Tequila Smash

by Aliyah Burke

  No sign of Ellie. Probably in the back. A thought that stayed with him right up until he spied Dogfish behind the bar taking orders. The last time he saw this was when Ellie wasn’t even in the building.

  The place wasn’t overly busy, so he wasn’t sure why the owner would be tending bar, since he was more of the type who stayed off to the side and made sure order reigned.

  Rachel brought his beer. “Here you go, hon.”

  “Where’s Ellie?”

  She shrugged. “No clue, she didn’t come to work today.”

  Not what he wanted to hear.

  “In fact,” she continued. “She’s out for at least a week.”

  Even less what he wanted to hear.

  “Thanks.”

  She watched him, one eyebrow up.

  “Yes?” He sipped his beer, wondering if this was how animals at the zoo felt to have people staring so hard.

  “Thought you’d be out the door after her. Maybe you want someone with more experience?”

  “I’d like to finish my beer.”

  Rachel headed off and he drank, faster than usual but not as swift as he could have.

  He played a game of pool then headed out. Although Dogfish made drinks, Bennett swore the crusty old Marine behind the bar watched him closely. Once he reached his truck, he slid behind the wheel and had shut the door when his phone rang.

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you, man?”

  Drummer.

  “On my way to Ellie’s. What’s up?”

  “So, you’re not going to be home?”

  “Not for a bit, no. Feel free to use it, just no women.”

  “Roger that. Thanks, man. I need some rest.”

  Of that, he had no doubt.

  “We’ll do lunch tomorrow.”

  “Good idea. Thanks again for the crash pad.”

  Disconnecting the call, Bennett began driving. He pulled into a parking space and took a gander around. He didn’t even know which—if any—was her car.

  Walking up the stairs to her floor, he tried to slow his brain from assuming the worst about where she stayed. Not to mention why she wasn’t at work.

  Before her door, he rubbed a hand over his head. Time for a haircut. More nerves. Bennett knocked.

  No answer. He tried three more times, all resulting the same way. No Ellie.

  Frustrated, he headed back down the stairs.

  As he reached for the handle of his truck, a black SUV pulled up and out she stepped from the back. If his keys had been in hand, he would have dropped them.

  Holy fuck.

  Ellie bent to speak to the driver and all his blood rushed south to gather in his groin. Her slender body had been covered in a light gauzy material that swayed seductively with the gentle breeze moving around him.

  The seafoam green color had been shot through with a dark green metallic thread that sparkled in the lighting. The handkerchief hem gave him flashes of her toned legs. The halter top hooked around her neck and teased him with side glimpses of her breasts. Tasteful and sexy as fuck.

  He smiled when he realized she carried her shoes in one hand. God, he loved her legs. She stumbled a bit and held up her hand as if that would balance her out, laughed, and began to walk once more.

  Slightly unsteady, her smile beamed at him.

  “You are so hot,” she said, reaching him.

  “Thank you.”

  “I love your eyes. I can’t tell you that though, shhh!”

  Definitely drunk. He caught her as she wobbled once more. Bennett shook his head. Turning his back to her, he crouched. “Climb on.”

  “Like a horsey.”

  She squealed and jumped up, she completely missed the first time and nearly fell on her ass, her laughter bubbling free. He waited for her to try again and she wriggled her ass, tongue out the side of her mouth as she concentrated for this jump. She made it, barely but stayed on by wrapping her limbs around him.

  Maybe this wasn’t the best decision he made. Now her heat pressed against him. He cupped her ass in his hands and headed for the door. She wriggled closer.

  “Right,” he muttered. “Just like a horsey.”

  All he could think about was her straddling him, riding him with reckless abandon.

  She nuzzled his neck, reminding him there were other uses for walls aside from holding up the roof. They were there to hold up the woman wrapped around him as he fucked her, hard and fast.

  “You smell yummy.” She flicked her tongue along his neck and he shuddered, nearly dropping her. “Taste even better.”

  His cock throbbed painfully. Damn, he wanted her on her knees before him, those incredible eyes wide and on him as he sank his dick between her lips. Mind on the task before him, he made the trek up to her floor and readjusted her to pluck her clutch from her hand. After fishing for the keys, he unlocked her door and carried her inside.

  She dropped her shoes and giggled as he set her on unsteady limbs.

  “Thank you for being so gemmen…gentlo…gimmer… fuck. That word, what is it? Yes, I know. Nice.” She accented that with a sharp shake of her head. “Nice.”

  “How much did you have to drink?” He locked her door.

  Eyes wide she worked her mouth. “You carried me in here, you’re strong.”

  “Not like you weigh a lot, come on, Ellie.” He turned her toward the bedroom. “Right,” he said in a louder voice. “Like a married couple.”

  She pursed her lips into an “o” as she removed her earrings. Then she shook her head so hard, she nearly toppled over.

  “Not me, been there. Not going back.”

  It irked him to know she’d been married. What kind of ass would let this woman go, or what had they one for her to leave the marriage? Then again, now she was single.

  She cocked her head to the side once he helped her regain her balance.

  “I want to like you. I already do. Dreamed about you too.” A wicked sexy glint filled her gaze. “We do lots of things in the dreams. Dirty fun things.”

  Damn, she was killing him.

  Forcing back his own lust, he steered her toward the bedroom. “How much did you drink tonight?” Not that he gave a damn, but it was something to keep her from talking about what they did in her dreams.

  “Not much. I don’t think. Like a lot of little ones. You know those tiny jiggly ones.” She hummed and scrunched her face up then snapped her fingers. “Jell-O shots, that’s what we call them. They were so yummy. I had some red ones, orange, blue, red, green. Red.” She rubbed her stomach. “I liked the red ones most.”

  He was beginning to get the picture. She continued to tell him the colors of her Jell-O shots or if it had been straight tequila. With her tiny stature, he wasn’t shocked she was so wasted.

  “You know that song with the naked grandma?”

  She flopped back on her bed, testing his weakening resolve once more as her tanned legs fell open, tempting him all over.

  “Um, no. No, I’m fairly certain I know nothing about a song with the naked grandma.” Bennett had no fucking clue what she was talking about. His gaze had zeroed in on her spread legs, he was hardly following the conversation.

  “No? How don’t you know it?” She gestured wildly with her hands. “It makes her clothes fall off. Hot country singer.”

  Finally, her words began to make sense. “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off.”

  She clapped. “Yes, that’s it.” Ellie gestured at herself. “That’s me.”

  This was another test of that thin control, that’s what it was. “Is it now?”

  “Yep.” An overly dramatic sigh. “I had more on when I left. Even my shoes didn’t stay on my tootsies.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. Tootsies? Really? “Come on, stand up.”

  She wriggled her toes. “Okee dokie.” She wobbled but stood there as he’d directed.

  Swallowing hard, he dragged the zipper on her dress down with one hand as he supported her with the other. She shimmied and the cobwebesq
ue material fell to her ankles, leaving him staring at her in a soft peach bra—strapless—and matching hued panties. His pants grew uncomfortably tight.

  Reciting a cadence he used to run to, he pulled a shirt on over her head before directing her to the bathroom and instructing her to brush her teeth.

  “Who were you out with?”

  She spit and rinsed before meeting his gaze.

  “It was a bachelorette party for a friend of mine.” A wry expression. “She’s getting married, you know. All excited.” She frowned. “That’ll change.”

  Okay, he picked up on the major anger there.

  “Why do you say that?”

  She shook her head and sucked her lower lip into her mouth briefly, drawing his attention back to that adorable pout.

  Ellie left the room and flopped onto the bed seconds after she made it there. “God, it’s all spinning and I have no money. I gave it all to the stripper. All of it.”

  He struggled to hide his laughter. Ellie sounded so bloody distraught by that fact.

  “Goodnight, Smash.”

  She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “I’d really like to fuck you right now.”

  Yeah, he’d really like that too.

  She ran her hands under her shirt, touching herself. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Christ. He stared unabashedly as she rubbed herself through those sateen panties, the material growing darker as she grew wetter.

  “Thick cock. Thrusting. Driving. Pounding.”

  She writhed beneath her own touch as her panted words filled his ears. His cock was near bursting.

  He rubbed the heel of his hand over his shaft and groaned. Ellie arched and moaned before settling back. The room was full of his harsh breathing and her softer mewls. He undid his pants and stared at her, she watched him, eyes overflowing with lust.

  “Yes.”

  She flicked her pink tongue over her lips. Ellie pushed her finger into her pussy and a small shudder overtook her. He lost his clothes in record time, his control on the floor with his jeans and shirt.

  “Wanna fuck you,” she breathed. “I wanna ride you like a bucking bronco. Need to feel your cock in me.”

  God yes, please do.

  Seconds later as she lay pressed against him, her entire body sagged deeper into him. A soft snore reached his ear.

  His laugh had no humor in it. Figured. Here he was, hard as steel with a woman lying against him, more sprawled on him, who was damp from fingering herself who was asleep.

  Not just out but dreaming of sex as she moaned his name, thrust against him, and all around spiraled his life into one of the seven circles of Hell. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Five

  The pungent aroma of coffee burst into her torrid sexual dream where she and Bennett were engaging in many sexual pleasures. She loved coffee, but the fact it was interrupting her sexual fantasy…that pissed her off.

  She dragged open her eyes only to squeeze them shut again as her room began spinning like a tilt-a-whirl. Couldn’t be like a normal merry-go-round, no, not for her. It had to be the up and down plus spinning.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, willing her stomach not to rebel and hurl the who-the-fuck-knew-what contents in her stomach up and out. If it happened, she’d probably die in her own vomit since she had no energy to go anywhere.

  That begged the question, why did she smell coffee? Who was in her place?

  “I hope to God I didn’t do anything embarrassing last night.”

  She gathered her waning strength and pushed up on all fours. Hell, even that was a feat unto itself. Her head hung low and she prayed she didn’t list left or right, although it felt as if she were. Which direction she wasn’t sure, but she sure as hell didn’t feel square and straight. The room continued to spin and she gulped hard then bit the inside of her cheek.

  The metallic tang didn’t soothe her stomach. In fact, it churned it more.

  “Come on, Smash. Let me help you.”

  Either she remained drunk and dreaming of Bennett or he was here in her place witnessing her in all this hangover glory.

  The way my luck runs, this isn’t a dream.

  “Go away,” she bemoaned, not moving.

  Her lack of movement wasn’t because she didn’t need to get up and pee, but because she wasn’t sure she could walk when the world was spinning like a ball on a pool table. The scent of coffee didn’t move nor did the eyes that bore into her, making her skin prickle. In a pleasant way.

  “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am. Open up those baby blues and look at me, Smash.”

  “Why are you calling me that and why the crap are you yelling at me?”

  A deep chuckle that didn’t help her head any. Or her desire, which made her even more upset when she realized the thought of rocking on his dick made her stomach churn.

  “I’m not yelling at you, you’re just suffering from your hangover.”

  “No shit, Sherlock, talk quieter. Thank God I don’t have to work today.” She clasped her head in her hands. “Go away so I can suffer in my own private misery.”

  “Nope. I brought you coffee.”

  “You’re still talking. And so loudly, too.”

  She wanted to sink beneath the blanket and sleep until the pounding in her head went from a big drum to the gentle triangle pinging. That much she could handle.

  The mattress dipped as he joined her and this time she not only could smell the drink but feel the heat from the steam wafting up under her nose. Groaning in defeat, she cracked open her eyes, focusing on the dark liquid in the offered mug.

  It still spun but not as fast. She allowed the aroma to flow around her and she moved her attention from the moving liquid to the hand of the man holding the mug. Strong thick fingers, clean square nails. She loved his hands, even the small crisscrossing of scars he had on the backs of them, barely discernable from the covering of dark hair. Not that he had tons of hair on his hand, but the scars were very faint. She just liked his hands. They were full of promising strength and protection.

  She took the drink from him and tried a small sip, just to make sure that her stomach wouldn’t rebel and she’d embarrass herself further by hurling all over him. The drink was perfect, just how she typically drank it. Little cream and a lot of sugar.

  “Thank you,” she managed to croak out after taking a few more sips. Each one bigger than the last.

  “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “You have no idea. What the hell was I thinking drinking all that much last night?”

  “I’m guessing it comes with the territory. Bachelorette parties have been known to get rowdy.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so? Been to many, have you? The stripper? Jumping out of a cake?”

  “If I was a stripper, would you stuff my G-string?”

  Her bark of laughter had her wincing as her head pounded, reminding her that wasn’t such a great idea. “I’m positive your G-string is stuffed enough. You don’t need any help from me in that area.”

  “Glad you noticed. Come on, up you get.”

  “I want to go back to bed.”

  “No can do, have plans for the day.” He gripped her elbow and helped her up.

  She pouted, curling her fingers tighter around the mug as if it would magically remove this damn hangover. “We do?”

  “Yes. I need you showered and dressed so we’re not late.”

  She whimpered when he plucked the coffee out of her hand. “It will be in a to-go mug. Shower.” His eyes darkened. “Unless you’d like me to help with that.”

  Well, yeah, she would, but at the thought of sex that would make the headboard move she figured she’d just get sick all over again.

  “Rain check.”

  She didn’t catch his muttered response as she shuffled her way to the bathroom. Somehow, right now, she figured this was how Methuselah would feel and move if he were here. About as spry as dry kindling and as fast as tar.

>   Soon she stood under the hot spray and groaned as she balanced herself with one hand on the wall. For the life of her she couldn’t recall when she ran into him last night. He hadn’t been at the party, that much she knew. But when had he come to her place? And if he had been there all night, why was she in clothing and not naked as she’d woken up the other night he’d stayed over?

  So many questions and too much for her struggling thought process at the moment. She soaped up and washed her hair. As she rinsed, she thought about the plans they had.

  I don’t recall making any plans for today. I think I may very well have drunk away my memories.

  Some of them, at least. She had no problem remembering that man in her bed. In her. With a firm shake of her head—which led to another round of nausea—she shut off the water. She wasn’t about to masturbate in there while he was outside the door waiting for her.

  Rubbing down with a towel, she took her time dressing and left the bathroom. Sure enough, Bennett stood there, waiting, his gaze overflowing with hunger.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Was debating if I had time before I got out of the shower to masturbate.”

  Apparently, it wasn’t just her memory that had lapses. Her filter must still be out drinking to let that one slip by.

  Mortified, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed he would be gone when she opened them. No such luck. And he wasn’t even across the room anymore. No, he was right in front of her, toes of his boots touching her bare ones.

  Slowly she gazed up at him, dragging her attention over the scruffy jawline, the thick eyelashes, and those damn gorgeous eyes that burned her with their intensity.

  “And what did you decide?”

  His voice was nothing more than a rasp, and she had a hard time deciphering the words.

  She’d already let it slip, no sense in pretending she hadn’t. He didn’t ignore the vibrator on her bed, chances were he wasn’t going to ignore this.

  “I wasn’t doing it while you were out here.”

  He blazed a trail from her eyes to her lips and back again. “For the record, there’s always time for you to masturbate. And if you want my help, all you have to do is ask.”