Throughout college, there were more labels for groups on campus. Even at work I’ve labeled my co-workers, basing my expectations of them on my opinions. I never considered what kind of person that makes me. Grammy would say, “A pretty crappy one.” Despite her drinking and smoking, she was a God fearing woman, and never judged a soul. She’d give her last dime to a beggar with a smile.
“You surprised me, Battle McCoy. Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles, chewing on the corner of his lip. “All right … Let’s lighten up this game. You wear a thirty-two-C-cup.”
I blush, but pick up the bottle and drink before setting it down with a smirk. “I have two.” He nods for me to continue. “You were starin’ at my boobs earlier at the bar.” He drinks without hesitation. I laugh and add, “You do not wear a thirty-two-C-cup.”
He lifts the bottle again, grinning and drinks. After he sets the bottle down, he says, “You liked me watchin’ you when I was in the chute.”
So, he was watching me. Why? I was actually terrified, but I also liked it. I drink. It’s my turn and I wonder if he’ll be honest. “You felt the attraction between us when you were watchin’ me.”
His jaw tightens. I wait, knowing even if he did feel something, he won’t admit it. To my surprise, he brings the bottle to his lips and tips it back. I can’t contain my smile.
He sets the bottle down, his gaze never drifting from mine. “You have beautiful eyes. They’re like emeralds.” I almost laugh at his cheesiness until his thumb presses into my lips. “You want me to kiss you.”
He pulls his thumb away, leaving a stamp of his touch in the warmth left behind. I drink, my heart sputtering furiously. I’m well beyond a good buzz. Logic and reason are nowhere to be found, and for once I don’t care.
I lightly trace his lips with my index finger. “You want to kiss me.”
The amber liquid sloshes around the bottle as he throws it back and chugs a few swallows. He leans in close to me. When our lips meet, mine part slightly and I feel warm liquid spilling into my mouth from his. The liquor burns my tongue. Holy shit. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.
My sex throbs, begging for more. I swallow and open my mouth wider as Battle sweeps his tongue over mine. He tastes like whiskey, cedar and smoke. His tongue slowly explores my mouth, making me crazy with desire. He sucks on my bottom lip before ending the kiss. I can barely breathe, managing only small, shallow gasps. I’ve never been kissed like that, nor have I’ve ever been more aroused.
His hands cup the sides of my neck as he stares into my eyes—his, stark blue and deeply intense, rage with a greedy hunger that loudly announces where he intends to take this game.
I lick my lips in anticipation of another kiss, but it doesn’t come. His hands slide slowly down my neck to the top of my blouse. The sticky night air warms my skin, but his touch makes me shiver. His long fingers curl under the fabric on both sides of the buttons, and he tears the blouse open. Buttons clink across the hood of the Mustang, falling into the dense brush below.
I’m captivated by his primal display, frozen still, and unable to catch my breath.
Battle shoves the blouse to the sides, exposing my chest and nude bra. My nipples pebble under the lace and throb, begging for attention. I’m speechless, my panties soaked, and my inhibitions lost. His head dips and he licks my earlobe before he says, “You want me to fuck you.”
I do. I want him to fuck me. Is that wrong? I can’t think clearly. I should tell him no, but I’m too turned on to deny myself this moment, or too drunk. Fuck it. We’re consenting adults. I’m not a slut. I’m physically attracted to this gorgeous man. I will not be ashamed for admitting it. I bring the bottle to my lips and suck down a giant swallow. Battle doesn’t move as I set the bottle down.
The grin on his face worries me. Is he messing with me? “What?”
“Your turn. I asked the first question. You ask the last.”
How am I possibly going to follow up what he did to me? I’m not a complete prude. I have experience. Wyatt and I have had some wild nights, but nothing compares to what Battle does to my body. I’m positive he hasn’t even begun.
I take in a controlled breath as I reach for the button on his jeans. With a smoldering grin, he leans back against the window, providing me easier access. I make short work of the button and zipper. My teeth nibble my bottom lip as I reach under the waistband of his boxers and wrap my hand around his long, hard length. He releases a sexy, quiet groan. When my thumb sweeps over the soft skin of his tip, his breath hisses. The sound increases my confidence. I nestle into his side, stroking him base to tip and breathe into his ear. “You want to fuck me.”
I can’t believe I said the words. The desire to flee returns. This isn’t me. As I look down watching my hand work him, I decide this is who I want to be. If only for tonight, I want to forget what’s expected of me.
He grips my wrist tightly and removes my hand from his cock. Quickly, I’m flipped over, my shoulders against the window and my butt on the hood. He straddles me. The nearly empty bottle of Jack catches me by surprise as he lifts it in the air. The two of us polishing off the bottle nags at me, like a warning the night should end now, before I do something I regret.
As his other palm glides over my bare stomach, I cast the thought aside. I want regret. I want him—dirty, raw, and uninhibited. He pours the remaining liquid into my navel. The alcohol puddles over and tickles as it runs down my sides. Battle lowers his head and sucks the liquid from my navel as I melt further into the Mustang.
His tongue trails up my stomach until he reaches my breast. Hot breath warms my skin as his strong hand yanks on the lace of my bra, exposing my left nipple. He draws the sensitive flesh into his mouth, sucking hard until it’s mildly painful. It’s a welcoming pain, one burning more in my pussy than my breast.
“Battle,” I moan, lifting my hips.
He sits up, positioning himself between my thighs on his knees and licks his lips, “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
Goose bumps break out across my skin as he trails a fingertip softly up my inner thigh. He doesn’t stop until he’s under my panties, stroking my velvety flesh.
“Oh, God.”
“So ready,” he says in a husky whisper. I gasp when he removes his finger.