“Hey, guys,” I hear purred from my side. To my left, Beth is standing closer to me than to she is Ashton, her hand grazing my thigh. Looking down to where her hand has settled, I shift slightly, trying to hint that I’m not interested. Clearing my throat as I continue to shift my leg, I note that not only am I watching Beth’s hand, Ashton is, too. Interesting.
“Hey, Beth. Looks like a good night.”
“Ashton, it’s been great. I don’t know where Taylor found Lexie but she’s fantastic. It’s almost like having you here except not as much cussing.”
Beth and Ashton spend a few minutes talking about work while I finish my beer. Ashton’s body language tells me she’s less than impressed that there may be another bartender here with as much ability as her. By the time I slide my empty bottle across the bar, Beth turns her attention to me. Great.
“I should be off around eleven. Want to get together, Jameson?”
Shooting my look to Ashton, I note how wide her eyes are. Stunned. Her upper lip twitches and she stands abruptly, her stool scraping the floor. Putting my foot up to stop her from going anywhere, I turn my focus to Beth.
“Ya know, Beth, I don’t think so. Ashton and I are out and having a good time.”
“Oh! Oh my goodness!” Hands flying to her chest, Beth’s dramatics don’t go unnoticed by the patrons around us. “I didn’t realize you guys were together. That’s so great! Ash, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I’m so glad you guys finally sucked it up and got together! This is so exciting!”
So many high-pitched exclamations in some sort of apparent congratulations are loud enough I can hear them over the music and the sounds of a crowded bar. I’m about to correct Beth when Ashton steps forward between my legs. What in the actual…
“Thanks, Beth. No harm no foul. Right, babe?”
Babe? What the fuck is happening here?
Instead of giving me an opportunity to ask, Ashton turns so that her back is to me, her ass pressed against my crotch. Shifting slightly to relieve the tension building, Ashton leans back a little. Instinctively, my hands go to her hips.
“Oh, you guys are too cute! I love it! Well, I should get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ashton.”
Unfazed by the fact that Ashton is now practically laying on me, Beth skips away. Has she always been so cheery? Probably, but I’m usually more interested in getting her naked than worrying about her sing-song voice.
“You want to explain?” I whisper in Ashton’s ear. Her reaction is visible as her skin breaks out in goose bumps. She takes a step toward her stool. I grab her hips and turn her so that we’re facing each other. If I move my fingers just right, her skirt would lift enough that it would be inappropriate for public wear. “Not so fast. That little movement has made it a little difficult for me to just sit here. I need you to cover me.”
“What? Oh! Uh, sorry?”
“Care to explain?”
A huff. A puff. Ashton’s face scrunches in three different directions as she attempts to gather a response to a very simple question. She’s not looking at me but over my shoulder. My hand goes to her chin and turns her gaze to meet my own.
“Explain, please.”
“I don’t know. She was literally offering you sex. It was embarrassing.”
“For who?”
“What do you mean for who?”
“Who was it embarrassing for? You or Beth?”
“Not me! I totally don’t care. For poor Beth. I mean, who does that? It’s sad. I need to talk to her about self-respect.”
Laughing, I rest my hand back on Ashton’s hip. I note that neither of us is attempting to change this position. I also note that my dick is still not coming down from its high.
“Beth and I are friends. Sometimes we hang out. And, for your information, I can guarantee she never feels disrespected.”
Gasping, Ashton smacks my shoulder. I laugh in response and she joins me. Shifting to take a step, I halt her once more.
“Were you jealous?”
“Me? Of her? Of you?” I nod in the affirmative. “Surely not!”
“There it is again. Surely not.”
Before Ashton can respond, Taylor slides two more shots our way and winks as he walks away, tossing a bar towel over his shoulder. We both reach for our glasses and clink them together once before tossing back our shots. Patron and Ashton seem to be the perfect pairing.
“Truth or Dare, Sunshine.”
One. Two. Three.
“Truth.”
“Were you jealous?”
“I plead the fifth. Now get your paws off me, I have to use the bathroom.”
Releasing my hands from her hips, my eyes follow Ashton as she weaves her way through the crowd toward the restrooms. She was jealous. She staked a claim even if she’s playing it off like she didn’t. Oh yeah, things are most definitely shifting.
Tequila makes me do really bad things. In the past, it’s made me choose the dare, make the first move when I’m lying next to a man I have feelings for, and on an occasion or two maybe, just maybe, think I’m a professional fighter and some small-town version of Ronda Rousey. Not that I’ve been in an actual fight, but it’s made me think I could be.
Tequila also makes me do other things. Things like flirt, unabashedly flirt. Or, things like quietly thanking whoever designs this model of car. The backseat is smaller than normal, at least it feels that way, and I can feel the warmth of Jameson’s skin on my own. Mostly, tequila makes me want to plant a big kiss on Mr. Larson, the cab driver, for having this ridiculous unicorn in the backseat forcing me to sit this close to Jameson and him having nowhere to place his arm but behind me and an excuse for me to rest my head on him.
Tequila plus Ashton equals bad decisions.
Or, really good decisions.
I’m not sure what came over me when Beth approached us at the bar. Some, Piper specifically, may say I saw green. Oh, it wasn’t green. No, that was good old-fashioned red. I saw red. I wanted to scratch my friend’s eyeballs out with each brush of her hand on Jameson. With each purr or whatever the hell sound she was making toward him. When she basically offered up her pantyless vagina to him, I had enough.
Jameson can say I was jealous. I wasn’t. I was floored. I flirt, we all do in our industry, it’s part of the game. But, I don’t offer it up right there in the middle of the room. Who does that?
Drawing me from my thoughts, I feel Jameson’s breath on my neck as he speaks. “Why are you so tense?”
Shivering as his breath tickles the tiny little hairs on the back of my neck, I whisper a response, “It’s a little cramped back here.”
Laughing, Jameson shifts a little. I assume he’s trying to make room for me but all it does cause me to fall into him.
“Hey, Mr. Larson, do you want to tell us again why this thing is back here?”
“That, young man, is my granddaughter’s birthday gift. I haven’t made it home today so she’s along for the ride this evening.”
“Yes well, this unicorn is not making it easy for two people to sit back here. I wish you had let Jameson sit up front with you.”
“It’s fine, Ash. Ignore her, Mr. Larson.”
Mr. Larson responds by turning the volume up, leaving Jameson and I to, well, for lack of a better word, snuggle in the backseat of the cab. God, he smells good. And he’s so solid. It’s like leaning against a piece of solid muscle. As I’m having this thought, his hand begins to push my hair aside. Shifting slightly, I do little to move away from him and instead find my hand resting on his thigh.
Yep, solid muscle.
Having moved my hair enough to gain access to my neck, his hand begins to massaging. Sweet heaven. Much to my dismay, a low moan escapes. Jameson responds in kind. Closing my eyes, it takes me a minute to realize my hand has moved so it’s nestled between both of his thighs. Vagelina is fully awake now. Thanks, tequila.
“Here we go, kids. That’ll be seven eighty.”
I start to re
move my hand from Jameson’s leg, but he stops me by placing his hand on mine. Slightly turning my head, I catch his eye. Something is there that I’ve seen before. Something that has my breathing increasing and my pulse racing. Lust.
“I’ve got this. Here you go, Mr. Larson. Thanks again.”
The cool air filters through the car as Jameson opens the door. He offers me his hand as I turn my legs to exit. Placing my much smaller hand in his, I smile at Mr. Larson as he waves us off and pulls away from the curb.
Not letting go of my hand, Jameson leads me to the front door. Key in the lock, he pauses for what is only a half of a second but feels much longer before turning the lock. The way my pulse is racing, I wonder if this is what adrenaline junkies feel like. Instead of stepping away from the door to let me enter first, Jameson releases my hand and walks into the house, leaving me to follow.
A dim light from the table lamp has cast a soft glow through the room, but the softness does nothing to lessen the tension in the air. The glow is enough that I can see a silhouette of Jameson as he turns to face me, his arm over my head closing the door with a single motion. The sound of the door closing startles me and I jump a little, my back hitting the door.
Stepping into my personal space, Jameson’s arm lowers so it’s level with my shoulder while his free hand twists a tendril of my hair that’s started to curl from the humidity in the bar.
“Why are you so jumpy?”
“I, uh, I, uh … I’m not jumpy,” I respond with a wavering voice, staring just over his shoulder.
“Is something making you nervous, Ashton?”
Squaring my shoulders and meeting his gaze, I’m momentarily rendered speechless. Jameson’s hair has fallen in his face a little; that damn tuggable hair. Even in the dim light, I know that his eyes have changed colors again, full of mischief. Closing my own eyes, I envision the shade of blue they’ve turned to. When Jameson is angry or frustrated, they’re a deep midnight blue. When Jameson is turned on and his passion at its peak, his eyes are dark as the night. Enticing and intimidating, his eyes tell his story, leaving no question to what he’s feeling.
“Very few things make me nervous, Jameson.”
“Good.”
One syllable.
One word.
That’s all it takes before our lips collide. They don’t meet. They don’t connect. They collide. My hands grip his biceps as his hands comb through my hair, tugging slightly at my neck, forcing my head back, my neck exposed. That simple tug sends electric shocks through my body and straight to where I need relief.
This kiss is everything we are: passionate, fierce, aggressive, sweet, and frustrating. I need more. My hands move down to the hem of his shirt, lifting it, exposing his torso, tugging it from his body. The break from our kiss is seconds but feels like an eternity. I begin unbuttoning my shirt while his lips move to my neck.
God, this is good. Part of me wants to stop. This is a step we can’t take back. We aren’t kids anymore. Brain, shut off. Let me have this. I need this.
Once my shirt is unbuttoned, I drop it to the floor around us and begin to kick off my boots. Doing so makes me a few inches shorter; I’m now chest high on Jameson. Craning my neck, I realize I look less sexy and more awkward. He must sense my discomfort because before I can express anything, Jameson has his hands under my arms and is lifting me level. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, my skirt rising.
I’m so turned on it won’t take much for me to completely come undone. With each touch, caress, and nip of my skin, I can feel an orgasm building. Jameson continues his glorious assault on my neck as I run my hands through his hair, causing him to moan, the sound vibrating against my skin. His strength is evident as he holds me up with one hand, my back flush against the wall.
Tequila also makes me fearless because there is no way this is safe. That fleeting thought is pushed out of my mind as Jameson’s other hand finds its way under my skirt. This time, it’s me who is moaning. As his fingers glide over my panties, I can feel how wet I am. One flick of his finger and I’m going to have the first non-self-produced orgasm I’ve had in months.
Thank fuck.
Relaxing, I reach for the button of his jeans. Quickly releasing the button and lowering his zipper, my hand finds its way in his boxers. The sounds filling this room are erotic and only adding to how turned on I am. Pulling the hand that’s been driving me crazy through my panties from under my skirt, Jameson reaches around to his backside. I don’t need to hear the package tear to know what he’s doing. Both of my hands grip his shoulders as his lips devour my own. His tongue connects with mine and I fight my need to beg for more. For everything he will give me.
No moment has ever been like this. No man has ever pushed me this close to the edge by simply being. Jameson does that to me. He has me on the verge of an orgasm by his lips on my neck and his fingers on my panties. The moment the word panties crosses my mind, I feel them tug to the side, a slight tearing of fabric breaking through the heavy breathing filling the room.
Pulling his lips from mine, Jameson bends slightly, his eyes meeting mine. Permission sought.
No words exchanged, I lean forward and kiss him.
Permission granted.
With a single thrust, he enters me, filling me. A gasp escapes as my head falls back, exposing my neck. I expect his lips to rest on my neck, but instead his hand captures the side of my head, pulling my attention to him. Our eyes meet.
His hips thrust, each movement pushing me. I’m so close. The orgasm that has been boiling beneath the surface breaks through. Gasping, I never tear my gaze from Jameson’s. As I’m coming down from my high, his pace increases, each movement drawing pieces of the lingering orgasm back to the surface. By the time the second orgasm hits, my skin is slick with sweat. I feel myself slipping. My grip tightens on his shoulders. Before I can slip from my perch, Jameson reaches his climax. An animalistic sound fills the room.
My hands go to his hair when he rests his head in the crook of my neck, fingers running through strands damp with sweat. A hum vibrates on my neck, where his lips are. Feather-light kisses along my collarbone cause a shiver to run down my spine. Expecting Jameson to put me down, I begin to unfasten my legs from his hips when he responds.
“Nuh-uh.”
Turning us toward the hallway and never removing himself from me, Jameson carries me to his bedroom. Gently laying me down on the bed, he kisses me lightly before walking into the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush as my feet twist on themselves. Realizing I’m laying here in my bra, torn panties, skirt, and boot socks, I groan in frustration. This is not the picture of sexy one would want to portray.
Just as I’m removing one and reaching for the other sock, Jameson walks back in the room in only his boxer briefs. The moonlight cascading a light on him makes him look like a Greek God. Or a sculpture. Yep, that’s it. Perfect and hard, his body shows how much work he puts in to maintain his physique.
Placing a towel on the bed, he kneels between my legs and lifts one foot to remove the sock that remains. His hands run up legs before they reach for the bottom of my skirt and gently tug it from my body.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
I should be embarrassed. I just let Jameson fuck me six ways to Sunday.
Against the front door.
I’m not embarrassed. I’m turned on just thinking about it. How I want him again. So soon. Easy, he’s Jameson.
Laying here, in only a bra and a pair of torn panties, with Jameson between my legs, I let them fall open slightly. I pray my hair looks sexy and more like a halo around my head than a bird’s nest. By the way his expression changes from serious and kind to virile and fire filled, I’d say it does.
Lifting my foot so that it’s wrapped around his hip, I tug Jameson forward. He smiles as he hovers over me.
“You need something, Sunshine?”
Grinning, I run my hand down his chest, tugging slightly on his nipple, sen
ding a visible shiver across his body. My hand lingers slightly before descending on his glorious abs and down to the band of his boxers. Slipping my hand inside, I wrap my hand around his now hardening cock. My grin grows to a knowing smile as his forehead drops to mine.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he sighs as I begin stroking him.
He had it his way and now it’s my turn. Pulling my hand from his boxers, I place both hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him on his back as my body follows to straddle him. I reach around to unclasp my bra, tossing it to the side as I lean forward to take one of his nipples in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it before nipping it with my teeth. A gasp from Jameson only encourages me to continue.
Kissing my way down his torso, I tug down his boxers as my long hair teases his skin with each movement. The sounds coming from him confirm what his hard cock has already told me. I am completely in control and, for once, there is no doubt about what I want and who I want to do it with.
Running my tongue along his shaft, I slowly take him in my mouth. His hips rise slightly as his hands go to my hair. I swirl my tongue as he gently moves my hair away from my face. Looking up at him, I catch his eye just as I hollow my cheeks and suck. His eyes close as he gasps. I continue to lick and suck while he encourages me with the sounds of appreciation coming from his mouth. When his grip tightens slightly in my hair and his hips begin to pump quickly, I know he’s close.
Slowly I pull my head back, withdrawing him from my mouth. I reach for a condom on the night stand, opening the package with my teeth. I slowly sheath him as I watch him come down from the almost orgasm, his breathing labored and his eyes hooded as he watches me. I rise up onto my knees and am able to position a leg on either side of him, straddling him as I take him in my hand and slowly guide him into me. Pausing slightly, I look down at him, where my hands are resting on his chest, and smile slightly as I begin moving. His hands grip my hips, my head falls back, and I feel the burn start low in my belly as we find our rhythm.
Tequila & Tailgates (A Country Road Novel - Book 2) Page 13