Page 8 of Reckless Hearts

“Lick. Shoot. Suck,” I repeat, my voice shaking slightly.

Marcus sprinkles some salt on his forearm. His tongue darts out from his lips, and I’m fairly sure I set a world record for how fast someone’s cock can get hard.

“Lick,” he says.

“Lick,” I echo like some brainwashed minion, my mind not processing much beyond Marcus’s mouth.

“Shoot.” He picks up his shot glass full of tequila. He slams it back, then quickly grabs a lime slice and sucks on it.

He pulls his hand away from his mouth to reveal his smile in the shape of a lime wedge.

“Suck,” he finishes, his voice slightly gravelly as he takes the lime out of his mouth.

I swallow. Hard. “Right.”

“It’s simple enough.” His dark eyes don’t leave mine. “Although, maybe we should rename the second step ‘swallow,’ don’t you think?”

Holy Batman.

My breath leaves my lungs. How on earth did I get to this point where I’m alone with Marcus Johnson and he’s saying suggestive things to me?

He winks at me. “You ready for me to take your tequila virginity?”

Okay, there is no way I can respond to that without gargling my own tongue. Instead, I wordlessly stick out my bare arm.

It tickles as Marcus sprinkles salt on my forearm. I stare at the trail of white crystals as Marcus pours a shot for me and cuts a slice of lime.

“Here’s your shot and lime ready to go.”

I lean over hesitantly to lick the salt. It’s scratchy on my tongue, and I leave a wet streak on my arm.

Then I grab the shot and scull it back. The tequila burns my throat, but I concentrate on shoving the lime piece into my mouth. Tartness floods my tastebuds.

“Well done.” Marcus looks at me proudly, like I’ve just solved a differential equation to calculate the coordinates to send a satellite into orbit. “You’re a natural.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, and my skin tingles at his touch.

I’m a natural at math and science, but not much else. I’ll happily add tequila shots to the list though. Especially if it means Marcus looks at me like that again.

We do another shot each. The tequila sears its way down my throat and settles like fire in my stomach. I’ve never been into spirits. I’m normally more of a one-and-a-half beers guy.

The alcohol has an instant effect on me, making my head woozy.

After finishing my second shot, I look up to see Marcus watching me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“The great thing about tequila is you can get inventive about where you lick and what you suck,” he says in a sultry voice.

“What do you mean?” I stammer.

“I mean, we get to decide where to do the licking and the sucking. For example…” He picks up the salt and lazily steps toward me, holding up the container of salt.

He arches an eyebrow. “This okay?”

I manage to nod, my pulse beating overtime. I have no idea what he’s got planned, but whatever Marcus does when he’s looking at me with glittering eyes is okay with me.

He sprinkles some salt on my neck where the flesh is exposed, finishing at the top of my collarbone.

Oh holy hell. He isn’t about to do what I think he is, is he?

“Now I lick it off,” he says huskily.