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A slow smile touches his face. “Saw you out there on the dance floor. Bought you a beer.” He starts to hand me the second beer bottle and then pauses. “You like that lime crap?”
I make a face before I can stop myself. “Not really.”
“Good call.” He flicks the offending lime toward a nearby trash can and then swipes his thumb over the mouth of the bottle before passing it to me. “Gotcha covered.”
Free beer is always good, right? We drink in strangely companionable silence for a moment.
“You come here often?” I joke lamely when the whole not-speaking thing starts to feel uncomfortable.
He bumps my shoulder companionably with his, gesturing toward the dance floor with his bottle. “Worse places to hang out.”
“True,” I agree. “But I hadn’t pegged you for a clubber.”
He takes another swallow of his beer. “I like watching.”
He’d said he’d spotted me on the dance floor earlier—did he watch me? Did he like what he saw? Is that what this beer is about, or is he still trying to track down Rocker and he figures buttering me up is a shortcut? Since there’s no way to know for certain, I decide to just enjoy the scenery for now because looking at Rev is pretty darn awesome. I let my gaze trail the length of his body, taking him all in—and there’s lots to admire. His faded jeans hug powerful thighs and the T-shirt beneath his leather vest outlines a chest that promises to be downright perfect. Whatever the man does with his free time, he doesn’t sit around on his ass all day. His big body radiates power, deadly but relaxed enough for now that I don’t sprint for the dance floor or the safety in numbers it offers—which makes me as stupid as the slowest gazelle in the pack, because Rev is a predator and we both know it.
About three inches from the bottom of my beer, the band starts in on one of my favorite songs, making my feet itch to be out there on the dance floor. A lazy smile tugs at the corner of Rev’s mouth. Whatever he is tonight, he’s in no rush and somehow I’m in no hurry to return to Jack, either. When my buzz dies down, this will probably worry me.
His shoulder bumps mine gently. “You in a dancing mood tonight, princess?”
“You dance?” Shoot. I sound breathless.
He takes another swig from his bottle. “Do I look like I dance?”
“Uh—no?” I inspect him again, looking for any reason to say yes. “But you’ve got two feet, right? It’s not hard.”
He looks down at me, reaching out to circle my wrist with his fingers. Heat shoots through me. Jack and Samantha probably think I’ve fallen in or gotten lost, and yet I don’t want to move away from Rev. Of course, he’s hot and I’m buzzing, but even so I know that standing here with him is a bad idea.
“Come on.” He tugs me out of the hallway, then heads for one of the booths lining the side of the bar. Stupidly, I follow along. I do manage to fish in my purse and find my phone so that I can shoot off a quick text to Samantha.
Met friend. BRB.
Friend is a misnomer, but since Samantha didn’t spot Rev at the birthday party, she wouldn’t know who he is anyhow.
Rev slides my purse down my arm and tosses it toward the back of the booth. The little pink square at the end of a silver chain doesn’t hold much. I slide in after it and then wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Now the only way out is through Rev. Not that I really think he’d hurt me, but I barely know him.
“You look nice,” he says, snagging my phone and sliding in after me. Somehow, I’m not surprised when he looks down and reads the message I just sent.
“Thanks. Maybe we should talk about boundaries.”
He looks up and winks at me. “If you’ve got hard limits, you tell me.”
Did that sound sexual to anyone else?
“We what you said?” He gestures toward the phone in his hand and then tucks it into my purse.
“Friends?”
“Yeah,” he says. My beer is mysteriously empty, so I snag his and help myself to a drink. “Never had a girl friend before.”
“I’ll go easy on you,” I tell him and finish off his beer.
His fingers graze the bare skin above my knee. “You here with someone?”
My pulse rockets into overdrive.
“Kind of.” I blurt the words out. Think them over. “Not really. Yes. No.”
He gives me a slow smile. “Hard to be all of those things.”
“I’m here with friends,” I say firmly.
He nods thoughtfully. “You should know that if you stay here, I’m gonna want a taste of you.”
I stiffen before I can stop myself. This is not the kind of thing you discuss with an almost total stranger. “You did not just say that.”
His fingers move a little higher. I slap them and only end up smacking myself. Real smooth. “That’s disgusting.”
His grin gets broader. “You not a fan of oral, Evie?”
Great. Now my face and my pussy are on fire.
“Not really my thing.” I blurt the words out before I can think them through.
“Why not?” He sounds thoughtful, rather than pissed off or offended, so I tell him the truth.
“I’ve tried it, but it wasn’t all that.” I give my previous boyfriends full points for enthusiasm, but oral sex just isn’t the fireworks-inducing pleasure that my Cosmo assures me it is. I can and have lived without it for years. There’s just something about the enthusiastic licking and the slurping that put me off. Reminds me of puppy dogs or something, and that’s not sexy at all.
Rev gives me a look. He’s totally still, but somehow I get the feeling he’s about to pounce. “We really friends?”
“I think so.” I nod cautiously. Probably shouldn’t have finished his beer because now the room whirls gently around me and a pillow sounds like nirvana. Bet Rev would let me put my head on his chest. Bet he’d let me do a lot of things.
“Then I gotta tell you something, as a friend.” He pulls me onto his lap, settling my back against his chest as he rests his chin on my shoulder. “Fucking waste, your not liking oral.”
He doesn’t sound mad that I’ve shot down his friendly offer, but this is undoubtedly my cue to go back to my own table. Still, when he pulls me tighter, the closeness doesn’t feel scary or like a threat. More like he’s putting himself between me and the rest of the world, just in case shit starts happening. Which it probably does in his world, now that I come to think of it.
“So show me how you like it,” he rumbles in my ear.
“What?” Pretty sure I sound as dazed as I feel.
He tugs the empty beer bottle away from me and sets it on the table.
“Kiss me the way you’d like to have your pussy kissed,” he offers. “Promise you one thing, Evie—I’m a fast learner.”
“But I don’t like it,” I point out with the careful logic of the slightly inebriated. “And we’re just friends. Friends don’t go down on friends.”
Or have conversations about oral techniques in the middle of a bar—but, details.
He sounds sincere when he says, “Nothing wrong with one friend making another feel good.”
I think about that while he runs his hands down my back, cupping my butt and lifting me until I’m sitting on his dick. The only things between us are my panties and his jeans. Or wait—maybe he’s pro-underwear and not naked underneath his denim? The beer must be talking, because I skim my fingers under the edge of his jeans on an exploratory mission. Not commando. Okay. That’s one question settled.
“This is a bad idea,” I inform him even as I turn and straddle him. I can’t be that drunk, because I manage it without sticking my knees in any unfortunate places. Or maybe that’s because his hands guide me and it’s so easy to let him take control.
“Never a bad idea to tell me what you want.” The words sound like a promise. I lose the thought as I slide my hands up his chest and over his shoulders to cup his neck. God, his skin’s warm. I wonder how he feels about licking, because right now his dick is aligned with my pussy and it feels absolutely perfect. “Plus, sweetheart? I’ve got one rule. The game stops the minute you tell me you’re not having fun.”
That’s a good rule and I tell him so.
He nudges my chin up until I meet his eyes. “You’ve got my promise on that.”
“And you always keep your promises.”
“Damn straight.”
He’s smiling when he says it, but the words are like a safety line. Nothing too bad can happen now. He’s said so.
“First thing? I don’t like to rush,” I whisper, leaning up.
“Got all the time in the world,” he tells me.
No.
He’s so wrong.
All I have is right now, this one stolen moment.
I cup his head with my hands, one thumb tracing the soft line of his ear. Must be the only place the man isn’t hard, because I’m definitely sitting on an impressive erection and his chest isn’t any softer. I tug his head down toward my mouth before I can think too much. He helps me by cupping my butt and boosting me up his chest, his fingers skimming the curve of my butt just below my panties.
“I don’t like to go for gold right away.” I brush my mouth over his throat. He’s inked in so many places. In addition to the dark bands on his wrists and forearms, he’s got more ink on his throat.
“This is pretty.” I trace the black swirl nearest his ear with my tongue.
“Got nothing on you,” he growls. “Girls are pretty.”
“Mmmm.” I eat him, kissing my way toward his ear.
I lick him and he groans.
“Pretend you’re a girl,” I whisper. “And let me call you pretty.”
“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “Asking the impossible, princess. I’ve definitely got a dick.”
The tip of that dick bumps against my clit in a bull’s-eye. Nothing subtle about the move, but somehow the very bluntness of it makes me hotter. Plus, he grabs my hips when I buck, holding me rock-steady in his hands. My internal temperature rockets up to on fire and it’s all I can do to not grind down on him and come right now.
“Are we still playing show-and-tell?” he asks with a hoarse groan. “Because you’re giving me ideas.”
“Shut up.” I lick his ear lightly, teasing him. “This is my show.”
“For now,” he agrees, making it clear I’m only in control because he’s letting me be. That apparently turns me on, too, because my pussy clenches, reaching for the dick I’ve decided it can’t have. Still, since he asked for a lesson in how to lick my pussy, I need to be thorough, right? Just in case we ever end up putting this plan into action, I’d hate to be the one to give him bad advice. So I go back to work on his ear, sucking hard on the lobe until he’s the one bucking up. Imagine that. What works for the princess works for the big, bad biker.
“I think we’re gonna be real close friends.” His hands trace the top of my thong through my dress, and when he tugs gently on the tiny strip, I feel it right in my clit. My panties are his own personal leash to my libido. God, I should get up. Should go. Should—
“You like it slow,” he whispers roughly, and my thoughts grind to a happy halt. Right now, I’d like it however he wanted to give it to me.
“My fantasy,” I whisper back. “My rules.”
“You want to hear about mine?” He wraps my hair around his hand, pulling my head back until I meet his gaze.
“I have friends waiting for me.” I sound the opposite of decisive.
“Had a real shitty day, princess,” he growls. “Don’t make it worse by leaving now.”
“Funny,” I gasp. “Because mine is getting better by the second.”
“Tease,” he whispers softly, but he doesn’t sound mad any longer. “Didn’t think you’d play these kinds of games.”
I press down on him. “What kind?”
“The dirty kind.”
His fingers tighten in my hair and my heartbeat jacks up, announcing the imminent arrival of my first heart attack. We’re in public. Sure, the booth gives us some privacy, but it’s nowhere near enough for him to be all but fingering my pussy. Why don’t I mind? Why am I still sitting here on his lap, my legs hugging his hips like he’s my life raft in the Sea of Orgasm? His legs shift beneath me, the muscles bunching and pressing, and a new heartbeat explodes between my legs. Rev is dirty. Wicked. Biker. Outlaw. All the words drain right out of my head when his hand disappears between us. Oh my God, he’s going to touch me.
“Didn’t think you’d let me do this.”
His fingers stroke beneath the edge of my panties.
“Why not?”
“You usually date bikers?” His fingers move higher.
My breath catches.
“I don’t usually date,” I admit. “Tonight’s the first time in a long time for me, and I’m kind of sucking at it.”
I should care. I should feel bad that I’ve left people waiting for me at our table while I climb all over Rev like he’s the only orgasm left in town. Instead, all I can feel is the pleasure. He strokes along the crotch of my panties and my world stills and then explodes in a new beat. He works his finger beneath the edge and my pussy rolls out the welcome mat. Like he knows all I can do is wait, holding my breath and trying not to beg, he works the damp cotton against me, rubbing and pressing. They’re not even good panties, date night panties I wouldn’t mind flashing the world, but they’re my lifeline in the storm that is Rev. Just an everyday Hanes cotton thong that’s practical, sturdy and out of this world in Rev’s hands.
“You like these?” He tugs the side of my panties.
“They get the job done,” I say drily and he laughs.
“Guess that means you won’t miss them.”
He rips my panties apart with two sharp tugs and I don’t have a problem with that, either. Apparently, I’m up for whatever he wants to do tonight.
“Tell me about your day,” I gasp, desperate for distraction. I so need to put the brakes on this crazy attraction.
His knuckle finds my bare clit and presses. It’s too much, too fast, his fingers sliding over my slick, wet flesh. I feel my orgasm coming, and I want to stretch this moment out. Make it last as long as possible, because the best sex of my life shouldn’t be this short.
