Page 9 of Finding Storm

Dark brown hair is splayed over the white pillowcase.

Brown hair?

I screwed a blonde last night. I know that for sure. I was sober when I did it.

We banged on the sofa after she finished sucking my cock. Well, technically, she banged me. Cowgirl-style.

Don’t worry; I made sure she got hers too. I’m not a total asshole.

After we fucked, we put the clothes back on that we’d removed—well, I pulled my pants back up and zipped away the goods, and she put her panties back on and righted her tits back into her bra.

We left the dressing room and went back to the green room where the boys still were.

I remember Raze putting a beer in my hand. Cash put a shot in the other, and we started drinking.

The blonde …

Fuck, what was her name?

Mindy? Morgan?

Actually, it doesn’t matter.

Whoever she was, she stuck around. Well, she stuck to me even though I’d been clear as day that it was one fuck and one fuck only.

Looks like I shook her off at some point in the night.

Slowly, I sit up. My head is pounding like a bitch.

I glance over at the brunette.

Ah. The blonde’s here too. She’s lying asleep on the other side of the unknown brunette.

Guess I didn’t shake her off after all. I just upped my numbers.

I should feel good, waking up in bed with two women.

I don’t.

I feel … nothing.

Empty.

Tired.

Bored of the same old shit.

Yet I keep doing it to myself.

Moving carefully so as not to wake my bed companions, I hold the duvet back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

The nightstand is littered with condom wrappers and a … dildo?

Where the fuck did the dildo come from?

Actually, I don’t want to know.

My ass doesn’t feel sore, so at least I know it wasn’t used on me.