Chapter 27: Chapter Twenty-Seven - Who Does He Think He Is?

Everly

I am having a pleasant conversation with a random guy at the bar. I came over ten minutes ago for drinks, but I got distracted by the handsome stranger. He is being sweet. He probably isn’t and is trying to get some, but I am enjoying chatting with him. We may be flirting a little too. I see Orson approach out of the corner of my eye. He is probably wondering where the drinks are. He appears at my side and moves to stand between me and the guy. I should probably have asked his name.

“It is time for you to find someone else to flirt with. She isn’t going home with you,” he snarls.

“Orson, what do you think you are doing? Go away.”

He ignores me and keeps his attention focused on the guy.

“Who are you?”

I can hear the confusion in the voice. He has no idea what is going on.

“It isn’t important, but it is time for you to leave her alone now.”

I jump to my feet and stand beside them. “Orson, this has nothing to do with you. Go to hell and rejoin your friends. What I am doing is none of your business.”

The stranger jumps to his feet. “I don’t know who he is, but I am not looking for trouble or drama. I will leave the two of you to work out whatever this is.” He points between us, shaking his head and walks away.

My anger boils over, and I focus my attention on Orson, glaring at him. “You had no damn right to do that! If I planned on going home with him, that was none of your business. I am sure he would give me exactly what I needed since you are not manly enough to do so. Stay out of my way, Orson.” I warn and barge by him.

I have more than enough of his crap for one night. He had his chance. He blew it. I understand why he did it. He was getting me back from earlier. I return to the table.

“Thanks, guys, for tonight. I had fun. I am sure I will see you around.”

“You are leaving?” Christian asks.

“Yes. I have had enough of Orson for one night.”

The tone in my voice is full of irritation. I say goodbye and head for the door. I don’t reach it before I am grabbed from behind. I know who it is without having to look.

“Orson, let me go,” I warn, trying to escape his hold.

It doesn’t work. He brings me around and pulls me to his chest. “Not manly enough? You are joking, right? I proved how manly I was when we had our night together. And don’t put all this on me! You rejected me first earlier, and now what? Because you are horny, you expect me to drop everything and give you what you want?”

His words come through his heavy breaths. I laugh loudly at his choice of words.

“Oh, don’t try taking the high ground with me, Orson. You want me. You want to fuck me. The only reason you rejected me was because your ego needed it, not because it is what you wanted to do.” I snap, prodding at his chest.

“I will take you back to the house right now and show you how much of a man I can be. I will fuck you until you are screaming my name and your body becomes too weak to function.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Should I be doing this? No! Do I care, no? I have done it once before; a second time won’t make a difference. It isn’t like it is bad sex. It is incredible sex. Like he mentioned earlier, I can hate him and want to have sex with him at the same time. Could I sleep with him when I was completely sober? Probably not, but he is something to play with when I am drunk and horny. I won’t feel bad for it. He uses women all the time. I can use him when I please.

“Nothing, let’s go.”

“You aren’t going to say goodbye to your friends?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. They will understand.”

He pulls away, grabs my hand and leads me out to hail a cab. I didn’t think he would take a cab. I am surprised he didn’t call someone to come pick him up in a fancy town car. We get one quickly, and he rushes me into it. Someone is in a hurry. He climbs in after me, telling the driver his address, or should I say our address for the time being?

The second we are on the way, Orson turns to me, and a sexy smile plays on his lips.

I raise my brow at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

Orson rests one hand on my thigh, rubbing it, and he rests his lips at my ear. “I can’t wait to strip you naked and get another taste of your sweet pussy. I have been craving it since our night together in New York,” he rasps, his hand roaming further up my leg with every word.

I bite my lip to stop from moaning. The driver doesn’t need to know what is going on in his backseat.

Orson’s hand slips under my dress, his fingers lacing through the material of my panties. “I can feel the heat from your pussy already.” He growls, biting down on my neck.

I gasp, opening my legs further. He is right. I am wet and warm. He traces his lips along my neck as he dips his hand inside my panties, brushing his fingers over my throbbing clit. I close my eyes and shudder under his touch. He draws his hand out after a moment, and I huff at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous. We will continue soon.” He chuckles.

I rub my hand over his crotch, and a groan rumbles in his throat.

“I look forward to it.”

Why does sex have to feel so good with someone I don’t like? I have better sex with him than I had with any of my exes that I did like or even loved. Hormones and desires are funny, unexplainable things.