Clusterpuck (Vegas Crush #9)

12. You Drove Me There

12 /

you drove me there

Tripp

I should be having a better time.

I’m four beers in and there’s a blonde on my lap. Unfortunately, I’m not that drunk and even less interested.

It’s not that she’s not attractive, or willing. She’s both. She has a short skirt on, and she’s placed my hand on her thigh more times than I can count at this point.

The problem?

Well, I’m thinking it’s the fact that Lila Marchmont-Terry is out on the dance floor right now. I’ve been watching Lila and Laura Gallant dance around for the last twenty minutes, both of them attracting quite a fair amount of male attention while doing it, too.

I get why. They’re both beautiful women. Laura is statuesque, tall, and fit. She stands out in a crowd, which means all eyes are on her, and consequently, on Lila as well.

To be fair, Lila does not look all that comfortable. She looks shy and controlled, despite being the most naturally beautiful woman out there. With her long brown hair falling around her bare shoulders and that black halter dress clinging to every single one of her lush curves, she looks like a goddess to me. She doesn’t wear a lot of makeup or jewelry, but it doesn’t matter. The adornments wouldn’t matter, because Lila is a beacon. She’s sexy without knowing it, which makes her very dangerous.

I want to blind every man who has his eyes on her right now.

The blonde on my lap chatters away with her friend, sitting next to Dale. The trainer has his arm casually draped around the woman’s shoulders, his fingers softly stroking her skin. Her hand is on his crotch. I don’t pay any of it much attention, my eyes glued to the brunette smokeshow I’ve known all her life out on the dance floor.

A faster song starts and Lila grins, putting her hands up and getting a bit more into the beat. Her luscious tits move along with the song, and I feel like I might burst into flames. My cock stirs at the sight, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by the one on my lap, who wiggles around a bit in response. She leans back and whispers, “We can go have a fuck if you want.”

She stands and turns, holding out her hand.

This is not me. Not really, not usually. But to keep sitting here staring holes into the woman I can’t have? No. I won’t sit here with my dick hard for someone who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole. I need a release, and this option will come with no strings attached. So, I stand and take her hand, letting her lead me back to the restrooms, into an unoccupied stall in the ladies’ room.

“Mouth or pussy?” Blondie asks, all business as she uses her fingertips to harden her own nipples, visible through the flimsy fabric of her white halter top. Her skin is tan, and her legs are long, and any man would probably want her. But all I can think about is Lila and I hate myself for it.

“Mouth.”

She frees my cock from my pants and falls to her knees, taking me into her mouth. My head falls back against the metal of the stall wall, one hand on her shoulder as she does her work. She’s efficient, I’ll give her that. She knows what she’s doing. And I could come quickly, but for the fact that my brain is slightly fuzzy from the alcohol, and I keep trying to force images of Lila out of my head.

The age gap. Our families. The fact that we’re so different. I’ve always pushed every thought of her away. I’ve stayed away from her. I’ve stopped myself from thinking of her or tried damn hard not to think of her.

But those thoughts won’t stop now.

It’s Lila’s red lips I imagine around my cock right now.

It’s her tight little pussy I can imagine plunging into.

It’s her beautiful body I can only imagine getting lost in.

So, when I do come, it feels violent and uncontrolled, and strangely unsatisfying.

And I’m utterly angry at myself.

Also, totally turned on by the many forbidden thoughts of Lila still racing through my head. Lovely Lila, with her gorgeous tits and her tight ass and her dark chocolate brown hair flowing over perfect naked skin as we fuck wildly.

I help Blondie to her feet and go right back to Lovely Lila Land in my mind before I sweep my fingers up underneath her dress to find a wet and wanting pussy. My thumb finds her clit as two fingers slip inside. I’m efficient, too, working her there, pinning her to the wall as she rides my hand until she comes, tightening, crying out softly. Throughout the finger-bang, Blondie’s been stroking my cock and it’s hard again, but I don’t want to be inside of this woman. It’s too personal, and I don’t want—to be here with her at all. I only want Lila. This thought overwhelms me just as Blondie takes my cock in hand and starts adding a little twist to each stroke. It sets off an instant explosion as I start to come again, my subconscious mind firing off sparks that burst into flames and spell out L-I-L-A.

It really fucking looks like her name written in fire in my mind.

“ Someone had some pent-up energy,” Blondie says smugly as we each work to situate ourselves afterward.

I grunt back at her like a Neanderthal; my mind is so numb. From the thought of what I just did with a stranger while imagining doing it with Lila. And I don’t like how that feels at all. I want to go home and take a long hot shower and drink a few more beers. Alone.

Blondie waves and smiles at me before stepping out of the stall.

And, of course, who else but Lila would be washing her hands at the sink as I follow Blondie out.

In the mirror, Lila’s eyes go wide when she sees me, and then darken as her cheeks turn red. The one who just jerked me off after previously sucking me off, walks up beside Lila and puts her mouth under the faucet, fills it with water, swirls it around, spits it out. Two separate rounds of the mouth rinsing and the hand washing take about a year to complete. Blondie then checks her teeth, reapplies her lipstick, and walks out, the sound of the door closing behind her making a hard clap before settling back into a whole lot of deafening silence.

All while I stand there, staring into Lila’s wide eyes in the mirror, her back stiff and straight. The tell she’s upset as clear as day.

FuckfuckfuckfuckFUUUUUUCK .

Lila breaks the eye-contact first, looking down at the sink to turn off the water and then drying her hands methodically with a paper towel. I blink, trying to process the scene, praying this nightmare is just my imagination playing a dirty fuckin’ trick on me.

But it’s no trick, it’s really happening because once Lila is out the door, the sound of the heavy weight of the thing closing again snaps me right out of my motherfucking stupor.

It’s pure instinct to go after her.

I can’t do anything else.

So, I make the third exit out of that bathroom in as many minutes and follow her out into the crowd. I hang back as she finds Laura Gallant looking quite cozy dancing with some random guy and observe the scene like a stalker. Lila holds up her phone and Laura nods, as if they’re executing their pre-approved exit plan to each other.

Of which I fully approve.

But like a creep, I follow her once more as she heads out of the club and into the night. I find her on the sidewalk, working a phone app to call for a ride. As she looks up and sees me, she blushes again, the rosy red tint highlighting her cheeks under the nighttime Vegas lights. But her eyes sweep down quickly because she can’t look at me and I don’t blame her a bit for that. I created this fucked-up situation, not her.

“Lila.” I take a step closer and then stop myself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” She doesn’t look up from her phone as she speaks.

“Is Laura okay being left behind?”

“She met someone. I was just using the restroom before heading out anyway.”

“So, you aren’t…upset?”

She squares her shoulders and finally looks up, her lovely eyes flashing angry sparks despite acting unaffected by the horror show she’s just witnessed. “Why would be I be upset, Tripp?”

“I don’t usually do stuff like that,” I feel compelled to say. At the same time hating how pathetically shitty the words sound coming out of my dumb fuckin’ mouth.

“Stuff like what?” Lila’s laughter sounds forced and bitter. “Sex with a stranger in a club bathroom? Don’t all the hockey studs do stuff like that?”

“Not me. Not usually.”

She looks away as if she can’t stand the sight of me for another instant. I almost tell her she was the one who drove me into that stall tonight. It was the way she looked in her little black dress. And the way her body moved so alive and sensually on the dance floor. It was her silky long hair and perfect skin on display for my thirsty eyes to soak up to my heart’s content for fucking once.

I bite back every one of those words, though.

“I’m really sorry you saw that.”

She levels me with the coldness of her stare, her eyes shining like black ice. “You’re a grown-ass man, Tripp. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want.”

Her car pulls up, but she checks the license plate first before confirming with the driver. Again, I approve of all the cautionary measures. With her hand on the door, she then turns toward me and leans forward to speak directly at my ear. “You can do whoever you want, and I won’t care.”

She gets in and shuts the door, her eyes locked forward, so very done with looking at me, speaking to me, or otherwise acknowledging my existence on the planet.

I feel completely helpless as I watch her go.

I can’t do anything but just stand beside a city electrical box on the sidewalk like a fuckin’ fool as her car speeds further and further away from me.

Until she disappears into the city.