He’s hot; dark, chestnut brown hair that hangs in shaggy tendrils over his right eye. Sharp, angular cheekbones, flared nostrils, and sex-fueled bottomless eyes. His body is nothing to balk at, either. He’s fit; muscular, broad shoulders that lead down to a hard, deliciously sculpted chest. Smooth stomach I know has to be as hard as the rest of him, and it leads down to a tapered waist and long, toned legs. His suit, just like the rest of the men in here, fits him to perfection.
Now, this is a fucking man that knows what he wants. Even from here, I can see he knows how to wield his body, making every woman around him submit at his feet. There’s a power radiating off him that makes me wet and flush with need, a darkness that nearly has me swaying in my heels.
I stand, silently, never once taking my eyes from him. There’s something so sensual about the act, but nasty at the same time, because it’s out in the open instead of behind closed doors. It makes you want things; makes you want to do anything to achieve that type of bliss.
All too soon, his face screws up in even more pleasure. His head falls back on his shoulders, hands tightening in her hair. He snaps his hips up, thrusting his hard cock into her throat. The moment his mouth falls open in completion, his body shuddering from release, I snap out of my trance and book it. My entire body buzzes with sexual tension, and it will not do me a bit of good to watch someone get theirs, I need to get mine, too. The need to come has been strangely silent the last few days, but now that I saw that, it’s back with a blistering vengeance of heat and lust.
Stepping up to the bar, I wave down the delicious bartender and order a Cosmopolitan. Normally, you wouldn’t see me with this type of drink, I’m a beer or whiskey kind of girl. However, I find men seem more acclimated to approach a woman if she seems demurer, more innocent.
“Can I see some ID lady?” Mr. Bartender says with a secretive smile.
I fight the grin that wants to form when I see him checking me out, his eyes dipping down to my exposed cleavage. Something seems oddly familiar about him, but I know for a fact it’s not because I’ve fucked him before. He’s fresh meat, just how I like them.
“Eyes up here, partner,” I retort jokingly, then pass my ID to him.
“Jessalyn Savoy. Twenty-three. Silver Creek.” His brows furrow, then like a lightning bolt streaking across the sky, a sense of recognition blazes in his eyes.
Smiling, he taps my card against the bar. “I know a few Savoy’s from down that way. Wouldn’t be one of them, would you?”
I know he’s not second guessing my identification, because I had the best hacker in school get that for me in exchange for a blow job last year. It is foolproof. So, whoever this guy is, he must actually know my family. This can either go badly or I can use this to my advantage. Hopefully, he likes my family, because if not, then they will escort me out of here before having time to bag one of these hot-as-fuck businessmen.
“Depends,” I say, sidling closer. Propping my arms on the edge of the bar, I make sure my cleavage pushes together for maximum advantage. “You going to rat me out or get my drink?”
I watch, mesmerized, as he drags his eyes back to my chest. His pink tongue darts out, licking along the bottom lip, before he takes it into his mouth. “Depends.”
“On what?” I ask, smiling seductively.
He seems to think about it for a moment, his gaze jerking down both sides of the bar before they come back to me. “I get off at eleven. Are you going to be around then?”
Since it’s almost ten, I’d say that is a safe assumption. I don’t plan on leaving this place until I get my fix, and this gorgeous hunk of male in front of me—mmm, I’m sure he’d be well worth the wait.
“I planned on it,” I whisper enticingly as he sets off to make my drink.
“Meet me out back at eleven-fifteen; past the loading dock; near the back entrance.” He meets my eyes expectantly, sliding the drink across the bar with enough strength that it stops in front of me. “Ditch the panties if you’re wearing any, because you won’t need them.”
Tossing a wink his way, he smiles before setting off to attend another customer. My eyes track his every movement. His actions are so sure, strong. This guy definitely knows what he’s doing, and my body practically hums in anticipation for tonight.
After sliding a draft across the bar, he catches me looking at him. I’m not the type of girl to look away from her target, so I continue to stare, raking my eyes up and down his body in obvious approval. Smirking, he shoots a wink my way before turning to take another order.
He’s even better looking than the suit from earlier. He has sandy-blond hair trimmed neatly at the sides and left a little longer at top. Tattoos sprawl across the expanse of his chest. Only a thin black wife beater hides a portion from view. He has a pair of military grade dog tags hanging lazily around his neck. Muscles bulge as he works the draft station, a few spattering of veins running along the bottom of his lightly tanned arms.
Then, there’s his body. Hard as stone—as if a sculptor made him from a piece of granite. Broad chest, strong, flat stomach with just the ridges of his abs barely visible through his shirt. Long, strong legs encased in dark washed jeans, and combat boots resting on his feet.
He is divine.
Licking my lips, I sip on my drink. I think of all the things his strong body can do to mine. Possibly lift me up in his arms by the swell of my ass. Maybe, just maybe, he can hold me against the wall as he feasts on my aching pussy. Damn, just the thoughts running through my mind cause a shiver to tingle up my spine.
“Is this seat taken?” asks a deep-timbered voice.
Breaking my gaze with Mr. Bartender, I turn with a smile, noticing it’s the suit sidling up next to me. His eyes feast on the vision in front of him, a spark of desire flitting through his gaze.
“Not at all,” I say, gesturing.
Taking a seat, he holds up a finger toward Mr. Bartender. I sit in silence, waiting, and when Mr. Bartender comes to deliver the suits drink, he slides it across the bar toward him. “Here you go, Cole.”
Hmm, Cole, is it? Fitting name. It’s hard, yet soft. Innocent, yet downright filthy. If I didn’t have a date with Mr. Bartender, I’d definitely try to get in this guy’s pants. At least I know he’s well-endowed.
Turning toward me, Mr. Bartender smirks, saying, “Name’s Blake. See you later.”
God, Blake is an even better name. “Sure thing,” I reply with a wink.
The action doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Not like I was trying to hide it to begin with, but I’m pleasantly surprised Cole caught onto it so fast.
“Meeting Blake later, huh?” I nod, taking a sip of my Cosmo. “Be careful, he tends to get a little rough.”
Is he speaking from experience? “Hm, how so?”
Cole laughs. “I’ve known of a few girls not being able to walk when they get through with him.”
Perfect. “Such a shame. It appears they don’t know how to take a healthy session of cock.”
He laughs. “Oh, they do, darling. Trust me.”
I don’t ask him what he means by that, because there’s no reason to. Not when my first visual of the night was him getting his cock sucked by a stripper. Maybe he just chooses the girls that like it soft and easy? Because I’ll tell you now, there’s a time and place for that stuff, but when you’re as horny as I am, the only thing you want is your pussy fucked until you orgasm all over the guy pounding you. I couldn’t care less if I walk after Blake gets through with me, as long as my pussy is sufficiently used, I’ll be flying on cloud nine.
For a little while, we sit in comfortable silence. His eyes stray toward the stage behind us, more than likely feasting on the current dancer baring it all.
Why men want a woman like that, I do not understand. Not that there is anything wrong with being a stripper, because there’s not. But I find a little mystery is well worth it. You wouldn’t want to know what you’re getting for Christmas before you rip off the wrapping paper yourself, would you? In
my mind, that’s the same thing.
A man will be twice as into it with a woman if they are the one taking it all off.
During a particularly crude rendition of YMCA—yes, the one and only—my clutch buzzes in my hands. Unzipping it carefully, I take my phone out and press the unlock button.
A smile threatens to rise, but then confusion comes out to play, too.
Karma: You little slut! How could you go without me?
Me: I’m at home. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I giggle to myself, preparing to lock the screen again when a picture comes through. My eyes widen, heart leaping into my throat.
Karma: Want to lie to me again?
Me: How did you get that?
She doesn’t reply for several minutes. I wait, anxiety ramping up inside me, as nothing more than three dots disappear and reappear, like she’s replying but doesn’t quite know what to say. I sit and wait, but nothing ever comes through. It’s not until I glance toward the top corner of my phone that I freak out, noting I have to be behind the club in six minutes.
Pushing Karma and that picture to the side, I grab my clutch and get up from my perch at the bar. I’m thirty mind-blowing minutes, possibly an hour, away from being home and fully sated. She can wait for me to reply when I get there. With two Cosmo’s in my system, I’m ready to get laid. I’m nearly weeping for it.
Saying a half-ass goodbye to Cole, I make my way through the club. My heart pumps faster inside my chest, and my deep, calculating breaths quickly turn into breathy pants.
After stepping into the bathroom and removing my panties, I shove them in my clutch and push through the door to make my way toward the back entrance. With a quick glance at my phone, I see it’s three minutes, and my blood sizzles in my veins from excitement. It’s been so long since I’ve had a release not by my hand, and I’m so close to the prize I can practically taste it. The taste is sweet, bitches. Damn.
Pushing through the back door, I carefully make my way down to the rear loading entrance. The first thing I notice is we’re completely alone. The second thing I notice is Blake leaned against the wall with an air of aloofness, puffing on the end of a cigarette. When he spies me, he smiles behind a cloud of smoke. Then, he takes another drag, causing his eyes to light up in the darkness.
Flicking it away, he beckons me toward him with one finger. “Come here, sexy.”
I don’t think, I just react. I close the distance between us, dropping my clutch, phone and all on the ground. A hunger overtakes me, and I reach for the back of his neck, jerking his face down to mine before another word can be spoken. Our mouths clash together in need; lips parting so our tongues can start their sensual dance with one another.
Groaning, I press my body against his. My mind blurs as I feel his hard sternum drag against my breasts. Slickness coats my inner thighs from my lack of panties when I feel his hard cock pushing against my stomach. Blake breaks our heated kiss, his fingers running through my short locks, so he can tilt my head to the side. A sigh falls from between my swollen lips as he nips and kisses along the side of my neck, paying particular attention to the sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Mm, I need more,” I gasp out, then squeal in surprise when his hands close around my upper thighs and he hoists me into the air.
Turning around, he presses my back against the wall. Grunts fall from my lips from the strength of hitting the brick, then having him press against me. But instead of dousing my flames, it only causes them to ramp higher. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I urge him closer and gyrate against his clothed erection. It pulls a groan from deep inside his chest, forcing his hips to thrust back against me.
“You want me to fuck that tight pussy, baby?” he asks, grinding into me.
“Yes,” I reply breathlessly, my head leaning forward so I can take his lips once more.
We grunt and moan into each other, our hips undulating until it just isn’t enough. We both need more; we need everything.
Holding me with one hand, he raises my dress up past my hips, then reaches down for his belt and button. There will be no need for foreplay; no need to work me up since I’m so wet, I can feel it running down the crack of my ass. All I want is a thick, long cock inside me, tempering the blazing lust I’ve been battling for weeks.
Within moments, he has his pants around his ankles and a condom on his dick. In my sexual haze, I didn’t even notice him putting on one, but I’m fucking glad that one of us remembered. He breaks away from the kiss, pressing his lips against my collarbone, the top swell of my breasts, and my throat. I feel him at my entrance, my body buzzing so hard I see stars behind my closed eyelids.
Then, I feel one torturous inch of him slide inside. A feral groan leaves him, and I turn into nothing more than a whimpering mess. Then, another, our matching pants filtering into the cooling night air.
Oh, God, please. I tighten my legs more, hoping he gets the drift and slams into me. My pussy is clenching like a vice around the head of his dick, convulsing with the need to feel more. But then, I feel nothing—just the harsh, unforgiving concrete scratch my backside as I fall out of his arms and onto the ground. My head bangs back into the brick, and I can’t help the cry of pain I release. That freaking hurt. Felt like someone pelting me in the back of the head with a baseball bat. The back-parking lot dances in my vision, but even I can see what’s going on, and my confusion quickly turns into anger.
Yes, there will be at least one set of balls ripped off tonight.
I growl, then yell out into the night air, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”
CHAPTER 7
This cannot be happening right now! Not when I was so freaking close to getting what I wanted.
“What the fuck?!” Blake roars out.
“So, you think it’s okay to touch a seventeen-year-old?!” Quinn hisses, and I cringe when I see him throw a large fist into Blake’s face.
“Dude, she came onto me.” I roll my eyes when I come to a stand, then sway as a bout of dizziness plagues me.
“We don’t doubt that.” Callum comes into view then, his hard eyes glaring into Blake’s. “Josh, you’re almost twenty-four years old motherfucker. You know her family; you fucking know her. Shitfire!”
I will kill them. Every one of them, even though two of the elites aren’t even here.
“You were her babysitter, man!” I will rip … Say what? There’s no way I heard that right.
My wide eyes shoot to Blake, seeing a guilty expression twisting his features. Oh, God! No. This is not Joshua Thompson. There’s no way in Hell. Trust me, I’d remember someone that looked like him if he were at my house all the time. Especially if it was every Friday and Saturday night for an entire year. Even with me being as young as I was, it wasn’t that long ago.
“H-He said his name was Blake,” I whisper, trying to piece together how my Josh is the same guy standing in front of me. I haven’t seen him since I was eleven. How can six years change someone so much where they’re almost unrecognizable?
“His name is Joshua Blake Thompson, little mouse.” My eyes flick up to Callum, seeing the fury in his tense shoulders and stiff posture.
Josh is the guy that used to kiss away my nightmares. He used to stay with me until I fell asleep, running his fingers through my hair. He’d let me stay up past my bedtime and eat junk food, watch trashy (age appropriate) movies, and prank call girls on his phone.
He … Josh was like a brother to me.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, the pain from my head long since forgotten. Now, it’s a stitch in my heart, and the longer I sit here and look at him, the more it hurts.
From the very beginning, he knew who I was. There were no second guesses; no nothing. He played me like a fool just so he could get his rocks off. I shouldn’t feel hurt, because the only thing I was using him for was sex, too. But I can’t help it, Josh and I were close before he moved away.
“H-How could you?” I whisper, finding enough s
trength in my legs to push away from the wall. “You were like family, Josh!”
His eyes snap to mine. “I’ve had a crush on you ever since you were eleven, Jess. Tell me, if you liked me and I started flirting with you, would you turn me down? Shit no, you’d take any piece of scrap given.”
“You didn’t have to lie about it. I’ve never known you as Blake, because it’s always been Josh to me.” Now that I look closer and my head isn’t swimming with arousal, I can see the resemblance to the Josh I knew six years ago. It’s there in the barely upturned nose, timid hazel eyes, and strong, jutting chin.
He sighs regretfully. “I honestly thought you’d recognize me, babe. I’m actually kind of hurt it took Lockridge and his goon for you to put two and two together.”
I’m actually kind of surprised it took them, too. I guess that’s what happens when you go so long without something you need, because your rational mind has to play catch up. I can’t help myself when a tiny smile peeks through. This may be a mess of epic proportions, but at least they stopped it before it got any further.
Oh, God … now I owe them one. Jesus fuck. Ugh.
“Were you ever going to tell me, or just fuck me and call it a night?“
“I was going to tell you, I swear. It’s just—you jumped me, then things got all crazy.“
I will take responsibility for that one. “Well, I can’t refute that.”
He chuckles softly as I say, “You have grown since I last saw you.”
“More ways than one. Took off to the military when I stopped babysitting you; just unlisted a few weeks ago.”
So, that’s how he got to be so buff. The Josh I remember was a scraggly, little, almost eighteen-year-old with more pimples than smooth face. He had glasses, and hair down to his shoulders. He wasn’t this hunk of a guy standing in front of me.
He was always so nice to me, too. Besides tonight, I’d bet my left tit—since it’s the smaller of the two—that he’s still that way. I just can’t believe I was turned on by someone I considered a close friend slash brother.
Tease Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 2) Page 5
