I clung tighter to Ashley as his fingertips skimmed over my bare clit. I bit his neck, involuntarily, as his fingers drifted down between my legs… No, they slid down.
I was sopping wet.
My pussy was aching.
My head was all swimming with lust, the music thumping through me… and I was definitely wet, throbbing and ready. Ashley smeared his fingers over my wet flesh and all I wanted to do was grind against his hand.
But I forced myself to keep still, even as my fingernails dug into his back.
“You want me to stop?” I heard him ask in my ear.
“No!”
“How drunk are you?”
“I’m okay… Oh, God, keep doing that.”
I wasn’t okay. At least if “okay” meant “sober.” I was definitely not sober.
But this definitely felt right.
“Sooo good,” I mumbled, kissing his neck. I didn’t even know if he heard me, but he must’ve felt me panting all over him. “Holy hell…” He rubbed me up and down, and I just about cried, it felt so right.
Had I ever wanted a man this bad?
Do not ride his hand! I scolded myself. You’re in a bar! Because that, anyone might see. If I started wiggling up and down in his lap… it would probably look like I was fucking him.
Oh, God… Fucking him. I so, so wanted to fuck him.
But I settled for feasting on his neck. The moment I latched my lips to his skin again and sucked, he slid into me. One finger, and just the tip. Actually, it was more of a nudge than an entry.
Like he was knocking politely on the door.
“Just the tip?” I practically sobbed in his ear. I slid a hand up the back of his neck and clutched his hair.
He chuckled or swore or something and bit my neck.
Then he thrust into me. Two fingers. And they went deep.
All. The way. In.
The rest of his fist was pressed tight against me and he swirled it around a bit, caressing me with his knuckles. And I felt the answering rush, the sweeping tide of pressure…
I could’ve come.
Ashley was inside me. In a bar.
And it felt soooooooo…. right.
“You like that?” he growled in my ear.
“Yesss,” I breathed. Then I sucked on his earlobe.
What the hell was happening? I was dizzy, and not with alcohol.
I was so swept away by him… I didn’t even care.
About any-fucking-thing.
He started thrusting his fingers into me over and over, and every time he did, I squeezed them as hard as I could. I definitely felt him groan against my neck. I slathered his neck in a tongue bath, because my own mouth could not keep still.
Jesus Christ, I wanted his dick in my mouth.
So much for professionalism.
Ashley fucked me with his fingers in a quick, forceful rhythm… and there was nothing I could do but fall apart.
I bit his neck and maybe screamed a bit—thank God the music was so loud—and clung to him as the orgasm rocketed through my body. My pussy bore down on his magic fingers and I definitely felt his dick flex against my ass as I shuddered with pleasure. My whole body spasmed with pleasure as I clung to him.
I assumed this was torture for him. But what could I do?
I was pretty sure I couldn’t jerk him off in a bar without anyone noticing. And anyway, we were just friends, right?
Right??
I lifted my head and stared at him with my mouth hanging open. My head spun as he slid his hand out of my panties. I’d come up for air, basically because I’d started hyperventilating when I came and didn’t want to suffocate myself on his gorgeous skin.
His eyes met mine, dark with lust.
He lifted his hand, the one that had just been in my panties, to his lips. He slipped his middle finger into his mouth and licked it off, slowly.
Holy God, he just did that.
Without breaking eye contact.
Then he slid that same hand around the back of my neck, and kissed me on the mouth.
He thrust his tongue into me, and I tasted myself on him. I felt the smooth steel ball of his piercing graze my tongue… And I knew.
I’d never want another man like I wanted him.
Chapter Eighteen
Danica
Maybe five minutes later—time kind of loses meaning in the wake of an orgasm like that—Ashley and I were standing near the front door of the club, calmly discussing our options.
He seemed to think that taking me back to his place so we could “fuck the living shit out of each other” (his exact words) was the best option on the table.
While I kept insisting that I simply couldn’t do that—because it was ladies night. No matter that he’d just rocked my world in that corner booth, I’d come here with my sister. I wasn’t going to ditch her at a bar.
That was my excuse.
Plus, he was still my client and I was still clinging, desperately, to my integrity.
I was also drunk and unsure of what, exactly, I was doing.
I was also more than a little freaked out that I’d just come on his hand in a bar.
This man was magical-irresistible, and I needed out of his dazzling unicorn aura so I could think straight and regain control of my drunken hormones.
After debating it for what felt like a really long time, he finally gave up.
He wanted to leave. I wanted to stay.
Deadlock.
“All I’m saying is I don’t think I can spend another minute with you right now if you’re not gonna touch my dick.” He said that to me, in his crazy-forward way, looking kind of… pained. All dark and hot and immovable, as he stood in front of me with his hands crammed into the pockets of his jeans, probably to hide his hard-on from everyone around us.
“And I would love to do that,” I told him, “but I can’t. I’m sorry if I got carried away. I, um, didn’t expect you to put your hand up my dress.”
Despite the obvious frustration in his eyes, he smirked at me. “I didn’t either. Until I saw you in it.” Then his eyes burned down on my body again, and I squirmed.
I really needed to back away, or I was seriously gonna ride him home.
Then he looked in my eyes. “I just think we could try,” he said, kind of awkwardly. He seemed frazzled, actually, like he didn’t quite know what to do with a woman who came on his hand and then told him no.
“I’m still not sure,” I said. “You’re my client…”
“I won’t be your client much longer. When you’re done with my place, it won’t matter.”
“I know…” I said, stalling. But then, because he was so fucking beautiful and his blue eyes were demanding it of me, I caved and admitted the rest of it. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you and my sister.”
He stared at me for a moment. Then he said, “There is no me and your sister.”
“But there was,” I said.
“Yeah, for maybe three hours, four years ago. I was so drunk when I met her, I couldn’t even tell the difference between the two of you when I met you. But there is a difference. A big fucking difference.”
Well, I liked that. But still.
I looked him over. He was so sexy… And so tense.
“Are you gonna go pick up someone else?” I blurted out. Totally not the coolest thing to ask, when I was essentially rejecting him. Without meaning to.
But I asked anyway.
He shook his head at me a little. Then he gripped my chin gently with his thumb and forefinger and kissed me… a kiss that was so soft and so heated, my toes curled and my knees just about gave out. I put my hand on his chest to steady myself.
“No,” he said. “I like you, Danica.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything at all. I was afraid of saying too much.
I like you, too. I like you a lot.
When he drew away, I let him go. He spun his cap back around and pulled it low over his eyes. His neck was a mess of my l
ipstick and what was probably gonna be a hickey or five.
Then he kind of sighed and checked his phone.
As it turned out, Xander had already left, with Nikki, so he decided to grab a cab home. I told him again that he could stay and hang out, but he seemed too frustrated.
Because of me.
He gave me a good night kiss on the cheek, and I felt like a horrible person. I felt like I’d used him to get off and was now brushing him off. But it wasn’t like I’d asked him to do what he did. It was totally his idea.
I mean, yes, maybe my pussy had encouraged him with all the wetness and the throbbing… but that wasn’t exactly my fault. It was involuntary—like the hard-on he’d practically speared me with.
“You sure you don’t wanna come with me?” he asked me.
Nope. Not one little bit.
“Yes,” I said.
“Call me if you change your mind,” he said in a husky voice. “I might be up.”
“Okay,” I said cheerily. I might as well have just shoved him out the door.
He shook his head at me again. Then I watched him turn and walk out the door with Haz.
Oh God, his butt.
When I turned to go find my sister, she was right there. Watching Ashley leave the bar.
I walked over to her. “What’s up?” I asked brightly, hoping I wasn’t exuding post-orgasmic guilt.
“Where’s he going?” Daniella raked her gaze over me, head-to-toe. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Where’s he going?” she repeated.
“Home, I think.”
“And you’re not going with him?”
“Uh, obviously not,” I said, gesturing down at my body, which was still in the bar.
“Why not?”
“It’s ladies night, Dani. For some of us, that actually means spending time with the ladies.”
With that, I turned and headed for the ladies’ room. Unfortunately, my sister followed. For such a waif, she could be really fucking loud. Especially with a vodka soda in hand.
“Are you really this much of an idiot with men?” she asked me as I locked myself into a cubicle. It was the only way to get away from her. Sort of. “Or are you just pretending?” she demanded, knocking loudly on the door. “Because I don’t understand how someone who shares my DNA could be this dumb.”
I ignored her as I peed and cleaned up. I’d definitely never gotten that wet for a guy before. And I was still feeling kinda wobbly from the Earth-shattering orgasm and all the shooters.
I was pretty much the definition of a hot mess right now.
And my sister was yelling at me.
“You shut him down?” she hollered, right through the door. There was loud music playing in the washroom, and other girls were talking, but there was no getting away from my sister.
“I didn’t shut him down!” I hissed back.
“You sent him home, alone, without any pussy. What would you call it?”
I came out of the stall and gave her a Shut-your-face look. “Seriously, Dani. No one wants to hear it.”
“I do,” said some random girl at the sinks, and her friend laughed.
I put my head down and washed my hands.
Daniella loomed over me. “He’s a gorgeous rock star. You think he’s gonna ask you twice?”
“Maybe. If he really wants me.”
“Oh, get over yourself. You’re making him chase you? Why? He already hired you to redecorate his place. He sat through brunch with me. He stalked you here tonight. What more do you need?”
I dried my hands, ignoring her, then took a look at my face. I looked drunk, and like I’d just had my world rocked. But at least my makeup wasn’t smeared. I smoothed my hair and put on some more lipstick. I’d kissed it all off on Ashley’s neck.
“You make it too hard for him, he’s gonna give up,” my sister pressed. Then she plucked the lipstick from my hand and started putting it on her lips.
“Why do you care?” I asked her.
“Are you serious right now?”
“What is up your butt tonight?”
“Why would you blow him off?”
We glared at each other in the mirror. God, we both looked so drunk. Fortunately, so did every other girl in the room. Half of whom were listening to this right now.
I took a deep breath. “I told you, he’s my client—”
“Bullshit! For like another few days. What else have you got?”
“You, for one.”
“Me? What the hell does this have to do with me? And do not say Alaska.”
“Why not? You know we have a rule about men.”
“About ex-boyfriends. Ashley Player was never my boyfriend.”
“Would you shut up?” Did she really have to drop his name, right now? Who knew if any of these girls knew him or something?
“You girls are better than a soap opera,” the girl next to us said. “I mean that as a compliment.”
“Yeah,” Dani said, grabbing my arm. “Her boyfriend came back from the dead and I fucked him. Tune in next week for the rest.” Then she yanked me into the hall outside the washroom, where we continued our stupid drunken squabble.
“Can you keep your voice down?” I yanked out of her grasp. “And don’t say his name. He’s famous. Have some tact.”
“Me? I saw him hand-screwing you like half an hour ago, right in the bar.”
Oh, God. She saw that?
“He asked you to marry him,” I hissed.
Yep. We were really doing this.
Too. Many. Shooters.
“He didn’t even know me,” she hissed back.
“So you admit that he proposed to you.”
“Yeah,” she said, “he said something about marrying me. It was an offhand remark. Drunk talk. It’s not like he got down on one knee and whipped out a ring. We’d just met. The only thing he had to go on was the way I looked, and you look just like I do.”
“Exactly!” I shouted. “So how do you know he actually likes me?”
My sister drew back, and I knew that look. She was pissed at me. Like pissed.
Some girls walking by snickered at the impending disaster of a scene we were making.
That’s right, people. There’s a drunk-ass captain on this ship. And we’re headed straight for an iceberg.
“You always do this,” Dani said. “You always make some stupid excuse not to go after the ones you really want because you think they like me first.”
“Because they always do like you first!”
“If this is about Jackson, I’m gonna strangle you.”
Oooh, shit. We’d just hit the iceberg.
“It’s not about Jackson,” I said.
“It’s totally about Jax and the fact that you could never get over that he liked me first.”
And now the ship was sinking.
“Yes, he liked you first,” I said. “And I fucked up and kissed him when I was drunk, and you never let me forget it.” We’re going down, folks. Save yourselves… “So excuse me if I’m uber-cautious when it comes to guys who like us both.”
“Ashley Player doesn’t like me!” she shouted.
“Stop shouting his goddamn name!”
“Danica, I could be furniture the way he looks at me. Like, useless old office furniture in the back alley. He like, lights up whenever you look at him.”
“Please.”
“I saw you in his lap with his hand up your skirt. Are you trying to tell me he was hand-raping you? Should I call the cops?”
“Ugh! Just stop.”
“Why are you trying to bullshit me that you aren’t into him?” she demanded.
“I’m into him, okay? That doesn’t mean I’m just instantaneously leaping into bed with him. And where were you?” I demanded, the guilt eating me up. “You’re supposed to be my winglady. You up and disappeared and left me with Ashley and Carter.”
Daniella slugged back the rest of her drink and stared me down. “You know what…
I was pissed at you. But I wasn’t pissed at you because you kissed Jax. I was pissed at you because he kissed you, and he liked you. He liked me first, but he liked you best.”
And there it was.
We were deep, deep underwater now, free-falling into the abyss.
“He did not,” I said.
“You knew he liked you best and you still gave him up because you thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Because it was what I was supposed to do,” I said. “Because you were in love with him!”
We’ve hit bottom, people. We are officially a shipwreck.
Dani glared at me. Then she turned and walked away.
I sighed and went after her, ignoring the looky-loos who’d stopped to stare. She headed outside, and I found her bumming a joint off some college boys on the sidewalk. I hooked my arm through hers and dragged her away, ignoring their hormone fueled protests.
“Holy shit, I think they’re twins…” one of them moaned.
Yeah. If I had a quarter for every time I heard those words out of some horny dude’s mouth…
I stood my sister against the building, back out of the way of the crowds on the sidewalk. Way too many drunk people. I needed to go home and just sleep this shit off.
But I just stood there and took the joint Daniella offered. I took a little puff and handed it back to her.
“I’ll get us a cab,” I said.
She said nothing.
And I didn’t move.
I knew it was a sore spot, and if we hadn’t been wasted, I never would’ve let her get into a fight with me about Jackson.
My twin sister was all untouchable on the outside. Confident and even cold. She never let anyone slow her down.
But I knew her heart. And Jackson Blake, once upon a time, had ripped it right in two.
The fact that I’d had a part to play in that, however small, would never be right with me.
I glanced half-heartedly up the street, watching for a cab. There were a few other groups of people teetering on the curb, obviously looking to flag one down. It was probably gonna take a while.
Maybe I should’ve just gone home with Ashley.
I sighed.
“You think I want you to be an unhappy spinster?” my sister accused quietly. I looked over at her. “You think that’s what I want for you? To be miserable and alone and collecting cats because you let all the guys who made your heart throb pass you by, because you were all worried it might hurt my feelings that they liked you instead of me? You think I want that for you? Really?”
Hot Mess: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #1) Page 24
