Premature Evacuation (Underground Sorority #1)

by Rachel Shane

  While we waited for our drinks, I let my attention fly to the door. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for exactly until I found myself being disappointed by every single person who walked through. “Are your friends—” I clamped my mouth shut mid-sentence as the answer to my question stepped inside. Corey’s button down shirt looked clean and classy compared to Nate’s faded Throckmorton football t-shirt.

  Bianca thrust a rum and diet into my hand. “Are my friends…what?” She followed my line of vision. “Oh, yay! They’re here.” She raised a hand in the air, her gold bracelets shooting down to her elbow, and waved.

  The boys jutted a chin nod at us and then weaved through the crowd in our direction, stopping first at an open spot at the counter. With drinks in hand, they completed their journey toward us.

  “Glad you guys decided not to be lame again,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

  “Yeah, you really missed out on a great time last night.” I held Corey’s gaze. “I held up my end of the promise.”

  Corey’s brow shot way up. “The naked promise?”

  “Oh please.” Bianca flipped her dark hair back behind her shoulder in one broad, ballet twirl as if she were in a shampoo commercial. The black light illuminating the bar made Nate’s vodka tonic shimmer an impossible electric blue and sent the same shimmer along Bianca’s strands, further advertising her as if she was a product. “She’s referring to the shower she took last night to wash off the filth from your room.”

  Corey laughed. Which made me laugh.

  “Oh!” he said. “There’s that smile again. I knew I’d never forget it.”

  I bit my lower lip to keep from smiling wider. But then my smile dropped all together when I spotted Bianca’s scrunched up face.

  “I’m heading to the dance floor before this conversation gives me a sugar headache.” She strutted a few feet away, gyrating her hips in a sultry way as she trailed her fingers down the side of her curves. She spun around and wiggled her index finger at the boys, a come hither look on her face.

  They both downed their drinks in an instant and slammed the empty cups on the bar. Within moments they surrounded her as she swung her hips in sync with both of them simultaneously. I slowly pulled the straw out of my glass then plunged it back in, repeating the motion. I wasn’t about to make the threesome into a conga line.

  After the song ended, Corey broke away and squeezed into a non-existent space next to me at the counter. Bianca snapped her head in our direction as she continued grinding with Nate. Corey peered over the top of my cup. “Rum and coke? Lame. I’m buying you a shot.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to.” After all, he barely knew me. He was probably only being polite because I was Bianca’s friend.

  But he ignored me. The bartender plunked two square glasses on the table. He filled each to the top with a creamy cerulean liquid and then swirled a dollop of grenadine into the oceany blend. Whipped cream became a hat.

  Corey leaned in and whispered in my ear, his breath hot. “It’s called Smurf on the Red.”

  I studied the concoction, tilting it until the whipped cream jiggled.

  Corey grinned. “It’s supposed to look like Smurfette on her period.”

  “Oh God,” I said, earning a laugh from him. “Now I get why you called my rum and diet drink lame.”

  Corey tapped his glass against mine. “Cheers!” He wrapped his mouth around the edges of the glass and flung his head backward. I followed suit. My mouth foamed with a milky citrus taste, a hint of something spicy as an afterthought. The burn in my esophagus didn’t hit me until several seconds later, and I felt the poetic juxtaposition of pleasure and pain. “Definitely tastes better than I thought.” I wiped the whipped cream mustache from my lips.

  “I’m supposed to say, ‘that’s what she said!’ in response, aren’t I?” He raised a brow. “But I would never say that.” He playfully tapped my upper back. The ephemeral feeling of his touch stuck on me like cracked nail polish. He started fidgeting in his pocket as he glanced back toward Bianca and Nate, who still danced with at least an inch of space separating them. My stomach twisted as the inevitable loomed—him walking away.

  “Now I owe you a shot,” I said, fast, before my brain could protest.

  He pursed his lips at me, as if he were sizing me up. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m going to continue with my lame drink motif and order the girliest shot I can think of.”

  Corey nodded. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way to impress me.”

  His words dug a hole into my heart. The shot he’d picked was supposed to impress me.

  He bent closer to my ear. “I’m just fucking with you.”

  As I waited until the bartender acknowledged me, Corey placed his hand on my hip. My resulting smile coaxed the bartender in my direction. “Three shots, please.” I leaned forward and cupped my hand over my mouth to block Corey from hearing. “First bring two shots of water but have one shot of straight vodka waiting in the wings.”

  The bartender returned a moment with two shots of clear liquid.

  Corey eyed the drinks. “Vodka? Gin? Don’t I get a lemon to chase it or are we skipping straight to body shots?”

  I lifted my drink. “What, afraid you’re not man enough to take it straight?”

  He raised his glass in challenge. I counted to three and we both downed the water at the same time.

  “Wow.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You really did not want to impress me.”

  “No, I just want to get you drunk,” I said as I waved the bartender over for the straight vodka. “And a lemon.”

  The bartender set down the real shot along with the lemon.

  I lifted a glass in one hand, lemon in the other. “Go on.” I nudged the lemon toward him. “Drink it.”

  He obliged, downing the shot on command. He set the glass down and leaned far back from me, placing one hand on his hip and the other scratching his scruffy chin in a V-shape. He cocked one eyebrow, silent for several moments. “Okay. I know what shot we should do next.”

  Now, I did cringe. “Do you like that I’m standing? Because one more shot and I might not be.” I’d skipped the last round but already the room was starting to go wobbly.

  “Not strong, I promise. You’ll like this one.” Corey leaned across the bar and asked for two Hot Apple Pies, whatever that was.

  If this were meant to impress me, it did. The bartender pulled several bottles off the shelf and added drops of each into the small shot glasses. Then he lit the liquid on fire. The flames swooped into the air, earning a few oohs and ahhs from nearby customers. “You have to blow on it,” Corey said.

  “Wait, I know this one. I’m supposed to say, ‘that’s what he said,’ right?” I leaned forward, puckered my lips, and extinguished the flame with my breath. The booze already sitting in my stomach swirled, the scenery in front of me blurry. His gaze drank me in as I knocked the shot back, the alcohol burning my throat. Though it had a caramel apple sweetness, the heat of the liquid and the strength of the alcohol content made me cough.

  Blood rushed to my cheeks, but when I glanced back at Corey, he was staring at me in a way that made me feel like a goddess. It was the same way Ryan used to look at me, last year when I visited him at his college, before he broke up with me to find the illusive “someone better.” I shook my head against that thought. That was the past and the past behind me.

  The DJ switched songs to an upbeat pop number by Clever Trevor, the hottest singer around, and all the girls in the bar shrieked in delight. Feeling loose from the alcohol, I slid my hand in Corey’s and pulled him onto the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around my waist, tugging me closer until I forgot about all the other people knocking into us as we swayed while the world tipped. I sang him every word, grabbing his shoulder and pulling his ear close to my lips during the important lines. “You’ve got the p
roof to make me believe. You’ve got it all.”

  He dipped his head to my neck and sang me a different tune, his lips grazing against the spot right below my ear. Tingles erupted, radiating outward. “So what are you doing later? Do you want to come back to my frat and, you know, chill for a bit?”

  It was a foreign question to me, one I’d never been in a position to answer. Not when I had a boyfriend to answer to. I knew by the fact that my fingers still interlocked with his that I didn’t want our time together to end. Endings were inevitable. Today always turned into tomorrow. Sentences always had punctuation. I knew the night would be over at some point, but this moment seemed far too soon.

  I glanced back at Bianca who was still dancing with Nate, still a solid inch of space between them. “Let me talk to Bianca first.”

  “Nah. She won’t care. Trust me. It’s cool.” Corey gripped my fingers tighter.

  His comment solidified my fear that she would care. Still, when Corey tugged me in the direction of the door, I let him. The back door. The one that meant we wouldn’t have to bypass Bianca to leave.

  HIS MOUTH WAS ON mine before we even stepped over the threshold into the back alley of Quigley’s. A warm breeze seized my hair and whipped it around my shoulders as he pressed me against the bricks and settled his weight over mine. It felt amazing to have someone so strong holding me up compared to scrawny Ryan whose kisses were out of duty, not desire. Every sweep of Corey’s tongue rocketed tingles swooping through my entire body. He tasted like cinnamon, vodka, and everything I’d been missing. My hands wrapped around his shoulders, knotting in the hair dusting the back of his neck. A small moan escaped his mouth before he broke away, breath ragged, eyes hungry. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he whispered.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that since last night.” I drifted my hand along his stomach, tracing his abs through his shirt and circling my finger around his pecs. The kiss deepened, growing more intense with each revolution of his tongue. Corey’s own hands skimmed every muscle on my back before sliding under my shirt. His cold palms landed against my skin in sharp contrast to the warm night air.

  A scraping sound forced us to break apart just as the back door to Quigley’s swung open and one of the bartenders stepped out. He paused at the sight of us, then rolled his eyes and lugged a garbage bag filled with clanking beer bottles into the open space.

  Corey ignored him, his fingers trailing down my bare arm and releasing goosebumps in his wake, before he laced his fingers with mine and tugged me into step. I stumbled, still disoriented from the kiss, but followed as if he were pulling my leash. A giddy schoolgirl smile etched its way onto my face.

  Every few steps we crashed into each other, our mouths connecting like magnets. Our hands never left contact. By the time we reached Beta Chi, a hunger rocketed in every nerve ending in my body, pulsing strongest between my legs. It took nearly as long as it did to walk home to make it from the Beta Chi entryway to Corey’s room because he pressed me against every wooden wall panel to steal the kisses I offered him freely.

  Once inside his room, he leaned me up against the doorway, offering me a happy smile as he gazed in my eyes and twisted a lock of my hair behind my ear. Our chests puffed in unison, and my mouth parted, ready for another kiss that didn’t come. I let out a growl of frustration that earned a chuckle from him.

  His lips landed on my ear, dropping a few stray kisses on my earlobe. My eyelashes fluttered closed to savor the sensation. The way his fingers moved along my skin was like a dance, each step perfectly performed to pre-existing choreography. In one swift graceful move, he pulled my shirt over my head and lifted me up. My legs clasped around his back as he carried me to the bed. My head hit the soft gray pillow gently, and I imagined this was what it must feel like to dive out of an airplane without a parachute and still land safely on earth. I didn’t let go until he nudged his knee between my legs and hovered over me, alternating between kissing my mouth and my neck. Each time his lips grazed along my jaw, I let out a little gasp. Closer. I wanted him closer.

  I grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth back to mine, my lips opening in welcome. But he refused. Instead, he sucked on my lower lip just enough to make me desperate. To make desire pound like a bass track through every inch of my body. I reached for him but he was too far away, tracing a line of kisses along the tops of my breasts, down my stomach, down down down. A low breath escaped my lungs, and the ache throbbing between my legs swelled.

  He was so skilled in the art of hooking up that I hadn’t even realized he’d unclasped my bra until he was pulling it off my shoulder. He drank me in for a moment, a hungry look that robbed me of all thought, before dropping his mouth back where he left off, his tongue swirling in circles over the delicate skin. My back arched into his kiss, and I let out a tiny shiver from the cool air hitting the wet trail he left behind. Corey’s arms wrapped around me to shield me in warmth.

  I had a flash, a quick image of all the other girls he must have had in this exact position while I’d only seen this view from beneath one other guy. It took me three full years to sleep with Ryan and here I was, considering signing the same contract with this guy I barely knew. I’d vowed to experience all I had missed out thanks to Ryan’s relationship shackles, but they suddenly tightened on my wrists all over again.

  “Do you bring a lot of girls back here?” I asked, my voice rising almost an entire octave.

  “No.” Of course Corey was going to say no. I should have been more specific. Not here, because this had only been his room for a weekend so far. But in general.

  “I don’t want a one-night stand.” My words contradicted my actions as my fingers fumbled for the button on his jeans and tugged his pants down. My words also contradicted my own plans, the ones projecting fantasies in my mind I yearned to act out on this very bed. I wanted the opposite of Ryan: passion, the unexpected, no strings.

  Corey’s warm skin sealed against mine, his head nuzzling in my neck. “Who says this is only for one night?” The hot air against my ear sent chills down my spine. His scruff scratched my cheek in a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain. I tightened my legs around his waist, clasping them at the ankle above his lower back.

  “Does that mean…” He wanted something more? Or he would hook-up with me again, in a casual way? Or something else I didn’t understand because I’d missed the Essential Guide to College Hook-ups they must have passed out during freshman orientation?

  “Let’s see where this goes. No need to define anything yet.” He blocked any more questions with a kiss.

  He must have misinterpreted my one-night stand comment as wanting to take things slow because he took everything at an agonizing pace. His hands and lips skimmed down the length my body, tracing my curves the same way I did with charcoal during figure drawing class. Touch me, I thought. But his fingers never left the safe zone. Touch me, damn it! Heat built and built within me, reaching a crescendo without release. Every time I trailed my hand below his belly button, he caught it and brought it back to his lips, dropping a kiss on the back of my palm. By the time daybreak crept in through the blinds, creating crosshatches on his striped comforter, I thought I would explode.

  “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” I asked as his lips made another sweep along my swollen neck. I’d have to break out the winter scarves tomorrow for sure.

  Corey rested his chin between my breasts and directed a sly grin my way. “I want you to really want it.”

  “Achievement unlocked.”

  One arm slid under my back as he fit himself against me, lying on his side. His other hand knocked my knees open. “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  Two fingers slipped inside me just as his lips returned to mine. But I couldn’t kiss him, I could only moan. Sensation rushed to his touch. His fingers moved in and out at a rhythm that matched my bucking hips. It became clear immediately his talents didn’t end at kissing prowess. My breathing increa
sed, pushing air directly into his mouth, like I was giving him CPR even though he was the one rescuing me. When his fingers crooked inside me, I thought I was going to collapse, the pressure too intense, too amazing, for me to bear. Ryan had never brought me to orgasm this way—but after only a minute or two, Corey had me right on the edge. I tightened my grip on his forearm, closed my eyes, and prepared to fall over the cliff. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I panted.

  “Hmm. So you’re saying you want me to keep going?” Corey asked against my lips, a bit of humor evident in his voice. “Or…?”

  My eyes popped open. This was what I’d been wanting all along. To know what I was missing. And there were still parts I needed to experience. “Or,” I said between gasps. “I want the or.”

  Corey dropped a quick peck on my lips before gliding his fingers out of me. In a flash, he reached into a silver tin next to his bed and pulled out a square wrapper. So few items had been fully unpacked in his room and yet a tin full of condoms waited at the ready. Again, a parade of previous girls marched through my imagination, all sneering at the lone guy from my past. “How many people have you…”

  “Ten,” he said without a moment of hesitation. “You?” I didn’t know what number I expected or if a higher or lower number would have made a difference in my decision.

  “Six.” The lie escaped before I could catch it. It seemed so effortless and when he didn’t question it, I realized I could be this girl. The girl Corey had in his mind as the ideal Rho Sigma sorority chick. The girl I’d never had a chance to be before.

  I’d been so close to release from the foreplay that I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from screaming out just from him entering me. With Ryan, there’d always been a little pain involved, as if we’d never quite mastered the basics. But with Corey, only pleasure blossomed at the spot our bodies connected. He gasped out too, closing his eyes and scraping his rough cheek against mine, like we’d both boarded a rocket launch at the moment of takeoff.