Yesterday was a lot. A lot of good and a lot of bad, but the two didn't cancel each other out. I woke up early after a fitful night's sleep and decided to grab some coffee to help me wake up.  Apparently, everyone else in Manhattan had the same idea. The line took forever, and now the woman in front of me can't decide what she wants. 

My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I pull it out to look, I start grinning like a jackal.

I feel my little man swell. The woman in front of me moves away and I step up and back into the real world. "Twelve-ounce Americano with room, please." I realize I never ask anymore. The please is just for flair. The total comes up and I tap my watch.

An X shows up on the screen. "It didn't accept it. Here," he clears the screen, "try again."

My watch must be broken because it fucks up again. I give up when the person behind me sighs. I pull out my wallet and try my card. Still, nothing. "What the fuck?" I ask under my breath.

"Is something wrong?"

"Sorry, I'm having issues." I pull out my debit card, not knowing how much is actually in my account. Is this card linked to where my paychecks go? Declined.

"Sir, is there something I can help you with?"

Explain to me why I can't pay for a fucking six-dollar coffee? "No. Sorry, can you cancel my order? Thanks."

Embarrassed, I leave the café, avoiding the gaze of everyone in line behind me. Once outside, I climb back into my car and hang my head in my hand. That was fucking embarrassing. My bank app loads slowly, but once it's done, my jaw drops.

Checking Account: Current Balance - $0

Savings Account: Current Balance - $0

I pull up my credit card app and log in with my fingerprint. In the tab for my balance, the only thing it shows is Click HERE to sign up for an account. And in my statement history, a zero dollar balance followed by Account Closed.

What. The. Fuck.

. . .

I fumed the whole way to my apartment, knowing damn well what was going on. Dad. He's a piece of shit. Punishing me for what? Caring about my mother?

The door slams behind me when I go inside and immediately call him. He must not have looked at the caller ID when he answers with a generic, "Reynolds."

"Dad. It's me." He says nothing back. "Do you know why my bank accounts are empty and my card is cut off?"

"You know why, Heath. Why would I continue to support you when you go against me at every turn?"

"What?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out that you went behind my back and took your mother out of treatment?" he asks. A chill settles heavily on my skin. He knows. "Either learn some respect or learn how to pay your own bills."

My anger bursts. "You can't fucking do this shit, Dad! You think I'm going to side with you when you put here there every time you leave, like some kind of kid who needs babysitting?! That's my mom! Your wife, in case you forgot."

"You are so naïve," he says with a sigh. "I've made my decision."

I hate him. I fucking hate him. "Cut me off then. I don't give a fuck! I don't want your blood money, anyway!" I hang up on him and throw my phone against the wall.

Shit. I can't afford to fix that.

. . .

The fear of my financial instability ruined my whole day. Hours of anger and anxiety left me emotionally drained. But none of that matters, because now I'm lounging on the couch having the hottest lazy sex of my life.

Teagan naked on my lap, sliding that wet pussy up and down my dick while she purrs with delight . . . it takes all I have not to lose my shit. She balances herself with her hands on my chest, her tits bouncing right in front of my face. With the head of my cock pressing against her deep inside, the friction makes me lose my goddamn mind.

I slide my hands over her ass, her hips, her chest. She hums her approval, but her eyes stay closed tight. Teags is in her own world, taking what she wants from me. I'm a dildo with a pulse and I am not complaining.

She drops her head back and moans louder with every stroke. I feel it too. Her fingers dig into my skin, her body shaking in my hands. I grip her hips hard, moving her faster up and down my cock. It's good, so fucking good. "Mmm," I try to hang on, to savor every second I can have, but it's too much. "Fuck!"

She curls up, her hips shaking in my hands as she comes. I follow right after her, moaning as I shoot my load, her pussy gripping me like a fist.

I catch her as she tumbles sideways. Pulling her against my chest, I wrap her up in my arms, flexing my hips to get in a few more strokes while my soul pours from me and into the condom. Holy fucking shit.

My head falls back when my strength leaves. She moves her hips a little more, milking out the last piece of me I have left. My thank you is a weak spank and a grip of her ass.

"Fuck, that was good," I think out loud.

I slide my hands over her perfect skin, feeling her ribs and the small swell of her breasts. With a sigh, her hands slide down my chest. She won't thank me. Not for a while, at least. For some reason, she thinks not saying I rocked her world means I won't know.

Too soon, she lifts herself from me and I slip from her warmth. My dick instantly misses her. She sits beside me, that cute little post-orgasm look of stupor on her face.

"Can we make Sundays an official part of our schedule yet?" I ask her.

"Shut up," she says between her labored breaths. She looks over her shoulder at me and her eyes narrow. "But I'll consider it."

I take that as a win.

She reaches for the throw blanket and covers herself with it. My fun is over.

"Did you book your flight yet?" she asks.

"Are you serious?" I look at her with a laugh. "That's where your brain goes when we fuck?"

"No. But fuck with my schedule and you will no longer get to fuck me," she threatens. Picking her clothes from the floor, I can tell we're in business mode again. "Did you book it or not?"

The blanket hangs low when she stands, exposing her again. Finally, she lets it fall. She raises her arms to slip her shirt back on. In profile, the smooth lines of her body twist and arch like silk, from her chest, the narrowing path of her waist, the sway of her ass, and down those long legs. My eyes trace every inch of every curve.

She hops to help get her jeans over her ass and I have to appreciate the sight. She fastens them around her waist and looks down at me with a glare.

"Heath!"

"Huh? Yeah, I paid for that after we decided which club to go to."

"Not the flight to Vegas. The flight to Valencia."

Oh shit. "Um . . ."

She groans in a less enjoyable way than she did a few minutes ago. "I reminded you about this weeks ago. Brett hasn't talked to you about his new yacht five thousand times already? Because he has with me."

"No, he has. Sorry, I meant to do it this weekend."

"Okay, then do it now." She lifts my phone from the table and throws it onto the couch beside me.

When has anyone in our group not had money? We were born with a silver spoon in our mouths and a drawer full of more right beside us. Paying for something as small as a commercial flight? That's nothing. 

When you have a credit card.

I watch as she grabs her little purse from the table and slings the strap over her head. She looks ready to walk out, and I'm praying she does. But, as always, she looks at me with annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The second I walk out, you're going to fall asleep and forget again. I'm going to stay until you do it." Then you better get comfortable, babe.

I don't want to tell her what happened. I definitely don't want to tell her why it happened. She'll be pissed, but she will be more pissed if she finds out later. "I would, but . . ."

Her scowl gets deeper. "But what?" 

I take a deep breath for courage. "Well . . ."

_____

Best of luck, Heath. We'll see how that goes in the next chapter. I hope you come back!

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