Sure, she’s no Lyla, but that’s the point.

Being with a blonde right now would be way too close. I need to be as far away as possible from anything remotely resembling Lyla.

The point of this is to get my mind off Lyla and my cock buried in someone else. And this brunette chick, who is clearly up for it and is the complete opposite of Lyla in every way, is perfect for what I need right now.

Tossing my drink back, I climb off my stool and make my way over to the brunette.

Fifteen Minutes Later—A Restroom Stall, A Bar, Downtown LA

“Fuck yeah. That’s it, sugar. Get down on your knees, and suck my cock.” I close my eyes to the feel of—shit, what’s her name? Macy, Lacy? Seriously, who gives a fuck as long as she gets me off?

I just need to get her mouth around my cock. Then, I’ll be back to the old me, and Lyla will get the fuck out of my head.

The image of Lyla standing on the sidewalk, telling me she’s in love with me is stuck in my brain.

The things I said to her. She was crying.

Fuck.

I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just panicked. She’ll never forgive me after what I said.

Whatever. Like it matters. I don’t need her to forgive me. Because Lyla and me are done.

I just did what needed to be done. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Hurting her now and ending it saves any unpleasant shit in the future.

I might feel bad now, but the second this chick sucks on my cock, it will all just disappear.

Music suddenly comes on loud in the bar. Someone must have fed the jukebox. The heavy guitar line of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day starts to hum through the wall.

I feel a tightening in my chest. An ache…like my heart is…

No.

Focusing my mind on the events occurring, I look down at the brunette fumbling with my jeans. For someone so eager to get on her knees, she’s taking her sweet time getting them open.

Impatient to get her mouth around me, I take over. Yanking the buttons open, I get my cock out.

I’m barely semi.

What the fuck?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s just because of this stupid not sleeping around that I’ve been doing. Only having sex with Lyla has just confused things. Confused my cock, but he’ll get back in the game once I get going with this chick. He’ll come to life when he gets in her mouth.

I need to be the Tom I used to be. The Tom who fucks and walks away. The Tom who doesn’t care. Because that’s the Tom I can work with.

Palming my cock, I stare down at her. “Open up, sugar, and make sure to suck me good and hard.”

She smiles up at me. Her smile is nowhere even close to being as beautiful as Lyla’s.

“I’m gonna suck you so good that you’ll never want me to stop.”

I highly doubt that.

But I roll with it. I watch her open up her mouth and slide my cock between her lips.

“Shit. Yeah, that’s it,” I hiss, palming the back of her head urging her to take more of my cock. “Take him all.”

With my cock in her mouth, she starts bobbing her head up and down, sucking me hard.

I close my eyes, trying to relax, as I focus on the feel of what she’s doing.

But nothing is happening.

What the fuck?

Needing this, feeling desperate, I grab a handful of her hair and start to pump my cock in and out of her mouth.

I just need to get hard, then I can fuck her, and everything will be back as it was.

I’ll be back to my old self.

I keep at it for a few minutes, fucking her mouth, but still nothing is happening. He’s not even grown another centimeter.

What the hell is going on?

This never happens to me. Ever.

The brunette lets my cock out of her mouth with a pop, and she starts to run her tongue all over him, making this moaning sound as she does.

It’s nothing like the sweet sounds Lyla makes when she sucks me.

It’s actually getting kind of annoying. I’m tempted to just shove my cock back in there to shut the girl up.

“I love your dick,” she murmurs, taking me in her hand, she starts jacking me off. “So fucking big. I can’t wait to have it inside me. I love your band. I have for years. I’ve seen you in concert twice. I can’t believe I’m here with you. That I have your dick in my hand, and real soon, we’re gonna be fucking.” Her eyes lift to mine. “You’ve got a condom on you, right? Because I don’t have any.”

Of course I have—

No, I don’t.

I don’t have one single condom on me because I stopped buying them when Lyla and I started going clean.

When she let me have more of her.

And last night…she let me have all of her.

My head starts to spin.

I press my hand to the wall for support. The bass pumps through the bricks, echoing the mournful tune into my body. Billie Joe Armstrong’s somber voice feeds the bleak lyrics into my mind.

I close my eyes, trying to shut it all out…but all I can see is Lyla.

The way she looked lying in my bed. My belt tied around her wrists. Washing her in the shower. Her washing me. Kissing her. How breathtaking she was down on her knees in front of me, her beautiful blues gazing back up at me. Moving inside her…having deep, slow sex. Staying inside her until she fell asleep. Holding her in my arms because I couldn’t bring myself to let her go. Unable to sleep because I didn’t want to miss a moment of the time I had left with her, knowing I would eventually have to let her go.