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What I could really use is a cigarette.
It’s so dark in the VIP section that we have a hard time finding our corner, stumbling up a step or two to where Sherrie and Georgia are on their feet, their scantily clad bodies gyrating against each other to the heavy beat.
“I don’t know which one I like more,” Connor muses, watching.
They’re all the same, I want to say, but I hold my tongue.
“What do you say we swap halfway through?”
“What doIsay?” I chuckle through a sip. “What dotheysay about it?” Tasha’s rage would go nuclear if my gaze so much as inadvertently skimmed one of her girlfriends. I made an offhanded swinging joke once, and she didn’t talk to me for almost a week.
“Oh, they’re down. Sherrie already said as much.”
“Damn.” This city really is something, or maybe this is what single life is like. I’m not against it, but neither of them is doing it for me. “Why don’t you take both, and I’ll take our server instead.”
His brow arches knowingly. “The paint, right? You wanna leave fingerprints.”
“Allover her.”
Sherrie notices that we’ve returned and waves at the row of shot glasses on the table. “Look what our waitress brought over to apologize for taking so long!”
They’re all empty.
I lift one to sniff it.
“Tequila!” They both shout, lifting their arms over their heads.
Connor and I share a glance—one that says neither of us is getting laid tonight, unless it happens soon.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” He nods to my glass. “Drink up.”
Georgia’s hips sway as she rounds the table. Still dancing, she runs her hands from my stomach all the way to my chest, her fingertips curling around the collar of my shirt. “You took too long.”
Not more than ten minutes, but in drunk-girl time, I guess that’s forever. “You should have water.”
“Hmm …” She’s so close, all I can smell is her lotus flower perfume. “I don’t want water. Do you know what I do want?”
I chuckle. “I think I can guess.”
She steps in close enough to grind against me. Her eyes sparkle. “It looks like someone’s excited to see me.”
Or just excited, thanks to Becca.
My hands are occupied so I can’t do much when Georgia’s fingers slide over the hard ridge in my pants, rubbing back and forth.
“You’re a big boy,” she purrs into my ear, and my dick jumps, like a lap dog responding to praise. With a giggle, she draws my zipper down and slips her hand inside to grip me, the warmth of her palm through the cotton of my briefs bringing a soft groan to my lips. I glance over to see Sherrie push Connor back into the lounge chair and climb onto his lap,her short skirt riding up to show the black lace of her G-string. All around us, people are in their own worlds, laughing, dancing, semicovertly sniffing lines of coke off side tables. I wonder if it’s this place or Miami in general, but no one seems to care who’s watching.
And truthfully, I don’t care much either. I suck back half my drink, knowing I’m going to have to finish Georgia’s too. And then we’re gonna have to get out of here because I need those red lips around my cock.
She must be able to read my mind because I feel the sharp tug of my belt buckle being unfastened. Fuck … is she actually going to?—
Cool fingers graze against my skin as she peels my briefs down and pulls my dick right out into the open.
Jesus. At least my back is to the crowd.
I’m too stunned to speak as she seats herself on the chair in front of me. Giving me a lascivious smile, she leans forward and runs her tongue along my full length, nearly buckling my knees.
I glance over to see if Connor knows what’s going on. But he’s otherwise occupied, his hands gripping Sherrie’s ass as she straddles his lap, riding him so hard there’s no way he’s not going to come in his pants.