by Evans, Lily
“Yeah.” I snuggle into his side, the hair on his chest tickling my cheek.
“So tell me about this fuck fest?” And he asks it in a way that means I don’t get a say.
I groan turning my head into his shoulder so he can’t see my cheeks go up in flames.
“Georgie?” he asks again his voice full of humor and patience so I know he’ll lay there all night waiting for me to spill.
“It’s not funny.” My voice muffled against his body.
“I’m not laughing, I’m listening,” he assures which I find sweet and a little annoying.
“Well it all started one night after we all had one too many…scratch that, three or four too many tequila shots…” I proceeded to tell the story, full of words like, fantasies, more tequila, lack of sex, even more tequila and you know the rest.
ROWDY
I don’t know if I wore this little black dress because I needed an extra boost of confidence or what. It isn’t as if I’ve ever succumbed to a dress code. Rocker chic no matter what it is, is what I do. But it’s my turn to step up; I need everything I have going for me. On stage I fuckin’ rock. No one would ever think to tell me I lack confidence, but get me alone with fantasy man, and I get tongue-tied. Shy. Loser, with a capital ‘L’ plastered on my forehead.
Here on the stage in the smoky bar with my boys, my voice all husky and edgy, I go into a cover for KD Lang’s ‘Constant Craving’ ‘cause that’s what I’m feeling tonight. Immense, soul-deep craving.
He watches.
I know.
I can feel him.
Always do.
Even though the lights are bright in my eyes I know he watches. Gripping the mic with two hands, my hips swaying, my long blonde hair brushes against my skin giving teasing glimpses of my backless dress. The tight little number I’m wearing drapes so low down my back it exposes the rounded beginnings of my cheeks, the hem is about an inch below my ass. Needless to say, I’m gonna try to not bend over too much tonight. The thin little straps go around my neck, the bodice draping over my small breasts. Unlike my best friends Ashley and Georgia, I wasn’t blessed with ginormous tits but a handful seems to satisfy most guys anyway.
It’s a shame about the tits I suppose but I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’ve got a nice tight little ass and this dress is hot! It’s serving not only to accentuate one of my best assets but exposing more than enough skin to get any man’s other head thinking.
Hot. Hot. Hot.
I love this dress. Feeling sexy is exactly what I need tonight if I’m gonna finally get up the nerve to corner him and let him know what’s been flowing through my mind for a long time. Flowing into a pop beat by Pink ‘U+Ur Hand’. My eyes draw to him. I can’t see him, but I know where he’s approximately hanging out. And like I said, I can feel his presence when he’s around.
Looking up through the sea of people I have to school my reaction because he’s five feet in front of me mixed in with the raucous, gyrating crowd watching the show. His face is hard, looking somewhat hungry, and the look sends a shiver through me.
Damn.
I thought my dress was hot but it’s nothing compared to the sexual vibe he’s giving off. He’s twice my size and all man. In some way he’s pushing all my buttons and some that I didn’t even know I had. He could and I would let him eat me for breakfast if he’d only ask.
God, I wish.
A slow, easy smile crosses over his face as if he knows what is going through my mind. With his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles in his biceps stretch the material of his tight black T-shirt to the point of ripping.
God, he’s so fuckin’ hot.
Finishing the song and as any bad ass chica would do, I run off the stage without even a bye or wave. Not my usual style, but very effective.
After running to my dressing room and wiping the sweat off with one of my hand towels, I quickly make my way sneakily back to the bar and plop down on the vinyl topped stool that my two best friends have saved for me.
Crossing my legs, so my short black dress rises even higher up my thighs, I make sure the cocktail straw from my drink rests seductively between my lips. I stare. I stare at him from over my Amaretto sour. Why not? I do a sweep of the room and come back to him. He’s obviously staring at me. The intensity of his stare is unnerving me for some reason. It’s as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Jump his bones kinda thoughts. Why all of the sudden the attention? He has never given me a heated look like that before tonight, at least one I have ever caught. Maybe I truly am clueless.
I’ll have to analyze that later.
I’ve no idea why I feel so desperately attracted to him. I can’t seem to find a logical explanation for the animal attraction. It has to be just one of those purely primal urges one is not supposed to understand, I guess. It’s not as if I’ve not had romantic relationships before. I’ve had some very good romantic relationships. I’ve also had some very bad romantic relationships. I’ve had some super-hot romantic relationships, and I’ve also had some romantic relationships that fizzled after a couple of dates.
Somthing about him though.
Somthing that revs my engine to full throttle.
He’s just perfect. Always nice, always smiles except when he needs to frown. Always confident. Always in charge, of course by looking at him you would know right away that he’s a take charge kinda guy. To top it all off, I’ve never heard anyone whisper a bad word about the guy. Granted, it’s not as if I walk around with a notebook and pencil like a reporter interviewing people, but I do listen, especially to idle gossip because that’s where you can hear the most honest answers to questions.
So to summarize everything, when I was drunk on tequila with my girlfriends one night, I wrote down a fantasy that has been stewing in the back of my mind for some time. It was to get with Foster Mason. AKA Mr. Perfect Bouncer Guy and now they aren’t gonna let me forget it.
“He’s fucking hot,” Georgia whispers in my right ear before she takes a long pull on her long neck beer, her eyes flashing hot.
“You weren’t kidding,” Ashley whispers in the other. “He’s like a perfect specimen of manhood, except for my boyfriend, Gage, of course.”
The funny thing is, is I hear her sigh. “Ooh, I’m gonna tell Gage.” I smile. “I know,” I agree. One hundred percent agree.
“That’s what I meant, of course,” Georgia rushes to clarify. “Except for my boyfriend, Jake.”
“Of course,” I smirk, not removing my eyes from him throughout our bantering back and forth. “Is it hot in here?” I squirm on the stool fanning myself. The way he’s looking at me is making me feel warm and itchy and a little moist in some areas.
“Not really,” Ashley tosses out, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“I’ve had a crush on him forever.” I sigh, sucking a large sip from my straw relishing the sweet and sour taste sliding over my tongue and down my throat. He really is hot. I set my elbow on the bar and lean my chin into my palm. Bad boy, Harley man hot. He’s big. Tall and bulky. Covered with thick well defined muscles like a body builder, which I guess is par for the course when you’re a bouncer. Tanned, tattooed, a super masculine looking, sexy as hell haircut shaved close to his skull. He reminds me of the guy that played the boss vampire in the movie Blade Trinity, only bigger with more muscles and way hotter. I’m not even for sure how that’s even possible but it is. And another major plus is that he’s super tall. Being five foot nine I’m no shorty so he being somewhere around six foot four is extra hot in my book.
“Is that what they call it these days?” Georgia laughs and looks around me to raise her eyebrows at Ashley and they fist bump each other. They actually fist bump like it’s cool.
Ashley looks back at Foster and then drags her gaze back to me like it’s a hard thing to do. “I think Georgia had the right idea when she came up with her fantasy. Fuck fest.”
“Whatever. You are not having anything with Foster.”
They look at each other again which is starting to get my blood boiling. “A-N-Y-T-H-I-N_G!” I repeat loudly. “So quit drooling.”
Georgia raises her brow and Ashley smirks. Honest to God, their weirdness is bizarre and is starting to make me nervous.
Rolling my eyes at them both, I turn back to the door and right into his line of sight. His mouth lifts in a fuckin’ hot grin making my insides flip around and tie into little knots as my body begins to leak like I’m broken and need a good tune-up. “I want more than a fuck fest.”
“That’s good.” Ashley grins at me. “I think he might want a fuck fest with you.”
“He’s never said a word.” I shake my head.
“So,” Ashley retorts. “It’s not as if we’re living in the middle ages Hailie, you say the word.” She wriggles her eyebrows. “I bet he’d find it sexy if you made the first move.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right onto that.” Rolling my eyes, I let out a little sigh.
“Next she’ll be saying he’s cute.” Georgia laughs as she looks at me in an almost challenging glare.
“He is cute,” I argue.
“Are we in junior high?” Georgia asks.
I turn to her. “You don’t think he’s cute?”
“Honey, I’ve got a lot of adjectives running around in my mind right now that describe him and cute ain’t one of ‘em.” Georgia fans herself with a cocktail napkin.
“Or she’ll be saying he’s as sweet as pie,” Ashley adds.
“He is sweet,” I quickly retort.
“She’s got it bad,” Ashley adds.
“Yep,” Georgia agrees.
“Bartender,” Ashley calls. “Another Amaretto sour and make it a double this time.”
Turning back to the bar, I drag my gaze away from his. For some reason it feels like it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
I do have it bad for him but they don’t have to hark on it so much and be super obvious about the whole thing.
“Don’t look now,” Georgia whispers really close to my ear. As I begin to turn my head she hisses, “I said don’t look!”
Almost instantly I feel a sudden heat surrounding me and a voice that is both gruff and sexy. Almost rough like he doesn’t use it very often. I like it. Shivers skate down my spine and head straight to my clit making me squirm a bit. I want to rub myself and let it take its natural course spinning out of control right here on my bar stool, no I think that’s a fuckin’ lie. If I lose control I want it to be with his mouth on me and/or his cock deep inside as his thick, sweaty, hotter than hell body pumps above me as my fingers trace the picture that covers his body and tells a story that I’m dying to read. The pictures will let me know who he really is.
Sucking in a breath I can’t help but know that he feels it, that’s how close he is. His thick muscled pecs are pressing against my back and the only material between us is the thin cotton of his tight-fitting black T-shirt.
Fuck. How did I miss that? His nipples are pierced and with that notion, I release more fragrant cream, soaking the thin, transparent silk of my panties that swath my pussy. No way in hell I’m not squirming now.
“Easy babe,” his breath is so hot. Obviously, I’m not hiding how he’s affecting me very well.
I melt.
His big hand slides beneath the side of my dress, skims my midriff and barely touches the underside of my braless breast before lying flat against my belly and presses even more snugly against my back. Finding and playing with the dangling ring decorating my flesh, he flicks it with his callused fingertip before pressing his finger deep into my navel, swirling it in small and lazy circling motions. The part that’s making me stiffen is how the tip of his little finger keeps knocking at the lace at the band of my panties.
His touch is a complete surprise but there’s no way in hell I’m gonna fight it. I love the roughness of his hands, abrasive, delicious, but I don’t know what to really think. He’s never touched me before tonight. Not even a quick tap, handshake, or even put his arm around my shoulder in a joking or friendly manner. Nothing. Now I think I know why. I would have gone up in flames if he had! I can’t help but make a little sound in my throat, one of immense desperation and arousal. This can’t be good.
My head drops back and as I look up into his face, my knees grow wobbly at the smoldering look he’s giving me. Good Lord. His eyes are warm, smiling in their own way and hot. Thank goodness I’m sitting or I’d probably be flat on my ass right now. “Foster,” I greet him like this is an everyday occurrence, like he puts his hands inside my clothing all the time. Casual. Nonchalant. But I feel anything but. I can’t stop myself from pressing into him. He just smiles before incredibly touching his lips to mine. That’s a first. Oh my God, he tastes so delicious and yummy. I grin moaning into his mouth.
“Hailie,” he replies before gesturing to the bartender and my heart begins to beat a bit faster.
“These are my friends, Ashley and Georgia.” My voice comes out all breathy which is quite embarrassing and to top it off, I can hear Ashley and Georgia’s whispers of praise, which means I know he can too.
“Ladies,” he tosses his greeting out smoothly.
“Foster,” they both say at the same time. Ashley claps her hand over her mouth in a not-so-very-successful effort to stifle a fit of laughter and Georgia mouths, He’s so fuckin’ hot!
He leans back against the bar facing me. One elbow flat, his feet crossed at the ankles and his eyes on me. Ignoring all the shit spewing from Ashley and Georgia, I can see a hint of laughter in his eyes.
“You wanna drink, Foster?” I lift my mixed drink high in the air.
He touches his mouth to mine again and my stomach jumps. It’s an, I just won an Olympic gold medal jump, tingly thing. “Got one babe.” He reaches around my body with his right hand and snags the bottle of water that magically appears in front of me on the bar.
“You don’t drink?”
“Not on duty.”
“Gotta be alert to crack some skulls?” I tease, taking a sip of my Amaretto sour through my little cocktail straw.
“Something like that.” His blue eyes crinkle at the corners in a manner I find beguiling. I really love that word. It draws a smile from me. His eyes focus on my mouth again, then lower.
Looking down I notice my nipples jutting hard against the soft jersey material. Just great!
He bends, his mouth brushing my ear, his breath hot against my skin making my toes curl. “Nice.” All the air empties my body.
He straightens and turns towards Ashley and Georgia. “Ladies.” His left hand slides out of my dress and he saunters away. I mean like really fuckin’ saunters like he just got some and it was the best he’s ever had instead of just coping a feel.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Georgia explodes excitedly.
Ashley slides off the barstool and dances around, swiveling her hips and all while wearing her five-inch stilettos. “Go girl. Go girl. Go girl.”
Georgia turns me to face her by grabbing my knee. “I thought you hadn’t talked to him?”
“I haven’t. Not really.” Sounding slightly put out.
Ashley leans in close with her back to the room. “That sure looked like more than talk.”
“Oh my God, you lied to us,” Georgia hisses. “You’ve totally fucked him.”
Warmth floods my face. “No I haven’t.”
Suddenly a shadow crosses us and my heart stops.
“She hasn’t,” Foster assures.
My head shoots up and I glare at him before I close my eyes tight and wish myself anywhere but here. Unfortunately, I left my ruby slippers at home and fuck, this shit never works the way it does in the movies.
“Not yet,” he adds, his voice deep, gravelly, and ultra-sexy. “And believe you me; I would remember if I had a piece of that fine ass.”
“Foster!” My eyes open wide, shooting daggers his direction, but they aren’t doing their job. He’s still standing instead of lying in a p
ool of blood at my feet. Figuratively speaking, of course.
Georgia claps her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide and dancing and Ashley snorts, nearly choking on her drink.
“All the guys feel the same way.”
I glance over Foster’s shoulder to see Graham, one of the other bouncers, standing just a little behind me to my left. “What are you guys talking about?” He’s always hung around when my friends were at the bar. Who could blame him, they’re gorgeous.
“You’re fuckin’ hot, Hailie.” Graham rolls his eyes as if there’s something wrong with me.
“It’s fuckin’ true,” Georgia cuts in.
I throw up my arms. “Fine. I’m fucking hot!” Although on the inside I’m fucking cussing up a storm.
Ashley leans in with a shit-eating grin. “So you think you’re hot?” She teases me.
“I’m gonna kill you,” I growl and she busts out laughing. “I’ve got to go.” I blurt out, my impatience palpable. I slide off my stool onto my six inch heels, two inch hidden platform leopard print pony hair booties. Fierce. They give me a slight boost of confidence that I need at this moment. “I’ve gotta get outta here.” I point to the stage. “The band is back. I need to rock before I get nauseous with all this testosterone getting thrown around willy-nilly.”
“Willy-nilly?” Foster’s eyes crinkle at the corners again. Fuckity fuck fuck.
I push at his chest. “Yeah, willy-nilly.” I turn and walk away.
My wrist’s tagged before I make it very far and I’m twisted around and thrown up against a rock-hard chest and flat, sexy abs making my nipples begin to tingle at the touch of his body through my clinging jersey knit dress. My head falls back as I glare up at him with my eyebrows pulled together somewhat confused and aroused.
One arm snakes around my waist sneaking his fingertips into the side of my dress again while his other hand slides slowly up my arm until laying his palm flat against my jaw. His thumb skims over my bottom lip. His lips hover less than an inch from mine and I stop breathing. “I really have no desire to beat one out on my own tonight, Hailie.” The intensity of his gaze sends a shudder down my spine.
