Shattered and Shaken (3 page)

I can't help but laugh out loud at the irony; ass kickers, kicking my ass. Who would've ever thought that they would live up to their name? “Well, if I get sick, you're taking care of me. I'm goin' home with you; keep that in mind, hot stuff.”

He reaches over and swipes the curls away from my shoulder. His fingertips graze my skin; his touch causes every hair on my neck to rise. “Wouldn't have it any other way, babe,” he whispers into my ear.

Ohmygod! The heat from his breath sends chills down my spine, and a delicious warmth pools inside of my sex. “This is the last one, and I mean it, dammit! What am I going to do with you?” he asks.

Oh, believe me Blake, I've got plenty of ideas of things you can do to me, with me.

My fifth drink is set before me and I take it down like the others, slamming the glass to the table as my head begins to throb. “Shit!” I place my hands on my forehead trying to stop the pain.

“Brain freeze?” Blake laughs. Oh, he thinks this shit is funny? Maybe I should punch him in the throat, would I be funny then?

“Not funny,” I say, shoving his chest. As I sit here and wait for the brain-throbbing misery to subside, Bruno Mars' “Treasure” begins to play in the background, and before I know it, Blake picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. “Hey! Put me down!”

He gives me a slap to the ass and continues toward the dance floor. “This is my shit, Allie Grace! I will not put you down. We're
dancin', babe.” When we make it to the dance floor, he slides the front of my body down his, causing my legs to feel weak.

Blake takes my hand and pulls me to him, swaying us side to side. He spins me out and back into him again. His mom's a dance instructor, and she's taught the boy well. He brings my arms up around his neck, and then his hands grind their way up and down the sides of my body. He begins to sing the lyrics, “Treasure, that is what you are, girl you're my golden star”. His eyes devour me; it sends sparks throughout my body.

Wow, just wow!

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him -
holyfrigginbatmanbustinballs -I feel his hardness, somebody help me! I'm losing control. He grabs my hand and starts to repeat more lyrics. “You are my treasure, you are my treasure.” He's looking at me like a leprechaun who's just discovered its missing pot of gold.

Bruno's voice begins to fade. I bring my arms around Blake's waist pulling him back towards the bar. “I want another drink,” I say.

“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.