Hustler (22 page)

After flushing, I stand in front of the mirror and wash my hands, taking in my ragged appearance. My hair looks freshly fucked by a woman’s fingers and the dark circles under my eyes that are normally there in the morning are replaced by a man who looks completely satisfied.

Not for long
, I think to myself. I don’t know if this insatiable craving for her will ever completely go away.

Putting on a pair of shorts, I take in the room one last time to make sure I didn’t miss a piece of clothing that belonged to the little brunette that rocked my world last night.

Nothing.

With dread stirring in the pit of my stomach, I make my way down the hallway and to my main living area, my bare feet padding across the cold hardwood floor.

To my dismay, when I reach the open concept space, I don’t see one sign of Penelope, only the fact that my front door is unlocked and the room doesn’t look like anyone spent any time in it since last night.

“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes again.

And it’s not like I have her number so I can call her and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing leaving unnoticed this morning.

It shouldn’t matter to me; I shouldn’t care about her leaving. Hell, I usually have to push women out the door in the morning, or have my maid usher them out during her daily clean. I should be happy, fucking
thankful
that there is no awkward morning talk about what a great time last night was.

Shit, it wasn’t just a great time. It was the best fucking sex I’ve ever had. Not just because she had a tight pussy that sucked me dry, but because I felt her connection with me deep in my soul when I looked down into those guarded eyes of hers. The minute she looked up at me, with my cock buried deep inside of her, I lost all control of my ability to mask my emotions. I was needy, greedy as fuck. At first, I took her slowly and methodically, but then ravenous once I couldn’t hold out any longer. She gripped my back. I nearly bit her shoulder. The pressure… so intense from the spot I hit inside her with my cock, the screams coming out of her mouth, it was all too much. I came so goddamned hard I thought the end of my dick was going to fall off.

And then like a two-bit chump, I passed out, my arms wrapped around her petite, beautiful body while my nose buried itself deep in her sweet smelling hair. It probably only took me two minutes to black out completely, and stay out for the rest of the night.

If I had it my way, I would have fucked her at least three more times before the sunrise, taking advantage of her naked body, spreading her legs to an unimaginable width just to lick that luscious cunt of hers, flattening my tongue along her clit until I could literally feel it pulsing against my mouth.

That’s what I wanted, I wanted to feel the absolute and total abandonment against my tongue, her arms stretched above her head and my face buried in her pussy, lapping her up until she cried out, begging me to stop from too much pleasure.

“Fuck me.”

Working my way into my kitchen, I pour myself some coffee courtesy of my timed coffee pot and head over to the expanse of windows in my living room. Scratching my chest, I sip the brew and observe the quiet city in front of me, watching only those who have to work early in the morning wandering along the streets.

In the distance, I can hear my phone ring from my bedroom. For some desperate reason, I think it’s Penelope, so I sprint after it, tripping over my living room rug and stubbing my toe on the coffee table.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse, limping the rest of the way to my room, trying not to spill the contents of my mug as I hobble to my phone.

I don’t have time to notice the caller ID before I answer.

“Hello?” I say in a panic. “Is that you? Penelope?”

“If it is, then I have a pretty burly voice, don’t you think?”

Shit, it’s Scott. Thank FUCK it isn’t Graham. Holy crap he would never let me hear the end of it for the way I answered the phone.

“Oh hey, what’s up,” I say casually.

“I was calling to see if I left my wallet at your place last night but now I’m a bit more interested to hear about why you were wondering if it was Penelope calling you.”

“Where did you leave your wallet?” I ask, ignoring Scott’s attempt to get into my personal life.

“How about you tell me about how last night went after we left
then
I tell you where I think my wallet is?”

I lay across my bed after setting my mug on the table. “Is that supposed to be some kind of deal? You realize I couldn’t give zero fucks about your wallet, right?”

“There’s twenty dollars in it for you…”

I grip my forehead, massaging it slowly. “Is your love life really that pathetic that you’re willing to pay twenty bucks to hear about what happened last night?”

“The romantic comedies I’ve been watching just aren’t doing it for me anymore,” he jokes. “Come on man, just tell me what happened with Penelope. Is she okay at least?”

“Wouldn’t know,” I answer honestly. “She snuck out this morning before I could check.”

“Nooo.” If the man wasn’t two more bicep curls away from impersonating The Rock, I would think that he was a woman.

“Where did your balls go? Did you leave them in the locker room at the gym?”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone before he responds. “You knew what you were signing up for when you asked me to be your friend.”

“Why do you say that like I proposed to you with a goddamned friendship bracelet or something?”

“It was a watch and I accepted with happy tears,” Scott lies sarcastically. “Seriously though, did you fuck her last night?”

Why did it sound so bad when Scott said it like that? Normally I would fling that word around, no problem when it came to talking about any other woman I’ve been with, but with Penelope, it seems so crass. Penelope isn’t just a girl you fucked.

“Yeah, we had sex last night.”

“And…?”

Motherfucker is persistent. Knowing he isn’t going to let up until I tell him, I make him promise me something before I continue.

“If I tell you about last night, will you swear on your nut sac that you won’t tell Graham? I don’t need that prick making jabs at me right now, especially not after I hired Page last night to dick him around.”

“Promise,” Scott says a little too eagerly.

Sighing, I tell him all about what Penelope told me about her attempts at auditioning for La Magie, which I had no idea about. I knew there had to be a bigger reason as to why she was living in Vegas, living paycheck to paycheck, but I never would have guessed at her aspirations. Although, after experiencing her flexibility last night, I can now put two and two together.

“Shit, that must have torn her apart.”

“It did,” I answer, feeling my stomach churn for her all over again. “And when I told her I could help her with my connections, she kissed me. This whole cat and mouse game has been
me
chasing
her
, so last night, when she kissed me for the first time, I was caught off guard.”

“Sounds magical,” he fake swoons.

“Fuck off.” We both laugh.

“Then you did it? You dipped her doughnut.”

“What is wrong with you? No one says that, but yes, we did it. And fuck, Scotty, I literally felt like my cock was about to explode with how hard I came, and then I passed out like a shithead.”

“Really? You didn’t go for round two?”

“It was like I turned into a goddamned narcoleptic. I passed out cold. Didn’t wake up until my alarm went off this morning.”

“Damn.”

“Tell me about it.” I sit up on the bed and rest my elbows on my knees, one hand holding the phone to my ear. “It was like she drugged me last night. I’ve been so restless lately and having her in my arms changed all of that. That is, until this morning when I noticed she left without even leaving a single fucking note. Now I feel irritated and anxious all over again.”

“My, my, my, Gavin Saint, I didn’t think you had the ability to have feelings like all us other normal human beings.”

I grumble, “And this is why I didn’t want to tell you anything.” I head to my bathroom and turn on the shower. “The worst part is, I don’t have her number so it’s not like I can call her if I wanted to.”

Scott pauses, I can practically hear his mind working. “Hey, don’t you know where she lives though?”

As if the clouds part and the sun shines directly on me, the little bit of hope is nearly blinding. “Yeah, I do.”

“I say you bring her some muffins this morning. A little breakfast that she might have missed out on. Gives you a chance to have the upper hand again.”

For once in my entire friendship with Scott, I’m grateful for talking to him about bullshit women stuff.

“That’s actually a really good idea.”

“I know,” he says proudly.

“Thanks, man. I’m going to hop in the shower, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait,” Scott shouts over the phone before I can hang up. “Dude, my wallet. Did I leave it there?”

Seeing it earlier on the coffee table during my stumble across the apartment, I let him know it’s here. “Yup. You have a key, it’s on the coffee table.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Rolling my eyes, I hang up the phone and think about what suit I’ll wear to offer Penelope a good morning. Time to turn up the fucking heat.

***

Let it be known, I really don’t like where Penelope lives. Not at fucking all. There is zero security in the communal hallways - any stranger could walk in - and the walls are incredibly thin, to the point that while I made my way through her apartment complex I heard three neighbors fighting, someone banging the fuck out of someone else, and a baby crying incessantly. This was not a place for a girl like Penelope to live… or Page for that matter.

Briefly, I ponder over what Graham would think if he knew Page lived here. Would he care? Would he want to offer her another place to live? Hell, I wanted to hook them up with a place in Hotel Paragon just so I didn’t have to come up here again. If a cockroach popped out from nowhere and started gnawing off my nipple I wouldn’t be surprised.

Oh look, and there’s a rat
eating
a cockroach. Fan-fucking-tastic
.

With a box of freshly baked muffins stuffed under my arm and a drink carrier of to-go coffees in my hand, I knock on their front door.

From the other side, because the walls are so thin and cheap, I can hear Page and Penelope’s conversation.

“Who could that be?”

“I don’t know. Grab the bat just in case, creepy Dave could be looking for more used razor blades.”

Yeah, I didn’t fucking like her living here at all.

“It’s too early for creepy Dave. Let me check the peephole,” Page’s voice becomes more distinct as she steps up to the door. “Oh my God, Nell, it’s Gavin.”

“What?” Penelope’s voice is full of panic. I keep my face set in stone, in case they’re still looking at me through the peephole. “What’s he doing here? Don’t answer the door. If we stay quiet, maybe he’ll go away.”

“But it looks like he has food. I don’t feel like eating Ramen noodles for breakfast again.”

“Do not let him in,” Penelope grits out. “Not after last night.”

“Penelope, the box is pink. That means pastries.”

“Page, I swear to God if you open that door I will divorce you.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “You know ladies, these walls aren’t exactly conducive for secret conversations. I suggest, before you embarrass yourselves even more, you just open the door.”

“Oh my God! He can hear us,” Page hisses.

It sounds like Penelope groans.

“Page, I have freshly baked muffins, still warm from the oven…”

The door flies open to reveal Page with a side pony, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Her eyes are fixated on the coffee and muffins in my hands.

“Come on in. Let me take those off your hands.”

“Thank you,” I laugh as she strips the breakfast treats from my grasp and sets them on the coffee table, just to kneel on the ground in front of them and tear into the box without permission. Before I can say hi to Penelope, Page has a blueberry muffin in her mouth with a look of contentment on her face.

Pulling my attention away from Page, I glance over at Penelope who’s wearing nothing but my button up shirt from last night and a shocked look on her face.

Fucking hell she looks good in my clothes.

“Good morning, Miss Prescott. Have a good night?”

She rolls her eyes at my formality. “Dandy,” she answers sarcastically, avoiding all eye contact with me.

“I wouldn’t just say dandy,” Page attempts a chubby-cheeked grin, her mouth full of muffin.

Furious, Penelope says, “Hey Page, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Staring down at the muffin, Page answers, “Yeah, at the Little White Chapel with this muffin, saying ‘I do’. I want to marry the shit out of this little fella.”

Shutting their door, I walk toward Penelope, taking in their small apartment full of used, torn furniture. The difference in our lives is dramatic, my walls are decorated with fine art I spent years collecting, whereas Penelope’s walls are decorated with water stains and random pictures I’m sure she purchased at the local dollar store. It isn’t pretty, it’s run down and way beneath the class that exudes out of both Penelope and Page, but it
is
comfortable. It’s obvious both of them have put a lot of work into making something deplorable seem almost livable. And I use the word
almost
very sarcastically.

I stare over at Penelope sitting on the edge of the couch, never shifting my gaze from her eyes. “So, Page, you were saying her night was more than just dandy?”

Penelope steps in before Page can answer. “She wasn’t saying anything.” Waving her hand in front of her face she continues, “Damn Page, is that you? I think you need to go take a shower. There’s some kind of stench wafting off of you.”

A little taken back, Page sniffs her under arm. “I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s hard to smell traitorous, rotten bitch on yourself,” Penelope sneers. “Best go wash it off.”

Insulted, Page stands tall, her muffin and coffee in her hand. “Well, you’re rude.” She takes off for her bedroom but not before calling over her shoulder. “Gavin, you were the best sex she’s ever had. She told me you almost broke her clit.”