Remember Ivy from End Game? Well, she's back with her own story. But don't worry if you haven't read End Game, this can be read as a standalone.
We follow Ivy as she returns to London having been offered a job at Risk, the Kink Club owned by Za...
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~ ~ Josh ~ ~
Just past seven-thirty I was up, showered and dressed. I'd woken up with a crazy amount of energy buzzing through my veins because I was still riding the high of what happened at the club with Ivy last night.
And yeah, maybe some of that high was because of what went down with Alex last night too.
Passing his bedroom, the door was open a crack and his bed made.
Up already? Interesting.
Hitting the stairs, jogging down, I paused when my foot hit the last stair drawing out a creak under my weight. Cranking my neck, the door to the sitting room was open and my eyes spread across the room... resting on the sofa. Gripping the bannister, warmth spread over my cheeks and my heart kicked up a beat.
A part of me had woken up this morning thinking I'd hallucinated that part of the night.
But a lineup of beer bottles told the story.
Now, the sensible thing to do would be to shove the memory out my head as it obviously sat in the crazy shit you do when pissed pile but a stupid grin crept up on me as rounded the staircase and pushed open the door fully to step inside.
Wow.
My nose scrunched as I stopped dead, punched by the stale smell.
Christ, it smelled like a brewery in here.
Walking over to the curtains, I dragged them back to let light in and dust motes soak the room. Popping open the window, I turned back around and made my way around the sofa. Shaking my head, I spotted a stain on the rug. Shit, that was gonna need a professional cleaner.
But I didn't mind clearing up after Alex today. Gathering up his empty bottles I tried not to think about what happened but just like someone knocking at a door I couldn't ignore it.
Was it crazy to pretend it never happened? or secretly hope it wasn't a one time thing?
"Duh, idiot." I puffed out. Of course it was fucking crazy because he was obviously too intoxicated to know what he was doing. It meant nothing. So the sane and logical thing here was to remind myself why I kept Alex in the friend zone in that part of my brain.
And definitely not think about his dick. Hard. Again. Ever.
Or his hand on mine and the way he handled my dick better than myself.
Oh, And his voice that tone he used... his command. Come, Josh.
... Fuck. My dick sat up, thickening in my sweats and without boxers there was no hiding it. It sure as hell remembered what it felt like to have his thick fingers wrapped around it.
And me begging him not to stop.
Grumbling. Yeah, great job about not thinking about it. But the floodgates were well and truly open. Shutting my eyes I sucked in some air as apparently I wasn't getting enough oxygen to my brain.
