Can't Fix Cupid

“I can get it for you,” he says, but I shake my head.

“I’ll be quick. You stay here and watch my ass sway as I walk. I want to know if it’s an A plus or if my form needs improvement.”

He seems appeased with his new duty, so he settles against another machine, hands in pockets as he watches me go.

Turning back to the bar, I make my way over to the tables. I have to be quick and stealthy about this. I’ve never attempted to Lust this many people before, but I’m here, there’s a love song being sung over a microphone, the lighting is low and smoky, people are tipsy and high on the chance at striking it rich, so it seems like a perfect opportunity to try.

I take a deep breath, and I blow. And blow. And blow some more.

Beautiful pink tendrils escape my pursed lips like ribbons, mixing with the cigarette smoke and magenta mood lighting.

My cupid mark tingles as the vapor settles around people left and right. I keep blowing, one breath after another, until I make it all the way to the bar, and then I turn back again, saturating the air with one more pass.

By the time I walk out of the bar area and reach Warren again, I’m a little lightheaded from extensive exhaling.

Warren arches a brow. “Change your mind?”

“Huh?”

“About the drink.”

Whoops. “Oh! Uh...I just really wanted you to watch my ass.”

He chuckles and takes my hand. “Mission accomplished.”

“How was it?”

“Your ass? Definitely an A,” he tells me.

“Thank you,” I say with a pert nod.

I cast a look over at the bar nervously, hoping that it worked. But maybe there were too many people and I didn’t put enough juice out, maybe I did it wrong, maybe—

“Wow. What got into them?” Warren asks as my eyes go round at the scene in the bar.

They’re like animals in there. One lady is now sitting on top of the table, and the guy she’s with is motorboating her. Two other guys near the bar are making out hardcore. A good half a dozen people, men and women alike, are swarming the stage for Miss Sultry Singer, and her crooning voice cuts off at their imminent arrival. There’s even a chick trying to climb over the bar to get to the bartender. All around, people are going at it.

I grin secretively before turning to Warren. “Must be that eighties music.”

His eyes move away from the scene. “Must be,” he says as he starts leading me away.

I’m elated when I feel my cupid mark start tingling up a storm. Sev better be feeling this right now, because that power play was orgy-level magic. I think I just gave that singer an unintentional harem. But let’s be real, she’s going to enjoy it.

“Where are we going now?” I ask Warren, turning away from the bar scene just as security gets there to start prying people apart. Shame.

“I’m taking you to play poker,” Warren answers.

A smile slips over my lips. “Aww, you remembered my list?”

“I did. And though I think there are plenty of dogs in here, I don’t suspect they’re the kind you want to pet.”

I chuckle, but he’s right. I’m getting a lot of looks as I walk by in my formfitting dress that I’m still wearing from the photo shoot. I’m either getting appreciative panting, longing puppy dog eyes, or straight up drooling. It all does wonders for my self-esteem.

But I don’t care about any of them. I lean up and arch my neck so I can speak into Warren’s ear. “The only thing I’m interested in petting right now is you,” I tell him before brushing my lips against his neck and pulling away with a smile.

He makes a frustrated groan, his hand releasing my fingers so that he can rest it on my back, his pinky teasing the curve of my ass. “Don’t say shit like that, or you’re going to make me pull you into a dark corner and have my way with you.”

I turn to him, forcing him to stop walking. I let my hands slowly run down his chest, stopping right at the waistband of his pants. “I could be persuaded to put that on my list,” I say quietly.