“I bet his dick is real though,” Jenna said and shoved me toward the VIP. “You should go find out, Lacey,” the blonde giggled. Even though she and Denise went out every weekend and hooked up with any guys they wanted, I wasn’t like that. She knew it too.
“What? Why me?” came my gasp. But my stomach twisted in knots at the idea. This guy didn’t just have a big dick, he was hot in that older guy way. From what I could see from across the room, his dark hair was brushed with silver at the temples and his body under the suit looked tight and fit. No steak belly on him.
“Yeah, you should,” Denise chimed in, playfully pinching my butt. “This is the perfect chance for you to have a little fun before you lock yourself back up in the library. He’s hot and you look totally cute tonight.”
I sighed. Sometimes, I don’t even know why or how these girls and I are friends. We’re so different in every way. They love to party and have sex while barely getting by in school, while I’m focused on my books, intent on graduating with honors.
But somehow it works. I love them and they love me. And right now, they were set on proving their love by siccing me on some stranger in a suit.
“Come on, guys,” I protested. “You know that’s not me.” But the longer I stared at the stranger, the more my pussy tingled. What would that giant piece of meat look like outside of his pants?
Denise pinched my butt again, making me jerk.
“I see that look on your face, Lacey. You totally want him.”
Jenna passed me another shot. “Liquid courage, baby doll.” She grabbed my hand and practically forced the liquor into my mouth. The shot slid hot and quick down my throat, warming me on its way down and settling in my belly like a small flame. My body flushed and I was already starting to feel the effect of the drinks, getting spacey and loose, head swimming.
“Go get him, Lace!” Denise nudged me again in the direction of the VIP.
But not so quick because a smarmy voice blared in back of us.
“Hey, what are you girls doing?”
Oh no, what the hell? Mister tattoo-face bartender appeared at the table and draped an arm each around Denise and Jenna, grinning at them and leering at me. That was all the excuse I needed to get away. I didn’t want to be near the bartender, especially since up close, I could see that he was totally soused and already grabbing my friends’ private parts. Gross.
So taking a deep breath, I made my way over to the guy, ass swaying in Jenna’s four inch stilettos. My dress brushed the tops of my knees and was one of my sexier outfits even though Jenna said I looked like a librarian in it. At least I’d left my glasses at home.
Concentrating on walking in the unfamiliar heels, I made my way through the crowd and up the flight of stairs to the VIP area where the guy sat alone watching dancers gyrate under strobe lights.
“Hey,” I said when I arrived after what felt like forever. Oh no. What a lame greeting. Maybe I should have said something sexier and coy, like “Heeey,” or “Heyyyy?”
But the damage was done, and besides, liquor was now running like a river through my veins. Looking at the alpha, my body tingled, sizzling with a burn.
Because up close, he was even hotter than before. Like crazy, mind-blowingly hot. Definitely over forty, with more gray in his hair than I saw from across the room. He had a wicked cleft in his chin and gleaming blue eyes.
And whaddya know, but the alpha was expecting me.
“Hey, princess,” came a low, smooth rumble. Bright blue laser beams ran all over my body, touching me everywhere. My tits, my waist, and even under my skirt where I felt myself getting wet just from his focused attention. “What can I do for you?”
Oh god. He was the kind of guy you’d see in GQ with his suit and handsome face, an expensive watch that might have been a Rolex on a thick, masculine wrist. His hands were big and powerful, fingernails manicured and clean. I shivered and imagined him running those palms all over my body, touching everywhere.
But what was I thinking? This guy was way out of my league. He probably had a girlfriend nearby or something. Or at least a hundred other girls prettier than me ready to do anything he wanted.
So I mumbled and looked down, words tripping out of my mouth.
“Um…do you want to dance?” came my blurted question. Oh god, oh god, how lame! It was like we were at a Sadie Hawkins dance, and I was the tongue-tied awkward teenage girl asking out the hunky football player.