Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

Sloppy Sex

After a minute, he lowered me so I had my legs wrapped around his waist and I tasted myself on his lips as he kissed me. He inserted his cock into me and bounced me there, our chests pressed together, my arms on his bulging biceps as he raised and lowered me by the waist.

Now that I had cum, each thrust of his dick made me more and more aware that I had to pee (I'd had about nine vodka sodas, mind you). I dragged my nails across his flesh and he moaned, pushing me against the wall once again wrapping a large hand around my throat, forcing me to look into his eyes as he climaxed, vision going hazy as each pump of his cock grew slower, spending more time fully buried in me.

He collapsed fully onto the floor, careful to not let me hit anything, and I giggled, wiggling on top of his dick, which was still hard and big enough for me to feel in my tummy. I let him stay in there as he laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes, his penis slowly softening. As I ran my fingers across his chest, his abs, his angelic face, I forgot I had to pee, just let myself get totally caught up in the moment.

Then the music outside changed and the spell was broken.

I gave him a quick peck on the lips and hopped off, his flaccid cock slipping out of me along with a few drops of cum and I went into one of the stalls and peed for a solid minute, too drunk to care if he heard or judged me. When I got out he was still lying on his back, naked, not appearing to care that he was touching a bar bathroom floor with his bare skin.**

I got dressed quickly, almost falling over putting on my shoe, the world tilting sideways for a moment. He was slowly getting up, glazed-eyed like he'd just woken up from a particularly long nap. Even as I slung my purse over my shoulder, I couldn't help but marvel at how like a Grecian hero sculpted from marble he was. Maybe it was just the vodka goggles.

"See you around," I said, as though we'd just gotten to chatting in the supermarket, before unlocking the door and walked out.

Pretty much immediately, I was accosted by Sal, you wrapped a powerful hand around my upper arm.

"You're not driving," he said.

"What?" I said, giggling.

"You're drunk. It's almost eleven so my shift's over and I'm taking you home."

"I can get home just fine by myself," I slurred, fishing in my purse for my keys.

He pulled me out of the bar, pushing people aside with his massive, 6'4", 220 pounds of muscle body, before sliding a hand inside my purse and grabbing my keys with ease.

"What about your car, dumbass, you ever think about that?" I slurred as he shoved me into the passenger's seat.

"I'm sure your father wouldn't mind letting his godson stay in one of your ten billion spare rooms."

My head ached at his statement. Obviously, we weren't blood-relatives, and he'd lived in Cleveland with his parents until they died when he was 22 and he moved back here, where his dad and mine had been best friends, until he could get back on his feet. But it was still strange, to hold the fact that his body coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel gave me my first taste of arousal as a middle-schooler with the fact that he was essentially an honorary cousin.

I wonder if he'd been over the house a lot while I was gone, taught Steve how to style his hair. The thought was depressingly sobering. He drove smooth as the single-malt whiskey my dad brought back from Scotland on a business trip. His eyes were pale as celery stalks and placid as an untouched lake, but his white-knuckled grip on my steering wheel gave away his anger.

My stomach rolled with nausea now that the high of my one night stand had passed. The only saving grace was that my eight drinks were all vodka sodas. If I ever even attempted to mix liquors, I would spend the next twelve hours puking my guts out. As it was, I knew I'd have a wicked hangover the next day.

"I missed you," I whispered to him, pressing my temple to the cold glass.

"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it," Sal snapped.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He took his eyes off the road to glare at me, before making a left onto my cul de sac. "You come to my place of employment, get wasted, and then fuck a stranger in a bar bathroom and have the audacity to ask me what I mean?" He rolled his eyes as he parked my beetle in front of my parent's house.

I slumped low in my seat and folded my arms in protest. I hated this house, and he was being mean to me. My brain told me he was right, that I'd probably humiliated him in front of his fellow employees, not to mention ruined whatever cool, experienced college student reputation I might have managed to cultivate with him.

"C'mon Deb, get out, you need some sleep."

"I'll sleep in the car," I grumbled, turning away from him.

"No, you won't, it's too cold for that shit. Be a big girl and go to your room." I could feel his glare on the back of my head. "I won't ask again."

Even if I wanted to go back in there, which I didn't, I had the spins and my legs didn't feel like they were attached to my body. When I looked back at him, he seemed to be able to read this on my face and scooped me up in his arms. I resisted at first, the jostling feeling of his lumbering gait making my head ache, but I soon realized I didn't have the energy to fight him.

"God Deb, how are you still such a lightweight."

"I am not," I murmured as he climbed upstairs in the dark. I half expected, maybe even hoped, my parents would wait up to make sure I was okay. But of course, their beauty sleep was too important.

"Are too."

"Nine vodkas is a lot; I am appropriately drunk."

He chuckled. "Guess it's just not what I'm used to."

I rolled my head around to lay it on Sal's chest and wrapped my arm around his neck to steady myself. "You aren't drinking again, are you?"

The muscles on the back of his head shifted, letting me know he was smiling. "Not a drop, babe," he said, laying me down in bed. He gently removed my shoes and filled up a glass of water in my bathroom, setting it on my bedside table. Then he gave me a gentle peck on the forehead that lingered just a second too long to be platonic and whispered, "I missed you too."

After he left, the world was spinning so roughly behind my eyes, I have no clue how I fell asleep.