“For your information, I don’t need an excuse,” she says, taking the proffered bottle and swallowing a mouthful, wincing at the burn as she screws the cap back on.
“Well, shit, I’m game,” Kick says, eyeing Holly appreciatively.
“You’re about to be a dead man,” Elijah warns. I’m so surprised by the venom in his tone that I turn in his lap to stare at him. I slide my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He closes his eyes, and lets out a deep breath.
What surprises me even more than Elijah’s volatile response is Jackson’s lack of one. He literally just shrugs, and shakes his head. “Dude, don’t encourage her.”
“What about Kings?” Kristine says, picking up a shot glass from the line she just poured and downing it. “You know, first king chooses the liquor, second chooses the mixer, the third usually buys, but since we’re here, we just add another element, like food, or something equally disgusting, and the fourth king dealt is the lucky bastard who gets to drink.”
“I don’t know that game,” I say, “but I kinda like the sound of it.”
“It’s piss easy. I won every game I’ve ever played.” Jackson pats his flat stomach. “Nothing scares this baby. She can swallow anything.”
“Funny, that’s what we say about Hols.” I wink at my best friend.
She shrugs, and slides two shots down the table towards me. “It’s true. I can.”
“I’m on Jack’s team then,” I announce. Elijah’s hand tightens around my waist in response.
“Is there a part of this game where you have to take your clothes off?” Hols asks.
“Oh my God, you are such a child.”
“How about this: if you can’t drink,” Kristine says, “you get to do a nudie run around the house. Two laps.”
“You had better make sure you win, Rowe, because no one gets to see these babies but me.” Elijah warns, cupping my breasts and jiggling them up and down. I smack his hands away.
“Shut up and drink your wet pussy, Cade,” Holly shouts.
“I’m trying, but you bastards won’t leave.”
I lean forward to collect the shots for both of us, and receive a sturdy smack on the arse from Elijah. Raspberry liqueur spills out over my hand, and I lick it clean.
“Aww, you ruined my pussy, Cade,” I tease.
“Bet your sweet arse I did.”
I roll my eyes and hold the shot glass out for him, but then I slam it back before he can take it from me, smiling mischievously when I’m done. He leans forward, capturing my mouth with his, and tasting the sweet liqueur.
“Jesus. Get a room.” Kick throws the wadded up label from his beer bottle at us. Elijah grabs my hip and seats me firmly in his lap, forcing my pelvis into a full rotation on top of his. I squeal when I feel how hard he is already. Trust. Mention the words wet and pussy in a sentence, and he’s ready and willing to carve through stone with his junk to get at what’s on the other side.
He reluctantly pulls away, nibbling on my swollen lips a little before completely setting my mouth free. “Later,” he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be walking funny for a week.”
I bite my lip. “Is that a threat, Mister?”
“No, it’s a fucking promise. That sweet, hot pussy of yours is going to need a fucking vacation after I’m done with it.”
“Why don’t you ever say shit like that to me?” Holly whines as she smacks Jack in the chest, hard enough for us all to wince from the sound alone.
“Ow. Woman,” he says. “Probably because you beat the shit out of me when we’re in the company of others. I’m too busy running the hell away from your scary arse when we’re alone.” He jumps away from another assault, and flops down on the worn lounge opposite Elijah and me. “Alright, Cuz, get your bum over here, and let’s show them how it’s done.”
I attempt to jump up from Elijah’s lap but before he releases me, he pulls me back for another va-jay-jay melting kiss. Twice.
Three rounds in, and both partnerships have had to drink hideous concoctions. Kick and Kristine knocked that stuff back without so much as a complaint, and for a while there I thought Holly was going to throw the game for her and Elijah, but he called her a pussy and she downed it in one go.
Now, it’s our turn. Our starting alcohol was beer, which was fine—I can handle that—but then Kris and Kick added Midori as the mixer. Elijah and Holly wound up picking the food item, and I’m sad to say this one might just be the death of me. I have a deep-seated, pathological fear of baked beans. I know, of all the things in the world to be afraid of, and it’s a can of beans that will do me in. I hate everything about them: the smell, the texture, the taste … Not to mention that thick, syrupy juice that kinda resembles plasma. I cringe as Elijah pours the viscid concoction in. It creeps like lava into the beer glass, falling at last with a loud plop. My stomach churns. Jack doesn’t look all that impressed, but apparently his stomach can handle anything, so I have a feeling I’m going to be the one letting the team down.
I watch as Elijah stirs the mix with a hot pink swizzle stick. He tops it off with a matching umbrella, and slides the glasses towards us. “I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into this game. It’s disgusting.”
“Drink up, baby girl. Make sure you chew those beans real good, though. I know how much you love them.”
“Laugh it up, Cade. You are never getting near my pussy again.” I threaten, and his smile vanishes instantly.
I wad up the corner of the blanket I’ve had draped over my lap. I really don’t want to do this, but I certainly don’t want to do a nudie run in this freezing cold weather, so I’m going to put on my big girl knickers, and take this shit like a man. I pinch my nose closed with my thumb and forefinger, and lift the glass to my lips. As I open my mouth the baked beans hit me first, then the Midori, but though the beer is subtle, it’s definitely still there. It’s all kinds of wrong, and several times I gag, but I finish that sucker and I lick my lips afterward, just for effect.
What I don’t expect, when I open my eyes again and focus on the porch around me, are my friends to be staring at me awestruck, while Jack leans over the railing, puking up his guts.
“You fucking piker!” I shout, jumping to my feet. “I drank that whole thing, and you just gave up? What happened to ‘my stomach can take anything’?” I mock, in my very best Jackson McDoucheNozzle tone of voice.
Everyone else is in stiches, but I do not find this funny. Not one bit. “I’m not doing it. I drank every last drop of that shit, and I shouldn’t have to be punished.”
“Hey, rules are rules,” Kick says.
“Yep,” Kris adds, cheerfully. “The rules state that if one team member doesn’t drink, they both have to nudie run.”
“What fucking rules? We only put that in for Holly. Let her frolic around naked in the cold getting frostbite on her titties. I am not running.”
“It’s only fair, baby girl.”
“Seriously? You’re happy for me to have it all hang out in front of Kick here?” I challenge. Elijah’s face changes; the smile completely vanishes.
“On second thoughts, we’re not doing that.” Elijah removes his feet from the coffee table. He sets his beer down, and rests his elbows on his knees, pinning me with a hard look.
“No, no.” I disagree. “It is only fair, after all.”
“You take your clothes off in front of anyone but me, and I will spank your arse so hard you see stars.”
I stare at him for a moment. Is he serious? I mean, I love it when he gets all demanding, but this? This is different. And it could just be the alcohol talking, but he can’t tell me what to do. I don’t care who he is. Elijah’s gaze sears into my mine, so much angrier than I think he has a right to be. I set my jaw, and pop open the buttons on my jacket.
Holly cups her hands over her mouth and hollers, “Take it all off.”
Kick has the common sense to remain quiet while Kristine and Holly carry on like idiots, hollering and
wolf whistling, and making this much more of a spectacle than it has to be, considering they’ve both seen me naked while making me over for date nights. Good. Let that smug bastard stew in it. No one tells Ana Belle what to do.
“Come on, Jackarse,” I say, slapping my cousin on the back. He looks instantly better after purging that horrendous crap from his stomach. Meanwhile, my baked bean cocktail feels like it’s just barely hanging in there. “Let’s get naked.”
“Ana.” Elijah warns.
I slip the jacket from my shoulders as I stare at him, daring him to push me that little bit further. A muscle ticks in his jaw. He shakes his head in warning. I revel in his anger. I welcome it, knowing that despite whatever comes next I’m going to be relishing the ferocity he brings to our bed tonight. I’m not often in this destructive of a mood, but damn do I savour it when I am.
I lift my shirt over my head, and make quick work of removing my bra. The chilly winter air hits me all at once, and my nipples instantly harden. God dammit, it’s cold out here. Elijah growls. Kick drops his drink in shock, I suppose, and Kris and Holly burst out laughing.
“You had better hope to hell your eyes are closed, Kick, ‘cause I’m about to beat your face in for looking.” Elijah threatens, but he doesn’t take his gaze from me, not even once. “That’s enough, baby girl.”
“No, I really don’t think it is. See, I still have two laps to run.” I smile and strip off my jeans and then I bolt for stairs, hurdling over empty beer bottles and chip packets. The frost-covered grass bites into my feet like a thousand tiny needles. My nose and, well … other bits feel like they’re freezing off. Seriously, why is it so God damned cold? And why the hell was I so keen to get naked and run around in it?
I don’t know if Jack has followed suit—I can only hope that bastard is experiencing his very own form of frostbite to some very unfortunate places right now—but I do know that Elijah is hot on my heels. Wind whips through my hair as I run, shrieking like a banshee, sensing him so close behind me, and then as my dickhead cousin comes into view, running right for me with his junk hanging out and his eyes squinched tightly closed, I’m shrieking for a different reason. I dodge left, but at the last minute Jackson opens his eyes, and stumbles directly in my path.
The world slows down. I can pinpoint the moment we both know the inevitable is going to happen, because Jack’s features twist with fear. It’s the same look of sheer horror that I know is written all over my face. I dart left, he dodges right, but it isn’t enough. We both scream as our bodies collide with a loud, ringing slap, and we slide down on the cold grass, a tangled mess of touching limbs and bits.
I leap back as if I’ve been bitten by a snake in the grass. Jack’s snake.
OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!
“OH MY GOD!”
Hysterical laughter mocks us from the porch. We are never going to live this down. I glance behind me and find that Elijah is bent over his knees, clutching a blanket that I assume he’d grabbed off the couch with the intention of covering me up. Instead, he’s using it to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. I glance at my friends, and then down at my idiotic cousin.
“YOUR JUNK JUST TOUCHED ME!” I scream, and then squirm as my whole body shudders with revulsion. “Why? Why were your eyes closed, arsehole?”
“I didn’t wanna see your bits,” he shouts back.
“Then run the other God damned way, you dumb fuck!”
“What, you didn’t see me running towards you? Why didn’t you move out of the way?”
“I did. But you moved in my way, because your eyes were closed. Who runs with their eyes closed? What are you, six? This is all your fault!”
“My fault? How is this my fault? You’re the one who got naked because you wanted to prove a point.”
“How is this not your fault?” I scream and then mock in a deep “Jack” baritone. “My stomach can handle anything. I’ve won every game I’ve ever played. I’m winning at life.”
I stalk over to Elijah and snatch the blanket from his hands and shudder. “Betcha glad you defied me now, huh, baby girl?” He taunts me, in between his laughter.
“Defy this,” I say, giving him the finger. I wrap myself in the blanket and stalk towards the porch steps. “I need to shower … in bleach.”
Holly has her phone out, and makes no show of hiding the fact that she’s been filming us. “Hols, if this winds up on YouTube I will twat tap you into an early hysterectomy.”
“Boo, you whore,” she says, and slides her phone into her pocket, sniggering the entire time.
“All of you, get out of my house. I’m going to bed.” I breeze past the gathering, slamming the front door with its wide stained-glass panels behind me. Then I flip them the finger, drop the blanket and head toward the shower, ignoring the way the front porch erupts with laughter.
I SET the champagne in the ice bucket, and run my hands over the smooth black vinyl of the massage table I borrowed from Holly and Jack—okay, maybe “massage table” is a stretch. I’m going out on a limb here, and saying that the only massaging that’s happened on this table is the kind where Jack massages the back of Holly’s throat.
I cringed a little bit when I tried removing the wrist and ankle cuffs, and found they wouldn’t come off. Apparently they’re bolted to the table. I do not even want to know what those kinky fucks have be doing on this.
I emptied three whole cans of Lysol on that shit the second Jack dropped it off. I wanna give Ana a night she’ll never forget, but the only rash I want her taking away from it is a little chaffing from fucking ourselves raw. Herpes is never your friend.
So, what’s my grand plan for this proposal? An empty house, a roaring fireplace, champagne—obviously—one sexy-arsed full-body massage, complete with a happy ending, and hopefully a happily-ever-after. And a yes; would be awesome, too.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life. I mean, laying down a fuckload of money for a ring is one thing, but actually asking the question? I yank on the bowtie I’m wearing. I feel hot, despite it being the only thing I have on—hey, do not judge me. Ana has a thing about naughty manservants. I usually just shrug my shoulders and go along with it.
My skin prickles all over. I scratch at the junction between my forearm and bicep, then behind my knees. Shit. Maybe it’s the sap from the pine needles I used to light the fire that’s playing havoc, but I suddenly want to bathe in a tub of ice.
Okay, you got this, dickwad. You can do this. When she walks in, you’re just gonna kiss her stupid, pour her a glass of champagne, and give her a nice sensual massage, then you’re gonna tell her you can’t stand the thought of being without her, and you’ll drop to one knee and … fuck. Why is it so hot in here? I scratch at my arm again, and notice a red welt forming beneath my tats. What the hell? I pull a piece of ice from the bucket, and slide it over the lump. Christ that feels good. On closer inspection, it looks like my whole body is breaking out in these blotchy red bumps.
I need a drink. I need an antihistamine, but I don’t have time to go rooting around in the cupboard for that shit because Ana’s going to be home any second, and I have orgasms to deliver and a question to pop. I pull the champagne from the ice bucket and pour myself a glass, downing it in one go. I scratch, but the itch just spreads. It’s everywhere. My entire body is breaking out in this fucked up rash and … Jesus Christ, it’s like an inferno in here.
I haul my arse over to the window, throwing it wide and gulping in deep, heavy breaths of cold winter air. That’s when I hear the van’s door slam. I jack-knife from the window and hurry back to the table. I can’t stop scratching. I swear my skin is crawling with fire ants.
“Honey, I’m home,” a voice sing songs from the hall.
Fuck. That’s not Ana.
Before I have time to cover my junk, Jack and Kick are standing in my lounge room. A heartbeat passes, one in which we all just stare at each other like fuckwads, and then the laughter starts. I close my eyes, and squ
eeze my hands into fists to keep from ball-punching the both of them.
Kick leans towards Jack and whispers, “I think we’ll call him Jeeves.”
“Dude, when I said you could borrow my table I’d kinda pictured you doing something bad arse and kinky with it. Now I just wanna take it back.” Jack walks forward, and brushes his hands lovingly over the leather. “Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s gonna take you home and put you to good use.”
“Don’t fucking touch it. I went through three cans of disinfectant to get that thing clean. I don’t want your herpes contaminating it again.”
“Herpes? Fuck you, cunt-burger. I’m definitely taking my table back now.”
“Speaking of herpes, what the hell is going on with your skin?” Kick says, eyeing me from head to toe. “It looks like you fucked a leper and your limbs are gonna start falling off.”
“Feels like it, too.” I’m cupping my pork sword with both my hands when I start to itch again. In order to scratch I have to let go, but Jack and Kick are standing right in front of me, and that seems kinda gay. I think back to tag teaming Jenny, the club whore, with Kick, and decide I don’t give a fuck. Jack will just have to deal with feeling emasculated by my huge man meat on his own. I drop the jewels and start scratching all over. Fuck, that feels good.
“Dude, put it away.”
“I can’t. I gotta scratch.”
“Do you have crabs? If you have crabs you are not using my table.”
“Are you breaking out in hives, man?” Kick searches my face.
“No.” I respond on auto-pilot as I chase the itch down my tattooed thighs. “What the fuck are you two doing here?”
“I found this loser at the bar. We decided we didn’t want to pay an arm and a leg for Dave’s beer and his shithouse service, so we got a cab back here to drink your liquor and play Xbox.”
“Well, you have to leave. I have plans.” I glare at Kick. “I told you to make yourself scarce.”
“Dude, what plans?” Kick asks. “I just thought you’d confine that shit to your room.”
Greetings from Sugartown Page 7
