“Dude, seriously! Get your grubby hands off me, I don’t know where that shit has been!” Colt said, throwing a wad of tissue at his twin.
“Will you stop being such a penis, Colt, you’re driving me freaking nuts when we should be scouting for hot women!” Zane fired back.
“I don’t need to scout, the women come to me. They can’t resist the charm that pours from my lips,” Colt said, flashing a smirk towards me.
“The only thing that pours from your lips is a boatload of BS. Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. I haven’t had enough alcohol to even think about dealing with you two tonight,” Tate said, scraping his chair against the tiled floor, leaving his seat as he made his way over to the bar.
“Y’all are cramping my style. I love y’all but you’re doing nothing for the Colt-myster!” Colt said, standing from his seat and thrusting out his hips.
I couldn’t help but snort. “Wait, Colt-myster? What the hell is that?”
I shouldn’t have asked, it would only encourage him, but I did…
“Do you need a diagram, Low?” Zane said, jumping in. “Penis, wang, cock, dick, pickle, wiener, baby maker… whatever you call the male genitals. Colt over here calls it the Colt-myster. But don’t worry, I don’t call mine anything weird.”
“Thank god.” I laughed as Tate brought over our drinks, taking his seat next to me. “So, I’m curious, what do you call it then, Zane?”
He shrugged his shoulders before smirking at his brother, “The Zane-inator.”
“Oh. Dear. God.” I laughed, throwing my head back.
“Christ.” Logan groaned, while Tate just shook his head.
Flashing their mega-watt smiles, Zane and Colt grabbed their beers from the table before making their way into the throng of people near the bar. I was under no illusion that some poor girls were about to be Zane-inated and Colt-mystered. Cringe.
“Wow,” I muttered before taking a long pull of my Corona.
“Wow doesn’t even cover… that.” Logan groaned, nodding his head towards the twins.
Turning in my seat, I couldn’t help but laugh. The guys had found their latest victims, two blonde students who didn’t look like they had a hope in hell. Poor girls.
“They must have something, I’ve never seen them go home alone after a night out,” Logan said, picking at the label on his beer bottle.
“Whatever it is, it’s working,” Tate muttered, turning towards the twins.
“Yo, blondie!” Dex hollered from behind the bar, sliding three bottles of beer effortlessly down the bar to the waiting customers’ hands. “I’m going to need your hot ass behind this bar!”
I’m sure I heard Tate growl at Dex’s comment, but thankfully he knew it was all in good fun. Dex is pretty much Ace’s twin… no filter. Speaking of Ace, I wondered where he was and if he had untied his latest conquest from his bed.
“Don’t be long, baby, that hot ass is mine,” Tate grunted into my ear, placing a feather-light kiss on the soft flesh just behind my ear.
The simple act made my whole body shudder in absolute want. He knew what he was doing. No matter how much we questioned what it was that the twins had, I knew Tate had it in abundance. Patience, desire, passion—rolled into one slow and delicious race to mutual satisfaction.
It was anticipation.
I nodded to Tate before standing on shaky legs. Pausing for a moment, I regained my balance; knowing full well it wasn’t from the small amount of alcohol I’d consumed, or how high my heels were. It was him. Tate could turn my body into jello with just the mere promise of what was yet to come.
Once I could finally move, I made my way to the door to the side of the bar. Walking into the back, I spotted Neva grabbing a couple of bottles of spirits.
“I didn’t peg you for a vodka drinker,” I said, sneaking up behind my best friend.
“Holy shit!” she squealed, all but jumping out of her skin as she tried to keep hold of the bottles rattling around in her hands.
“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help it.” I laughed, taking two bottles from her hands.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack before I’m twenty-five?! Jesus, Low!” She chuckled, pressing her now free hand against her chest. “What are you doing back here anyway?”
“Dex asked me to help out.” I shrugged.
“Really?” She questioned, eyeing my dress. “Dude, how the hell are you going to serve drinks in that dress… and, Jesus, those damn heels? You’re going to fall flat on your face!”
As if on cue, my right heel pinched against the flesh of my ankle. She was probably right.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, waving her off. “I have a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career.”
“Did you… did you just quote Liam Neeson?”
“Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you,” I said in a monotone voice.
“Yep, she’s quoting Liam Neeson,” Neva said, shaking her head as she looked up to the ceiling.
“If you let my vodka go now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you,” I finished.
“Are you high?”
“No, why?” I scoffed.
“You freaking should be,” she said, letting out a deep laugh. “Of all the people you could have quoted, you picked Liam Neeson?”
“What the hell is wrong with Liam? His voice is all husky and sexy.”
“He’s old enough to be your dad,” she countered. She did have a point.
“So’s George Clooney,” I argued.
“You think George Clooney is hot?! What’s wrong with you?” She laughed, shaking her head at me for a second time.
“There’ll be a lot wrong with both of you if you don’t get your asses out here! I’m drowning in pushed up tits and angry fists!” Dex shouted from the bar.
“Like he doesn’t love pushed up tits,” Neva said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, we need to get through some of these drink orders, Mrs. Neeson.”
“Har har! You’re a comedian,” I said, tightening my grip on the vodka bottles as we pushed our way through the bar door to Dex.
As I stepped behind the bar, I was hit with a sea of people, all of them shouting drink orders and waving money in my face. Damn idiots.
“Hey, doll face. Four Jack and Cokes and whatever your pretty self is drinking.”
Oh yeah. It was going to be a long night.
It took two hours, two hours to clear the bar of the raging rednecks mingled between the students, all desperate for a drink of alcohol. The balls of my feet ached as I slumped back against the wall of the bar. Neva was right; these damn shoes would be the death of me.
The bar had quieted a bit, some leaving to find more alcohol at another bar while others found seats and were enjoying the company and drinks. Surveying the room, my eyes landed on Tate, who was now stalking his way towards the bar.
“What can I get for you, kind sir?” I said in a Southern drawl, placing my elbows on top of the bar, leaning towards him.
“My girlfriend,” he said with a smirk. “She has these incredible legs I’ve been staring at all night, imagining them wrapped around my shoulders while I feast on her. Would you be a doll and go fetch her for me? Oh, and another bottle of Corona?”
“You’re too much, Tate James.” I laughed, grabbing a bottle, pulling the top off it and shoving a lime slice down the neck before handing it to Tate.
“You’re forgetting something,” he said, taking long pull of his drink. “I have my beer, now I want my woman.”
Before I could even blink, Tate was over the bar, wrapping his hands around my waist before hiking me up onto his shoulder, smacking my ass hard. Throwing a wink over his shoulder to his sister and Trix, he marched his way into the back room of the bar.
“Now that you have your woman, what do you plan on doing with her?” I asked playfully.
&nbs
p; Tate slowly slid me down the front of his body, stopping only when his hands cradled my ass. I threw my legs around his waist as he pushed me against one of the walls in the room.
“I’m going to do exactly as I imagined with these damn legs.” He groaned before swiftly thrusting my ass into the air, my legs wrapping around his shoulders.
“Jesus,” I whispered as Tate ran his nose down the apex of my right thigh. “Tate, not in here.”
Was he crazy? He wanted to do this now? We were in a darkened room attached to the bar, not an ideal place to be doing anything!
Tate groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of my exposed thighs, hard enough to leave bruises.
“Thirty minutes, baby, that’s how long it will take to get back to my place. Can you wait that long?” he asked, his voice sending vibrations from my thighs straight to my core.
“What about Neva’s set?” I panted, his nose only inches away from my panties.
“Her set was an hour ago, baby. She couldn’t leave the bar,” he moaned as he inhaled hard against the soft lace.
“Tate,” I moaned as he bit the skin of my left thigh.
“You have a choice, Low. Either I take you right here, right now or… you come home with me so I can make you scream over and over. Pick, and be damn quick about it. Otherwise I’ll just take you any way I can damn well have you.”
I groaned as my head fell back against the hard surface of the wall that supported me, the promise in Tate’s voice making me quiver and writhe against him. There was no doubt in my mind I wanted Tate to take me, to completely unravel me, but I knew if he did, I could become exposed.
Three months, three months of no sex felt like a damn eternity. I wasn’t a virgin by any means but I put a halt on my and Tate’s sexual relationship; it just wasn’t a good idea. Explaining to Tate why I couldn’t let him take me, own me or completely ruin me was hard; he didn’t understand. Instead, I lied. I told him I was innocent, that I just wasn’t ready. It was another lie I had concocted to keep him safe, and it seemed to work. Until now.
Do I risk exposing myself? Do I risk putting Tate in the firing line? Do I go with my heart, not my head? My head was screaming, “Don’t be a fucking fool!” While my heart was begging for me just to let the fractures of my mask crack a little bit more.
“Baby, I need an answer. Now,” Tate growled as he swiped his tongue up the seam of my panties.
Hormones, want, need, and complete lust wrapped around my mind like a thick blanket, suffocating all rational thought, including the voice telling me to back the hell away. The only thing I could hear was my heart, begging, pleading, wanting to be understood and taken by the man who could ultimately destroy me.
“Take me home, Tate,” I moaned as I felt him smile against my sensitive flesh.
My heart’s a fucking moron.
Hands fumbled.
Teeth clattered.
Moans erupted.
We crashed into his dorm room, the lust completely over taking my body as his fingers delved into the slick flesh between my legs. I had no idea what happened to my panties, but when my gaze flickered to the floor I spotted them, completely fucking ruined. I shuddered and panted as I realized the panties represented exactly what Tate could do: rip me apart, right down the seam.
My breathing hitched as fingers probed, teeth nibbled, and moans escalated. I couldn’t work out which way was up, whether I was standing or floating, or even work out if any of this was real. The out of body experience was a surprise to me. This was something I should’ve been preventing, but was I strong enough to stop it? Right now, no way in hell.
I moaned into Tate’s neck as he lifted me from the ground, my legs instantly wrapping around his waist as I quickly realized this was real. I wasn’t floating, and the only thing that was up was Tate, whose hardness was pressing against my pubic bone. I was in big trouble.
Once again my back slammed into the hard concrete of a wall, only this time we were in Tate’s dorm room, and not some seedy back room of a bar. My dress was now three quarters of the way up my thighs, and with my panties completely disintegrated, I was exposed in far many more ways than one.
Tate’s lips quickly came crashing down to mine as he rolled his hips against me; opening for him I lost any conscious thought as his eager tongue danced with my own, pulling every ounce of pleasure from my lips. Tate’s fingers threaded in my hair as his left hand cupped my right breast with only his waist supporting me against the wall. A moan ripped from my lips as Tate carried on rolling his hips against my sex, the sensation awakening every delicate nerve ending in my body. He knew what he was doing, and my god he was good at it.
“You like that?” Tate growled, adding pressure to the roll of his hips.
I could only moan in response. All coherent thought had flown right out of the window the minute he pinned me against the wall in the back room of the bar. I should put a stop to it, I should tell him I’m not ready for this, but with every roll of his delicious hips, I could barely remember my own name.
Suddenly I was crying out, his fingers sliding against the slick, wet heat between my thighs. I was panting, holding on for dear life as my body took over my mind, my tongue fighting for control against his. We were suddenly in a battle: a battle for control, domination and pleasure. Our lips broke apart, only enough to pull my dress and his shirt from our bodies.
Tate’s bare chest pressed against my still covered breasts as he rolled his hips against me once more, his lips coming back down to my own as his fingers still worked my sex. I could feel the orgasm building from deep within, filling out the hollow recesses of my body as it moved to the very tip of my toes.
The rough surface against my back suddenly changed to the soft comforter on Tate’s bed, sending my heart rate spiraling as I came back down to reality. This wasn’t a good idea; in fact, it was a fucking stupid idea. I couldn’t do it.
“Tate.” I groaned as his fingers went back to working me at a delectable tempo.
I needed to stop. I needed him to stop. Someone could get hurt.
“Tate… stop.”
His body instantly stilled above me, his eyes searching for answers I couldn’t give him. My head quickly snapped to the left, not wanting him to see the fear that shone behind my eyes.
“Baby, look at me,” he whispered, grasping my chin between his thumb and finger, turning my head back to his. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I… I can’t,” I said, closing my eyes and willing my thoughts to disappear.
“I will never pressure you into something you’re not ready for.” He pressed a feather-light kiss to my lips. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel.”
His lips, so soft, so tempting, I was a goner no matter the outcome.
“Let me make you feel, Low,” he whispered before gently pressing his lips against the hollow of my neck.
I was done for. I couldn’t control the reaction my body had to his words, to him. Instead of pushing him off me, my legs clasped around his middle. Pulling him closer to my bare core, my hips moved of their own accord, seeking the delicious friction I knew I wanted.
“I need to hear you say it, baby. I’m not doing this without your full attention.”
His voice rang out to my ears, a mixture of a gravelly husk and sweet lust wrapped around something I thought had hardened and vanished years ago, something I never knew I still owned… My heart.
My heart’s a fucking idiot.
“Make me feel,” I whispered on a shaky breath.
My eyes finally opened as Tate lowered himself down the bed, his lips gliding along my still covered breasts, kissing each peak before unclasping my black lace bra at the front. It seemed underwear was never going to be a barrier.
I watched in lust-filled awe as Tate moved lower, skimming my navel with his tongue before placing a slow, wet kiss against both my hip bones. My control was tearing apart, shred by tiny shred as he cast his hooded gaze to mine. His gaze burned against my ski
n as his hand cupped my right breast while simultaneously biting the apex of my left thigh. Holy god. The sensation rewoke the orgasm that had long faded, springing right back into action.
My hands fisted the comforter as Tate blew one long, slow breath against my sex, causing me to quiver and moan while squeezing my right breast in his hand. I waited, panting and needy, for his next move, but it never came. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I came face to face with a cocky Tate, a smirk upon his lips and my breast in his hand.
“What are you… oooh,” I moaned as his tongue ran up my sex in one sharp, swift lick.
Oh. Dear. God.
My elbows gave out as he slowly lapped, sucked, and probed me. The groans of approval that fell from his lips only spurred on the orgasm that was quickly growing in intensity. My hips bucked, begging for the friction I so desperately craved.
If I thought my mouth had no filter before, it certainly didn’t now. The moans, groans and curses that fell from my lips seemed to ricochet in the room, seemingly encouraging Tate further and further before my orgasm suddenly crashed right through me like a damn freight train.
Black spots danced in front of my eyes as I rode out my orgasm as Tate gently kissed my sex as I shook and quivered underneath his touch. Once my breathing finally became slightly more even, my gaze landed on Tate, who was smirking above me.
“What?” I laughed, seemingly embarrassed.
“Mouth of a sailor.” He smiled, kissing me fiercely, allowing me to taste my own arousal on his tongue before pulling back. “But sweet as a peach.”
My cheeks flamed crimson as I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to hold back the fear I could feel burning the back of my throat. Shit, trouble doesn’t even cover what the situation is right now. More like one gigantic clusterfuck.
“You okay?” Tate asked, raising his brow, moving a stray piece of hair from my face to behind my ear.
No. No, I was far from it.
“Yeah, I’m good.” The quiver in my voice was hard to mask.
He stared at me pointedly for what seemed like minutes, but was more like seconds. A moment of uncertainty flashed in his eyes, and for my own selfish reasons, I did the only thing I knew would keep him at peace: I kissed him.
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