Drunk In Love: The Complete Series: BBW BDSM Erotica Read Online Free PDF Page B

Instead of kicking him out that day, I grabbed the bottle and drank the rest.
    He kissed me as if I’d confessed my love for him. I guess that day was when he felt I finally understood him. Instead of running off to a meeting and drinking gallons of water to rid his body of the alcohol, we made love.
    On the kitchen floor, he brought every bottle of alcohol that he had stashed around the house. It was a Thanksgiving of booze, and to celebrate, we made love right there on the kitchen floor. He ripped my clothes off and poured vodka on my chest, licking it off as we made love. I drank too, guzzling a vodka bottle as he entered me, slamming his pelvis into mine.
    That day, Trevor and I changed for the worse.
    Instead of me encouraging him not to drink, I made beer runs with him. Our house was always stocked, and I turned into the thing I tried to stop him from being.
    “You finally understand me,” Trevor had said back then after we were done.
    That day, I should have demanded that he leave.
    Now I couldn’t get rid of him, or maybe I wasn’t strong enough to rid myself of Trevor.
    “Will you ever forgive me?” he asked, peeling his head from my shoulder and looking into my eyes.
    “Sure, babe. I forgive you.”
    He kissed me. The same lips that kissed that woman were now on my lips. I wanted to throw up, but I had also kissed somebody. Shit... how did I get myself into this?
    I saw the bruises on Trevor’s face. I guessed that was from me. That broke my heart even more.
    “Babe, why don’t you go take a shower? I’m going to clean up, and maybe later I can take you to a meeting.”
    He smiled at that. Trevor finally had me, and he knew it. Crying and a few I love you’s was all it took to get old low self-esteem Sam back in his pocket.
    “Okay, hun. Thank you. I’m sorry again, and I love you so much.” He gave me one final kiss before he scurried off to the bathroom.
    Today was Sunday, usually the day that I dreaded going to work—the day I hated to coax Trevor from a hangover and beg him to help me with household tasks. I would be alone in cleaning the house today. As history would have it, Trevor would probably sleep after his shower and not wake up until the morning. His binges were always followed by extreme hunger and coma-like sleep.
    Walking through the house, I began picking up hidden, discarded bottles, which was always sobering. In the linen closet was a half-drunken bottle of scotch between the extra sheets and pillowcases. Under my bed were a dozen empty beer cans, and on my nightstand was a bottle of Riesling wine—empty, of course.
    Now wine was my addiction. In the kitchen, I decided to drink the last of the Zinfandel as Trevor took a shower. One full glass and my thoughts mingled in with the sound of the shower. As I walked around, now one hand was on the trashcan, and the other was wrapped around my now half-full glass of Zinfandel.
    I’d already started the weekly purge of bottles and cans that seemed to accumulate around the house, but I was distracted; glimpses of me in the mirror made me look like a recently-rescued kidnapping victim. My hair was disheveled, my shirt was wrinkled, but my skin glowed. Every part of me was covered in Kyle’s scent.
    I wished I could have bottled up that smell of him—how his neck smelled of cologne and some masculine musk as I bit his neck when he pounded into me. We had sex so many times last night that I lost count, and in ways that I hadn’t tried in... ever.
    I remembered the fresh smell of his bed sheets from when my face was buried in them as he slapped my ass and entered me from behind.
    All of it was like an aphrodisiac to me, and as I sipped my wine, I wished I could go back to the land of Kyle: a place where my pleasure mattered; where he coaxed me to cum. I dared not say the “L word,” but after one night with that man, I felt like I could fuck Kyle every day for the rest of my life.
    My phone ringing made me forget about