. “Why were you crying last night? I thought you got laid. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Her nose turns pink and her bottom lip wobbles. “We didn’t have sex. Oscar was jealous and he finger fucked me into several orgasms. And just when I thought we were going to finally do it…”