I hugged her to my side. The soft press of her generous curves against me was all natural. Her girls were going free tonight and, depending how she moved and lifted her arms, she was showing off some major side boob.
Reaching over, I hefted one of her tits through her top. Heavy. Warm. Kind of smooshy. I bet guys liked that.
Or maybe guys—maybe West—preferred Aubrey’s artificial wonders?
“What’s that about?” Rue swatted my hand away.
I poked at my chest. “Do you think this is why?”
Sighing, she took her two hands and gave my tits a quick squeeze. “They’re boobs. They jiggle. They have nipples. Guys like nipples. It’s really not more complicated than that. The only thing they might like better is seeing two girls play with each other’s tits.”
She glanced around, and when I realized what she was doing, I followed suit.
We were attracting a bit of an audience. An all-male audience.
She turned to whisper in my ear, plastering herself fully against my side. “Come on, let’s dance and give these boys a show.”
Knowing how much she loved being the center of attention, and ready to stir up a little trouble myself, I held her hand as she led me onto the dance floor.
Don’t get me wrong, Rue was gorgeous, my bestie, and we lived together. I’d dance dirty with her all night long for the fun of it.
But it’d never go past that. I liked cock. So did she. Plain and simple.
We found a spot and faced each other, her hands on my waist and mine in the air. The bass was pulsing, the beat throbbing, and we found our groove, sliding sinuously against each other. In less than the space of two verses, we were surrounded by men presented with a dilemma—to stand back and watch or to approach and try to get a piece of the action.
The timid ones watched. Those weren’t the ones we were after anyway.
The bolder ones moved closer. Hands slipped over my hips. One confident man wedged himself between us, so we sandwiched him.
And I didn’t give a fuck about anything except dancing, getting lost in the moment, and the sensation of being wanted.
Even if it was by strangers whose hands didn’t know how I liked to be stroked, or that the back of my knees were ticklish, or that—if he did it right—just massaging my feet could be erotic enough to make me wet. No, tonight I wasn’t picky.
Tonight, I was fine with quantity over quality.
Maybe I could learn something from West after all.
The guy behind me moved closer, effectively trapping me between him and the man almost flush with my chest. Palms traced from my hips down the front of my thighs while the lanky guy before me cupped my neck and stared into my eyes. An erection pressed into my ass and another into my stomach. I ran my hands down the impressive set of abs in front of me. And I shamelessly compared size. The guy I was facing had a bigger cock and better moves.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
Licking my lips, I dropped low then rose up slowly, sliding against his hard body. His dark eyes flared with heat, and he pushed a thigh between my legs, dislodging the guy behind me.
No big loss.
Wrapping a hand around my hip, he pulled me closer, my dress riding up my legs until his thigh was pressed against my bare core. The dance floor was packed, and I was just shy of sharing my secrets with anyone who cared to look. As we moved, the friction of the rough denim against me drew a moan from my lips. He grinned wickedly and gripped my ass, pulling me higher. If he didn’t know I was pantiless before, he knew now.
I bit my lip and slipped my hands under the edge of his shirt. His warm muscles contracted as I drew my nails along the waistband of his low-slung jeans.
Moving against him, feeling his reactions to me, filled me with a sense of power. It was dirty and heady and wrong and everything I needed this night to be.
I didn’t want pretty words and soft emotions.
I needed a guy to take the initiative and sweep me away with raw chemistry and bad decisions made after too much alcohol.
I needed to spread my legs and forget how he felt moving between them, and instead lose myself in the unknown, dangerous appeal of a stranger.
For a second, I froze, and I tugged his head closer to me. “Your name’s not Jared, is it?”
He looked confused. “No, I’m—”
“Doesn’t matter. As long it’s not Jared. I don’t have a good history with Jareds.” Or . . . Wests. But I couldn’t imagine there was more than one of those in the area.
He smirked down at me as he ran his hands up my sides, his thumbs stroking the undersides of my breasts. “Honey, you can call me whatever the hell you want tonight.”
I pressed against him, crushing my chest to his. “I don’t want to call you anything. Words aren’t real high on my priority list.”
He chuckled, eyes half-closing as his hands retreated back to my hips. He withdrew his leg and spun me until he was pressed against me from behind, bending his knees slightly so he could nestle his hard length between my ass cheeks.
His hips thrust against me and I lifted my hands over my head and back until they looped behind his neck. The scruff on his face tickled where it pressed against my jawline, scraping my soft skin.
“God, I love the South.”
I hummed my agreement. “We’re big on . . . hospitality around here.”
He groaned as I scraped my nails along the base of his scalp. “And I was told everything moved slower down South.”
“Not tonight.”
His hips mimicked what I hoped we’d be doing horizontally soon while his hands wandered the rest of me. I didn’t look to see if anyone noticed. I just watched his hands—part of me vibrating with arousal, another part detached—as they traced over my stomach, ribs, neck, upper arms. The sides of my boobs. Followed my hip toward my core before veering away at the last second.
Another hand pushed his away roughly, yanked me from his embrace.
A hand wearing a royal blue hair tie.
Familiar eyes blazed into mine.
“Sadie—what the fuck?”
Huh. He’d found me.
I tried to turn back to my dance partner, but West had a firm grip on my wrist. I hadn’t noticed that. I tugged, but his fingers tightened in response.
What the fuck? He wanted to know what. The. Fuck?
I laughed.
Looked in his beautiful, blue-gray eyes and laughed.
“I’m dancing.”
West tucked me close to his tense body, turning us so that he physically separated me from my new friend.
“What’s going on? Did this asshole slip you something?”
I met his gaze. Smirked in contempt. “Nope. We were just starting to get to know each other.”
Mouth tight and nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezed my wrist, his grip almost painful. “We’re leaving.”
I dug in my heels as he started to pull me off the dance floor. Or, at least, I tried. Digging in your stilettos when you were being manhandled by a guy who was still inches taller than you in your highest heels wasn’t super effective. I stumbled, forced to clutch his arm to avoid face-planting.
My pride had me matching his long-legged stride. When we reached the dim overhang outside the bar, my ears ringing from the sudden quietness, I’d hit my limit.
“Stop!”
The venom in my voice got his attention, and he froze, turning back to face me. His fingers still circled my wrist.
His eyes raced over my face, brows knit with confusion. Scrubbing his hand across his short hair in agitation, he stared at me. “Are you mad at me? Is this some kind of fucked up revenge for missing our date Wednesday?”
I licked my lips, forcing my somewhat sluggish brain to think before reacting. I was tipsy, but not wasted. “Nope. Just making a new friend.”
He cocked his head to the side, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “What’s going on here?”
“Why don’t you tell me?!”
He to
ok a ragged breath, caging me against the stucco building with his arm. He loomed over me, and I hated the way he was using his size to his advantage. “You leave tomorrow, and I get back from Charleston, and you won’t even see me? And then I find you here looking for a hook up?” Gray thunderclouds raged in his eyes and his arm muscles flexed spasmodically.
Meeting his glare with one of my own, I straightened, glad for the extra height my shoes gave me, even if I did feel a little unsteady. “I know.”
“You know what?”
“I know, and you don’t have to pretend anymore.”
HE LEANED DOWN until only a whisper separated us. I exhaled, my entire world shrinking to just his face. The rough stubble where he hadn’t shaved. The harsh slash of his eyebrows. His narrowed blue-gray eyes piercing me, shaking my resolve. I bit my lip, and his gaze flickered down at the small action. He took a step closer, crowding me. His skin was hotter than the humid air surrounding us.
When I inhaled, I expected to smell her. Some combo of musk and suntan lotion and sweat and money.
But he smelled like him—citrus and salt. He’d been considerate then. Washed her off before he came looking for me.
“I can stop pretending? Stop pretending I don’t want to turn you over my knee and make your perfect little ass red for letting another guy put his hands on you? That I would’ve taken him down if it wouldn’t have taken away time I want to be spending with you—time I’d much rather pass in a bed together instead of arguing outside a bar?”
He released my wrist, his hand sliding up my arm until his fingers circled my throat. His thumb covered my pulse and his lips thinned.
“Is that from me? Or from that stand-in back there?”
My mouth parted and I sagged against the wall. What the fuck was happening? I pressed my legs together, ashamed of the moisture pooling there, furious that he still heated my blood and weakened my knees despite everything.
“I saw you. I saw her. I saw the pictures. I. Know.” My voice betrayed my strong words, though, breaking with each painful statement.
His fingers shifted behind my neck, forcing my head up to meet his gaze.
“Stop talking in fucking riddles.”
I wasn’t. Riddles were funny. This—this wasn’t funny at all.
“You’re leaving me. You’re going back to her. Hell, I don’t know if you ever left her.”
He dropped his arm and took a step back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He cursed under his breath. “I will never fucking understand women. What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one leaving. To Grand Cayman. Tomorrow. The only her I’m going back to while you’re gone is my boat. And the only her I thought I was with was you.”
I pushed off the wall until I stood on my own. Part of me knew having this conversation now, with alcohol loosening my tongue, was a terrible idea. But that part of me was outvoted by pride and anger and the sheer fucking desire to hurt him back.
“Then why was Aubrey in your arms this afternoon?” Sheer venom dripped from every word.
He stiffened, eyes widening in either guilt or surprise. I couldn’t tell which.
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you seriously gonna deny it?”
“I—” He opened and closed his mouth, and then looked down at his feet like maybe the answer was lost somewhere down there with the cigarette butts and empty beer bottles before raising his eyes back to mine. He shook his head. “How do you even know about that?”
“Wow. That’s your response? That’s what you have to say?”
I blinked, stupefied.
Turning, I stumbled away from him, off the concrete patio and into the oyster shell parking lot. I teetered, unsteady on my heels as the world fell apart beneath me.
Hot tears pricked my eyes. I gritted my teeth together, hating the female propensity toward crying in both sadness and anger. It felt weak, and although I could barely see through my traitorous eyes to walk straight, my muscles were tense with fury.
They weren’t tears of self-pity. Not one single drop.
“Sadie.” My name was a warning. An order to stop.
Fuck him and what he wanted.
I picked my way deeper into the dark parking lot.
“Sadie!”
I lifted my hand then delicately raised my middle finger.
Before I could lower my arm, he was there—lifting me up and tossing me over his shoulder.
The warm breeze caressed the bottom of my ass where my dress no longer covered me.
I struggled against his hold even though I knew it was pointless. Instead, he gripped me tighter, one arm anchored across the back of my thighs, the other discovering what was missing from my outfit.
He paused the second his fingers touched bare skin instead of lace or silk.
“Seriously?” His harsh laugh echoed in the empty night. “I don’t know whether to strangle you for dancing with that guy like this or fuck you right here in the parking lot.”
“You won’t be touching me anymore!” My nails raked across his back.
“The hell I won’t. You’re mine.”
He palmed the curve where ass met thigh, rubbing my sensitive skin, squeezing me. My body was a rebellious slut, betraying me with its urge to push into his hand.
When we reached his truck—the big, shiny white one, not the junker—he pitched me into the back seat, following me in and hovering over me. My dress was twisted around my hips, and one strap was falling off my arm, the top curve of my breast bare to his view. I scrambled to the other side, but he was faster, hitting the child lock button so I couldn’t open it from my position.
His finger traced my cleavage, pulling my strap down further, dipping low between my pushed up breasts. Leaning down, he nipped the side of my neck before trailing kisses down to my collarbone.
“Is this what I can’t touch? All this soft skin that’s just begging for me?”
His stubble scraped my throat and a moan escaped before I could stop it.
“Get off me!” I hissed, pushing up with my hips to dislodge him. The door behind him was still open, our feet sticking out.
He ground himself over my exposed mound, his erection hard and straining behind his zipper. “Don’t worry, babe. We’re both gonna get off.”
Oh, yes. Please.
Yanking my arms above my head, he captured my mouth in a savage kiss—taking more than he gave. My tongue fought his, but my hips answered his thrusts, rolling in a heady response.
Holding my wrists with one hand, his other drifted down my arm and up to the base of my neck, fisting a handful of hair and angling my head the way he wanted it. His hard lips slanted over mine again and again. I strained in his hold but my mouth met his, welcomed him, sought each slide, lick, and nibble he dropped on me. When he twisted away for a breath, I followed, nipping his lip until he rejoined the action, his biceps bunching and flexing.
“Fuck, yes.” He growled in my ear, tugging on the lobe before shifting lower down my body.
My heels dug into his lower back, thighs I didn’t remember moving wrapped tight around him. My hips ground without shame against him even as my hands twisted to free themselves.
“We’re over.”
He pushed my bra cup aside with his nose and latched onto my nipple, sucking hard. My back bowed, offering him more of my freed breast. His other hand released my hair and yanked the other dress strap off, the fragile fabric tearing. Cupping and squeezing my swollen flesh, he hummed low in his throat. I couldn’t think past his hands, his mouth.
Lifting his head and pulling on the pebbled bud until it popped free, his stormy eyes seared mine with dark promises.
“We’re just getting started.”
I glared, bit my lip, and bucked again—whether my hips were begging for more or trying to push him away, I couldn’t tell.
“Let me go.” Dear God, don’t stop.
He shook his head, his eyes daring me, but he released my wrists. My body gave
him the answer he wanted though when I rocked my hips restlessly, and he closed his eyes and dropped back down to my breasts, sucking and squeezing. I panted with each delicious flick of his tongue and pull of his lips, the sting of his teeth twisting me tighter, making me forget everything but where we connected.
My hands fisted his shirt, yanking, and he raised up, tearing it off with one hand and throwing it to the floor. I dragged my nails across his back, pulling his head closer to my chest.
“Stay.” The pain in that one word sliced deep into my jagged emotions.
I shook my head, but pressed closer.
“Don’t go tomorrow.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re done. I won’t do this again.” I clung to my convictions and his hard body with equal desperation.
He moved, ripping my dress farther to bare more skin for his mouth to explore.
“You’re wrong. We’re gonna do this all night.”
I was torn, knowing this was wrong, but wanting one last time with him. One last time to burn the feel of his skin against mine, his mouth, his hands, his cock—all of it—into memory.
“No!”
He groaned, rising up on his elbows to look at me through hooded eyes.
“Are you really gonna deny this? I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about with Aubrey—about going back to her—but the only woman I give a fuck about is underneath me, and I promise you, she is gonna be thoroughly satisfied before I’m done with her.”
He started to lick a trail down to my navel, my dress destroyed, split at the top and bunched at the bottom, when I caught his chin and made him look at me.
“I was there today. I fucking saw you carrying her.”
He paused—the moment frozen, dark and intense between us. We were both breathing hard from arousal and anger and uncertainty, and the tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill over.
“You were there today? In Charleston? At the marina?”
I nodded, my heart stuttering in its sprint under my ribs.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”
I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. “You’d made your choice. It was obvious.”
Soaked (The Water's Edge #2) Page 2