Secrets and a Shattered Heart

They burst through the door, almost attached at the hip and crawling up each other. They ran into the couch, two lamps, and into the bedroom door. Lips still locked, he reached behind his back and opened the door. He turned around and led her to the bed.

His tongue was nearly lodged in her throat as they fell onto the bed and proceeded to maul each other with fierce movements of ripping each others clothes off. The alcohol was getting to her and she couldn't do anything about it. This little bit of consciousness that is left is nowhere near enough to stop this drunk.

His lips never left hers except for the split second it took for him to take her dress off after she unbuttoned, or rather ripped off, his shirt. She could feel him hard against her between her legs. He pinned her down and kissed her neck all over. She leaned her head back and arched her back slightly. He moved down to her chest. He slowly licked her collarbone and kissed it. She clawed his back lightly as he ran his hands up and down her sides, pressing himself against her.

She moved her head down and lightly sucked on his jugular. She kissed her way down his chest as he sat up. They leaned back too far and fell off the bed. She landed on his chest and he ran his hands up and down her back, then to her panties. She sat up and smiled at him. She jumped back on the bed and beckoned him. He pushed himself off the floor and stood at the edge of the bed. She unbuckled his belt and whipped it off and continued to unbutton and unzip his pants, throwing them to the floor. He stepped out of them and tackled her to the bed. He kissed her chest and maneuvered his hand into her panties. He began fingering her, and she arched her back. He took off her panties and continued. He rubbed her all the right ways and went down. She moaned and panted, then pushed him over ripping his boxers off. She straddled him and pushed herself against him then licked his torso all over.

He pushed her over onto her back and pushed his tip in. She arched her back and moaned. He started thrusting against her and she could feel a climax creeping up and down her body as he kept on. On and on, more and more and her body finally gave in to the immense pleasure that had built up ever since they burst through the door. She moaned loudly and he then switched positions pulling her leg up to his arm and holding her at a slant. He began thrusting again and she wrapped my free leg around his bent knee. She grabbed the bed sheets in anticipation of another climax and started breathing very uneasily. This time when she hit it she screamed and he moaned loudly.

They laid there, recharging their energy, and turned and looked at each other, her vision slightly blurred. He slumped over her body and laid there, still inside, with his head on her chest, and nose in her cleavage. He was sweaty and she could tell he was about at his energy max driven to near insanity between the alcohol and pleasure.

It was all over and they were dripping with sweat, panting like dogs, and barely had enough energy to turn over. He used what little energy he had to pull her close to his chest and entangle his fingers in her hair. She pressed her cheek up against his bare, sweaty chest.

He had a rather muscular build to him. Toned muscles, but not large. Dyed black hair, which was partially spiked, it reminded her of Adam Lambert's hair when it's spiked in the faux hawk, but is now matted to his forehead. His chest wasn't full of hair, but just enough. He was an angel to this drunk, that's for sure. Especially after the two and a half hours of setting his sheets on fire.

Deandra thought back on that time, not the first, but most certainly not the last, time they were together like that. They had been dating for about five or six months and the gang decided to go clubbing. She joined them and they all learned how intolerant to alcohol her body was. After three beers she was singing to the top of her lungs and dancing like it was going out of style. She didn't remember everything from that night but Brad did. He filled her in the next morning.

She reminisced as she walked down the sidewalk. She didn't know or care where she walked, she just wanted to walk until she felt the need to stop or got tired, whichever came first. It has been almost a week since Brad broke it off and she's sulked every day of it. She couldn't figure out why he left, either. She never complained about him being gone half the time. She knew he would be on tour with his band, practicing, or in the studio. She was prepared to deal with that.

Her legs stopped almost abruptly. She looked around at her surroundings and found herself near the shopping center. Window shopping always helped her when she was feeling down. She never could figure out why but she wasn't complaining. She walked up to the nearest clothing store and began browsing through racks and shelves of clothes until she heard a painfully familiar voice. Her ears perked up and she looked around to find the source of the voice.

No more than seven racks down stood Brad and a blond woman a little taller than herself. She dove down to conceal herself from them. She watched them from afar.

'He wouldn't have....' Deandra began thinking. 'He wouldn't have cheated on me with her. He isn't the guy to do that. She has to be a relative.'

She quickly grabbed the nearest hat off a rack and placed it on her head. It was a purple wide brimmed hat. Perfect for her to hide from them a little. She continued to pretend browsing clothes holding them up in the direction of the two. She held up a pair of shorts and she glanced over to them. The woman was holding up a shirt against herself and Mike nodded. Deandra put the shorts around her forearm and picked up a shirt and holding it up again. Brad and the woman were walking parallel to her with his arm around the woman.

She narrowed her eyes and angrily put the shorts and shirt back on random racks. She flipped the hat off her head with the back of her hand causing it to land in the floor as she stormed up to the front of the store towards the two.

"Brad fucking Campbell!" she screamed up the aisle but immediately put on a fake smile to cover up her anger. The woman wouldn't know any different, but he would.

His head shot up, his eyes widened, and then his entire face dropped. He looked like he just witnessed a tragic death or suicide. The blond woman had a confused and enraged look in her eyes.

"Excuse me, who do you think you are talking to my boyfriend like that?" she asked.

"Yeah, Brad, who am I to talk to her like that?"

The woman scrunched her face and looked at Brad with a confused look. He was speechless from fear. He knew he was screwed. Deandra noticed his hands shaking a little.

"So, what's your name?" Deandra asked.

"Brittney, why?"

"I'm Deandra. Obviously we haven't met and I was just wondering why. Mike and I are pretty good friends," she lied. She tried to regain her composure regardless of being enraged. "I figured he would introduce me to his girlfriend. How long have you two been dating?"

"Oh, well I'd say about," she paused and looked up at Brad. A drop of sweat trickled down the opposite side of his face. His mouth twitched. "two or three months, maybe."

"Oh really now?" she asked cocking an eyebrow and tilting her head back and to the side. She looked around for a clock and pulled her phone out. "Well, I have to head to work," she lied. "I'll see you guys around."

She spun around on her heels and headed out the door. Her mind was cleared of questions and now filled with anger. She couldn't help but wish bad luck on their relationship.

'He better damn well be happy with this one. Cheating on me for two months and then breaking up with me.'

She walked down a couple blocks and sat down on the wall against the sidewalk in front of a house. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed as she watched the cars drive by.