by M. N. Forgy
“Here, take another!” She hands me another shot from the table. A big, burly girl with thick, curly hair fills the small glasses, her head bobbing to the music.
“You sure?” I take the glass, my face etched with unease. You’d think by now they’d have a shot that doesn’t taste like fuel.
“Yes, you need it!”
Lifting the glass to my mouth, I pinch my nose and down it. Grabbing the Sprite, I can’t get the lemony liquid down fast enough to chase the burn away.
“Damn, it doesn’t taste any better the second time,” I groan, smacking my lips together.
“Should we get more?” She waggles her brows, and I do this choppy thing with my hands telling her no more. I don’t drink hard stuff that often, so I know I’m a lightweight and don’t want to get too plastered.
“If I do one more shot, I’ll puke.”
Alessa Cara's “Here” starts playing from the speakers in the wall, and a bunch of drunk girls start screaming with excitement as they run to the main living room. A tall, dark female in black shorts starts dancing on the coffee table. That's when I notice she has on no top, her dark nipples are pierced and out for all to see.
“Oh, wow,” I mutter, eyes wide.
“I know, I can’t stop looking at her rack,” Alessandra mutters next to me. I've lived in Vegas all my life, but I’ve never seen as many boobs at one time as I have the last fifteen minutes.
“I’m going to, uh...”
“Need another drink?” Alessandra asks, handing me another shot, her eyes never leaving the topless girl dancing like nobody is watching.
“Yeah.” I grab the shot and toss it back. My neck muscles tense and my eyes squeeze shut as it burns a trail of excitement down my throat.
“I feel over-dressed.” I chuckle.
Alessandra laughs. “Keep drinking and that could change.”
My eyes widen at her statement. “What?”
But she just ignores me, as she finds humor in my reaction.
We step away from the kitchen and head down into the living room. Alessandra starts to sway her hips to the music, picking up the beat. Looking around, insecurities run down my spine. I don’t dance in public, never have. I only dance at home, in the shower or in front of the mirror on the back of my door.
“Fun. Just have fun,” I whisper to myself. Looking down at the stained carpet, cigarette butts have burned holes into it. I close my eyes. Releasing a slow breath, my body gradually starts to relax from the drinks. I start to nod with the music, my hands sliding up and down my sides. My knees bend and before I know it… I'm dancing. Dancing like I dance at home in front of the mirror. I don’t think about anyone watching me, or if I look like a fool. I just don’t fucking care for the first time in, well, forever. My body sways with the rhythm, my tension gone with the tune.
“I’m going to get us another drink!” Alessandra hollers. I tangle my hands in my hair and lose myself to the sexy bass as I watch her disappear into the crowd.
“The Hills” by The Weekend starts and I mouth the words, my knees twisting and ass swirling to the beat. My head falls back, and that feeling that nobody was watching me is instantly gone, because my eyes lock with Zeek’s from the balcony encasing the stairs. His eyes narrow and devour my every movement.
“Drinks. I got drinks!” Alessandra cheers, stepping up beside me. My eyes never leave Zeek’s He’s leaning over the balcony, watching me hungrily, his body hunched over, arms hanging over the railing. He moves the beer that was dangling from his fingertips, bringing it to his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rolling my lips between my teeth nervously. After the way I put him in his place the other night, I wonder if he’ll try and put me in mine. That and the fact I didn’t bring my gun. Dammit!
“What? What are you staring at?” Alessandra follows my line of sight. “Is that?”
“Yes, it is,” I mumble.
“Interesting.” I finally pull my eyes from his and find Alessandra grinning from ear to ear, two shot glasses in her hands.
“Did you know they would be here?” I pin Alessandra with a death glare.
“No, Bunky never said the Outlaws would be here. He said it was just a party.” She shrugs, handing me another shot.
My heart accelerates, my hand gripping the cool glass. Looking back up, Zeek is gone.
“Hey there!” an unfamiliar male voice sounds. My eyes dart toward Alessandra, finding some guy grabbing her by the hips. He has a man bun and looks rugged. She turns and smiles at me bright-eyed, like she just won the lottery or something. He’s not bad-looking, I guess. I give a smirk and down my shot. Lifting it to her in cheers, I walk away, giving her space to do her thing.
I push and duck my way through the crowd, making my way past the kitchen to find a sliding glass door and a patio lined in stone. I could use some fresh air. Stepping out, a bonfire sits a ways from the house with a bunch of guys standing around it. Walking further onto the patio, I notice the guys are Sin City Outlaws and some other men who look to be like some country boys. One's even wearing a cowboy hat.
Spotting a lawn chair, I sit and put the shot on the table. A bunch of empty beer bottles and ashtrays litter it already.
“You don’t look like you’re from around here.” I jump where I sit, clutching my chest.
Sitting at the other end of the table, a girl emerges from the shadows. She has long, dark hair, her face round and flawless.
“Hi, I’m Dep—” I stop myself, not wanting to alert the crowd I’m a deputy. “I’m Jillian.” The girl purses her lips and eyes me suspiciously. I’ve either offended her, or she has resting bitch face down perfectly.
“You look familiar.” Her eyes sweep up and down my body, and I inhale a shaky breath, nervous she is on to me.
“Fuck you!” is shouted from the area near the bonfire, and the girl I was talking to stands quickly, her body tense and face in panic.
I stand, my body racing with sudden adrenaline.
She throws her chair back and runs toward the fire. A chill races up my spine, the energy in the air taking a sudden turn. Taking a few steps toward the action, I stop in my tracks. One of the cowboys just pulled out a gun, and a loud bang rings out. Before my eyes, the Outlaws and the country boys start shooting at each other. Out of instinct, I grab at my hip, finding no weapon. Shit! Stupid purse.
“Zeek!” the girl screams, her hands in her hair. I duck behind a chair, not sure if I should interfere or run.
A couple of the Outlaws push Zeek behind them, protecting him. The crowd inside starts screaming, catching my attention. Alessandra. I turn and find her running with the guy she was just dancing with moments ago toward the front door.
Another shot fires, catching my attention.
“Zeek!” the girl screams again, her voice in pure panic. He looks toward her, his eyes catching mine. He tucks his gun in his waist band and starts to jog toward us, passing the girl who's grabbing at his shirt frantically.
“What the fuck, Zeek?!” she cries, as he clearly ignores her and heads toward me. Oh, shit! Fear strikes me and I turn to run inside, finding the glass door suddenly locked. Someone from the inside shut and locked it.
Hands grab at my hips as I ball mine into fists. Screaming, I turn and throw a punch, but I miss and my world is tossed upside-down. Pushing myself up on a strong back covered in a leather cut reading 'Sin City Outlaws,' I look over my shoulder, finding Zeek carrying me.
“Put me down!” I holler, slamming my fists into his back hard. He doesn’t even grunt with the impact.
“Fucking stop it, I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouts, and my assault stops. My mouth parts, eyes widening in confusion. Is he saving me? “But you keep fucking trying to hurt me, that might change!” he continues, pulling at the door, trying to enter the house.
“The door is locked,” I inform him.
He turns, running around the patio toward the side of the house, spotting the girl, who looks pisse
d as hell. Her hands are on her hips, mouth fallen open with disbelief.
“Fucking run, Dolly!” Zeek snaps at her. Her eyes land on me, her bitch face in full force, before turning to run.
Jogging past the house, we make it to the vehicles.
“You can put me down now!” I sneer. I need to find Alessandra, need to phone this in.
He doesn’t listen, just tightens his hold on me.
“Zevin Deluca, I demand you put me down now!” I shout, my voice heavy with authority. He laughs and slaps my ass. My eyes widen. I want to be angry, but pleasure ripples between my legs as adrenaline races up my spine.
He strides to a black truck and opens the passenger door. He doesn’t allow me to get in, though—no, he tosses me in the front seat. My body starts to feel lighter, the alcohol setting in.
“Don’t try and get out!” He points at me, his voice laced with so much fury I just nod.
He runs back toward the house, whipping his gun from his waist band. I should get out, run as fast I can. Looking out the front windshield, I spot Alessandra getting in a car. Opening the door, I stand on the floorboard, pushing me above the doorframe.
“Alessandra!” I holler, nearly losing my balance before I grip the door to catch myself. Her head snaps in my direction, and her face floods with relief.
The guy yanks at her hand and she looks back at him, lust clearly written on her face. She holds her finger up to him, like she’s telling him to hold on, and runs toward me.
“What are you doing? Come with us.” Her eyes search the truck cautiously. I go to take a step down and boots thud behind me, catching my attention.
“I said not to get the fuck out.” Zeek grabs the door, his tone angry.
“It’s okay, I’ll take her home,” Alessandra states, plastering a fake smile.
“I got it.” Zeek eyes her with that look that could make a gargoyle shrink back in fear. Alessandra’s eyes find mine, and the guy she was with hollers for her.
“You’ll be okay?” she questions more than states, the guy behind her revving the engine. I look at Zeek, not sure if I will be okay.
“She’ll be fine. I’m just taking her home.” The words come out hard, and not very reassuring. I want to get down and run, but the look on his face says I wouldn’t make it far.
Alessandra nods and runs back to her guy friend. My body stiffens, fear striking me now that I know she’s gone.
“How do I know you’re not going to hurt me?” I ask Zeek as I watch Alessandra get in the car and drive away. He takes my hand off the door, ushering me inside.
“You don’t, but I don’t see another option for you right now, do you?” I bite at my bottom lip in thought. “Get in,” he demands. I look over the cab of the truck, not convinced I should be getting in it with him. Another shot rings out as I contemplate my next move.
“Get in, damn it!” He shoves me inside the truck and shuts the door.
He strides around the back of the truck and climbs into the driver’s side. My hands shake as they grip the door and dash.
“What was that? Why were you guys shooting at each other?” I ask, knowing I’m asking questions he won’t give me the answer to. He just starts the truck and hightails it out of there. We bounce and jump with the rough terrain. Finally reaching the pavement, the ride evens out.
“Why were you there? Why?” His tone is furious, almost threatening. His arms flex as he turns the steering wheel, his body seeming huge in the small seat. I was scared before, but now, I’m just terrified.
“It wasn’t my idea, I assure you,” I curtly reply, looking out the window.
“What?” Glancing away from the window, I turn to look at him. He takes his eyes off the road, matching my gaze, and my heart skips a beat. His stare is so intense, so serious, but alluring. I hate it.
“My friend Alessandra wanted to go out. Her cousin Bunky told her it was going to be fun,” I inform him. The whole thing sounds stupid now that I say it out loud.
He laughs, the sound sexy and rough.
“Bunky,” he mutters, shaking his head. The name rolling off his tongue makes it sound like Bunky is a screw-up. The alcohol hits at full force, and my body feels warm to the point little beads of sweat form on my chest. I try to roll down the window, but I can’t see in the dark.
“How much have you had to drink?”
I laugh, not sure how to answer that. I've had a few, but to anyone else the little I had wouldn’t so much as make them hiccup.
“That answers that. This your first time drinking, or did something horribly wrong happen and you needed to drown your worries? Like they ran out of your favorite pepper spray?” he asks flippantly.
Anger boils in my chest, and I have the sudden urge to hit him again.
Balling my fists, I mutter, “Fuck you.”
His head snaps to mine, and he hits the brakes. My bravery quickly fades, my hands gripping the dashboard to keep from slamming into it.
“Fuck me?” he states. He slides over and grabs me by the back of my hair, and my eyes nearly roll with pleasure as fear makes me lose my breath. I could try and fight him off, like I’ve been trained to. But because I’ve had a few, I’d more than likely make a mockery of myself.
His harsh breath feathers against my lips as he stares down at me. His full lips break into a crooked smile, his breath smelling of mint and whiskey.
“Rookie, don’t say shit you can’t back up. If you were in my bed, I’d rock that world of blue you live by, believe that.”
I swallow hard and squeeze my thighs to smother the unusual wetness in my panties. My desire for him kindles into a flame, bringing a heat I fear nobody will ever be able to snuff out. For the first time in years, I am turned on and want more. Taking in a ragged breath, I try to get a hold of myself.
“I—” I pause, my words coming out in an erotic tone.
His face turns serious, his eyes landing on my mouth.
“You want me,” he whispers, his eyes finding mine again. My stomach sinks.
“I don’t,” I defend, my words breathy.
“No?”
“No!” I repeat, coming off with more courage than I actually have.
His hold in my hair tightens, and my nipples harden against my top painfully. His other hand rests on the small of my back, and my body thrums with my own heartbeat. Is this from the alcohol, or am I really this affected by him? He drops his lips to my neck and I have to open my mouth to allow my harsh breathing to escape. My left hand grips the side of the door hard, my other grabbing his strong back. The contact making everything so much worse.
“You’re a fucking liar,” he whispers against my neck. I bite my lip to keep from replying.
He lets go of my hair, and I nearly fall into the floorboard.
Settling myself back in my seat, I buckle up and refrain from eye contact the rest of the ride.
He pulls up outside of my house, and fear wracks my brain when I realize I never told him where I live.
“How’d you know where I live?” I look at him with wide eyes.
He grins, his hair falling into his eyes. “I know where all my enemies live. Remember that when you want to run back to your department and squeal about something you think you saw tonight,” he threatens, before getting out of the truck. That fear he is so good at pounding into me returns at full force.
But if I was such a threat, why didn’t he kill me, or leave me to the wolves. Why did he race towards me, leaving his friend in danger? The questions eat at my mind.
I open the truck door, and all but fall on my face from the height of the truck. Zeek catches me before I face-plant and helps me get on my feet. His hands are so big on my small frame; he could easily hurt me if he wanted.
“Why did you save me, but not that other girl?” I ask, staring up into his dark eyes. Eyes that look haunted, intimidating, but lure me into the depths of temptation. His Adam's apple bobs, his eyes searching mine as his jaw clenches.
“What girl?”
He plays dumb.
“The girl who seemed to know you so well. Dolly, I think?” I state, my foot-in-mouth much worse with my drinking.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, his index finger and thumb lazily feather against my chin, his callused finger leaving a blazing trail of temptation.
“You ask a fuck-ton of questions, you know that?”
I laugh, but his face doesn’t find any humor. I know that look—it’s the look you see in the movies right before the couple kiss. Inhaling quickly, trying to get a hold of myself, my lungs fill with his smell of leather and cologne. I never knew someone could smell so good. I imagine the finest man alive couldn’t smell as good as Zeek does right now. Pressing my hand against his chest, I close my eyes, trying to find the words of strength to pull away.
His hand raises, and the words of rejection lodge in my throat as his hand gently grasps the back of my neck.
He slowly begins to lower his lips to mine, stopping short.
“Tell me no.” His voice is guttural. My eyes flick back and forth between his brown irises.
“Why?”
He swallows hard, but doesn’t reply. I don’t want to tell him no. What happens if I tell him yes? Why does he want me to tell him no? The string of thoughts slips through my mind briefly.
“Yes.” My heart slams against my chest so hard with adrenaline a harsh breath escapes my lips.
His brows pinch together like he’s in pain.
“You dumb girl.”
His lips devour mine, his tongue coaxing into my mouth like the Devil himself, sliding against mine in a way I can’t deny. This is so bad, so wrong, yet it feels so right. He growls into my mouth and I inhale sharply, taking in his breath of danger and sin, filling my world of innocence and justice, with something dark and unholy. My eyes open and I watch him; his brows are furrowed angrily, his breathing harsh.
The taste of him sobers me, but the world that was once blurry doesn’t become any clearer; if anything, everything just got a whole lot more confusing. His other hand rests on my hip, my breath becoming sporadic from the contact. My eyes lock with his, and the hand on my hip slowly slides under my shirt. His fingers skimming along my stomach, my body trembles in reaction. I open my mouth to object, but he stifles my words with his tongue diving into my mouth, his large hand taking the leap and grabbing my left tit. My nipple hardens painfully, my body warming between my legs in a way I have never experienced. My eyes close, enveloping me in a world of make-believe, his lips feeling perfect against mine, his hands up my shirt making me crave more. I am so lost. So drunk on lust. So conflicted. I want to disappear into the dry air of Las Vegas, free of judgment and rules.
