The girls know this is our go-to place for drinks. We can drink ourselves stupid here, and it’s not that far from home. The owner puts up with a fair bit of shit from us boys, and we rarely get kicked out. Apart from the lure of alcohol, this bar is my go-to place for pussy. It’s a tapped resource that never dries up. If I don’t wanna go home alone, I don’t. Simple. Tonight, I’m taking a honey home with me, and I’m gonna drive her into next week.

The pretty brunette on the left winks at me, and then flicks her long hair over her shoulder as she crosses her slim, jean-clad legs. Just like that, I’m in. I know that look in her eye all too well. She’s hungry for cock.

I don’t know whether I’ve had the pleasure of her pussy before. I jut my chin towards her and then motion my hand towards the bar. She presses her lips together, says something quietly to her friends, and then stands and slowly stalks in my direction, swaying her slim hips as she walks like a catwalk model in those tall fuck-me heels. Easy prey.

Bartender Jack places two beers on the bar and I pay him.

“You need to make like a tree, Jones,” I say, handing him another beer.

“Huh? A tree?”

“You need to leave.”

He turns and his eyes widen as he watches the beauty approach. Boy, am I gonna have fun with this one. She has legs that go for miles and a spectacular rack.

“Gotcha,” he says, and takes a walk towards the end of the bar where Billy Boy is chatting with Brett. “Don’t forget to wrap it, bro.”

“Always.” I’d rather not have my cock fall off thanks to a raging STD.

When she stands toe-to-toe with me, I slip my arm around the girl’s slim waist and pull her to the space at the bar where a vacancy has now appeared thanks to Jones’s prompt exit.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” I ask her, rubbing my calloused thumb across the small strip of exposed flesh on her lower back just above the waistband of her jeans. She shudders and a soft moan whispers from her cherry red lips. That shade will look magic at the base of my cock.

“Jacinta,” she says, mischief in her tone. She’s said one word to me, and I like her already. I hope to Christ she’s not a big talker. Not that it matters, I guess, because she’ll be too busy with my cock in her mouth anyway.

“You like tequila, Jacinta?”

“Uh-huh,” she says with a slow nod, and a bat of her long lashes.

I turn side on and press my semi-hard cock against her hip. She takes in a sharp breath, drawing my eyes to the swell of her tits as they rise and fall.

“Then you’re gonna fuckin’ love how I do tequila.”

I slap my palm twice on the timber top of the bar. “Tequila with lemon and salt, my friend,” I shout out to Jack and hold up two fingers. With a deep chuckle and a shake of his head, he throws a black cloth over his shoulder and grabs two shot glasses. He sets about placing a small bowl of lemon wedges and a salt shaker beside them.

“What’s your name?” she asks playfully, turning her body to face me as the tequila is poured.

“You know it’s Rocco,” I say cockily. She may not know my name, but I reckon given her female company this evening, she does.

Jacinta smiles, and then tugs at her lower lip with her perfectly white teeth. She leans in and puts her mouth to my ear, her breath warming me. She smells sweet as fucking pie, too.

“I wanna see what you can do with that stud, Rocco,” she says, her voice sexy and sweet.

Well isn’t she in for a treat. I’m the pussy-eating grand master. I grunt with satisfaction, and then grip her hip and twist her frame to face the liquid gold in the glasses in front of us.

“All in good time, babe. Tequila comes first, then you come second.”

CHAPTER NINE

SOPHIE

After a hell of a night shift, I finally get home. I step into the bath, pull the plastic curtain across and indulge in a long shower. I’m grateful that Rocco isn’t home and that I can use every last drop of hot water without him pounding the door down.

I rinse out my delicates and hang them gently on the rail and around the edge of the bath. They should be dry by morning.

When I get out of the shower, I scan the room for a towel. Motherfucker. My shit-for-brains flatmate obviously helped himself to my towel this morning. I creep into the hallway, careful with my wet feet on the slippery floor. The jangle of keys in the front door lock has me bolting towards my room.

Slam! My arse slaps against the hardwood floor, thanks to the rogue drops of water that have brought me unstuck.

Cursing myself, and in serious pain, I flounder around. I manage to get halfway into my room before the door swings wide open, biting into the gyprock wall. Thank fuck my bare arse is out of sight.

“Who’s that?” a squeaky female voice enquires, her words accompanied by the clicking of her heels.

“Who?” Rocco slurs.

“The legs,” the girl says, as I drag my shins free of the doorway.

“None of your business,” he growls.

There’s no time to chuck on a bra, so I simply throw on a white single top and the cheeky pink Victoria’s Secret boxers I got for my last birthday. I walk out to the kitchen, head held high, in some kind of attempt to fool Rocco and his friend into thinking it’s impossible I was naked just a moment before. I fill a glass with cold water from the fridge.

The tall, dark-haired girl narrows her eyes at me as she steps farther into the apartment. She’s wearing a tank top, which is more like a second skin. Is she having trouble breathing? Her boobs are pushed up to her neck. She looks uncomfortable.

She smooths her hands down her sides, drawing my eyes to her black and white checked long nails.

Looks like Rocco dragged home a MX groupie.

Rocco pulls out a chair and literally falls into it.

“Another big night, huh?” I direct at him. He runs his hand back through his hair. It takes a good few seconds before his eyes focus on my face.

“Why the fuck not?” he says and throws his arms up, before they flop back down on the dining table.

I pick up my glass of water and take a step closer, wary that the groupie is watching me ever so closely, arms folded across her chest.

Rocco focuses on the glass and begins to chuckle. “I’m still fuckin’ pissed about your form this morning,” he mutters.

“Well you should answer your bloody phone.”

“If you’re not careful, I’m gonna sneak into your room one morning and make you wet.” Playfulness flitters in his eyes, and he reaches between his legs and palms his crutch.

Does he even remember that he brought someone home to fuck? “I highly doubt that.”

“Why?”

Let’s see if I can have a little fun here. I lean in close. “Because dick doesn’t get me wet.”

He stands and chuckles low in his throat. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but ends up staring at my tits. For longer than he should.

“No bra?” He gasps.

“What’s going on here?” the groupie whines.

I clear my throat and take a step back. “I’m off to bed to spend time with my vibrator.”

Both of their mouths drop open.

“Yeah, well good luck with that,” Rocco says and sways as he steps towards his room, palming his way along the wall. He’s blind as a bat. Groupie glares at me and then struts after Rocco, her stripper heels echoing in the hallway.

“I hope he can keep it up for you, love,” I call out. His bedroom door slams shut. I hear a squeal a second later, followed by a series of high-pitched dumb-arse giggles.

I wasn’t lying about the vibrator.

I have a date with BOB. After the day I’ve had, he’d better perform, too.

****

ROCCO

My dick is red raw, and my balls? Jesus Christ. It’s by far the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.