Sammi
7:54 PM FRIDAY
Fuck, I love tequila. This is quite possibly the greatest tequila on the face of the Earth.
It’s certainly the most fucking exotic. Where else are you going to get tequila, or any liquor for that matter, with a fucking snake in it?
Bangkok, Thailand. I love this fucking city.
The tequila burns all the way down, which is exactly what I want it to do. It makes me feel better, and it makes it easier to forget shit. It’s even making the current company appealing.
And I didn’t think it was possible for any amount of alcohol in the world to do that.
I look Lock over and don’t even realize that I’m biting my lower lip.
That sandy blond hair looks as smooth as silk. His ocean blue eyes make me want to dive in head-first. Then there’s the way that the scruff on his face only makes his smile look that much sexier.
“You know I can see you staring at me, right?” Lock asks, eyebrow raised.
I blink a couple of times then have the good sense to blush and then turn my eyes away from his awful, scruffy fucking Chris Hemsworth face.
My focus shifts from him to Mysti and her Celine Dion-esque companion. Mysti is fawning over the impersonator and—for the time being—looks happy and content.
Ladyboy Celine Dion wouldn’t be my first pick for Mysti May’s next paramour, but I’m happy for her. Her love life is a colossal shit show of unspeakable proportions—so if she wants a fling with a Thai ladyboy who can perfectly lip sync to “My Heart Will Go On”, who am I to stop her?
Speaking of shit show…
Becky and Liam are up on the stage, putting on a show that nobody is going to forget for a very long time. We should have known that this would happen when the performers pulled them up on stage a couple of minutes ago—this is Vegas all over again.
Liam has his tongue down Becky’s throat, and Becky is grinding on Ladyboy Janet Jackson while giving a Liam a hand job through his pants. And I’m fairly certain some of the onlookers are playing with themselves as they watch.
As if the city wasn’t hot enough, those two had to go dial it up to eleven.
I look down at the bottle of cobra tequila in my hand.
Thanks for giving me an awkward lady boner.
Percy is somewhere out back with the performers—I think—with her new pet monkey. I don’t remember when she bought it.
Hell, she might have just found it and claimed it as her own. It’s hard to tell at this point. But for now, she seems to be the one who’s on their best behavior.
Relatively speaking.
“You having fun yet?”
I turn back to the hunky Aussie.
He looks at me from over the bottle of his Singha.
Our eyes meet, and I really hate myself for wanting to fuck him right here and now.
I hate his smug fucking grin. I hate the way he looks like he lost his razor two weeks ago, and his face is thanking him for it. And the way he looks at me with those eyes—I hate that most of all.
Especially considering the way it’s making my pussy ache.
I shouldn’t want him. I don’t want him. After the shit that fucking Eggs put me through earlier, I don’t want to fuck anyone right now.
Especially not Lachlan fucking Williams.
Except I do. I so fucking do.
And even though I know it’s bad…but between the show on stage and the tequila in my system, I find myself not really caring.
Stop thinking about it, then. Drink. Drink and forget, bitch.
“Could be better.” I take another sip of my tequila. My eyes never leave his while I lick my lips. “Could be worse.”
“There’s no pleasing you, is there?”
“There are plenty of ways to please me,” I say, because I’m drunk, and he’s hot, and tonight has been a clusterfuck, and I just want him to kiss me already.
“Is that so?” His interest is obviously piqued. “Enlighten me then, Sammi. How’s a man like me gonna please a woman like you?”
“If you have to ask, then there’s too much for me to teach you in one night.”
“Funnily enough…” Lock leans in, licking his own lips. “I’m a fast learner. Try me.”
I’m staring him down like I’m a Great White shark hunting a seal. My focus is purely on him. Him and his lips and that scruffy fucking chin of his.
Try him? Oh, I’ll try him alright. I’m just about to tell him so when Becky and Liam sit back down at the table.
“Oh, my god,” Becky giggles. “That was fucking fun.”
Liam tugs his shirt back on and looks down at his crotch. “Fun enough that I’m going to need a fresh pair of trousers, love.”
Becky squeals and hops on his lap. Round two begins with them promptly—and Lock and I turn our attentions back to each other once again.
“So, you’re saying that you’re easy to please.” He picks up where we left off.
“I’m easy, at least,” I say with a smile.
We take a drink at the same time, eyes locked on each other. My greens on his blues.
He finishes his beer first and slams the bottle on the table.
I barely swallow my tequila in time to feel his cold, wet hands cradling my face. His lips crash into mine like it’s a head-on collision on the freeway.
It’s intense, raw, and passionate. It’s everything you could possibly want in a kiss. It’s everything that a kiss should be.
It leaves chills running up and down my spine. My arms are covered in goosebumps. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
It’s unlike any kiss I can ever remember.
‘Remember’ being the key word here.
His lips pull away from mine, and I whimper.
Can you fucking believe that? I fucking whimper it was so good.
When he pulls away, I’m licking my lips just to savor his taste.
I open my eyes, expecting to see him looking at me with that smug fucking grin on his face, but all I see is Mysti and Ladyboy Celine Dion making out at the table across from us and an empty seat where Lock should be.
I look over at Becky. She’s grinning at me while Liam makes love to her neck. I raise an eyebrow. She points at the table, mouthing something.
“Look out below.”
Then I feel Lock’s lips on my thigh.
My pussy throbs and aches at the touch. My brain, as fucking nonfunctional as it is, tells me that this is not the right place to be doing this.
But the tequila? The tequila says that I don’t care.
I lift up the tablecloth.
My eyes fall on Lock between my legs. He looks up at me with that grin I expected.
“What that fuck are you doing?” I mean to sound pissed and annoyed, but my voice comes out husky and wanting.
“Testing your theory.”
Oh, so now he has jokes.
“Here? In public?”
“Why not? You wanted a good time.”
A tiny woman who looks like a six-hundred-year-old Thai version of Tina Turner takes the stage to the sound of thunderous applause.
I cannot even begin to tell you how thankful I am for this applause right now. All the insane clapping masks and drowns out the hungry moan that I let out when I feel Lock’s lips kissing my clit through my panties.
I look down under the table again, and all I can see are his broad shoulders. His head is up under my fire engine red dress, and the scruff on his cheeks is tickling the inside of my thighs.
The thrill of it all has me nearly exploding like a fucking geyser.
“You’re fucking bad,” I hiss at him.
But I don’t do anything to stop him, either.
From across the table, Becky gives me a thumbs-up and grabs my bottle of tequila from me.
Up on stage, the Tina Turner impersonator has started singing What’s Love Got To Do With It in Thai. If it wasn’t for the music itself, I’d have no fucking clue what song it was.
“Ooooohhhhh, fuck.” There’s a tremble in my thighs, and I grip the edge of the table.
Lock’s pushed aside my black lacy underwear, and his tongue has found my swollen clit.
I was already incredibly fucking soaked from the kiss.
Now, I’ve reached a whole new fucking level of wet.
His tongue is moving up through my folds slowly. Like he’s licking the tallest fucking ice cream cone ever made.
Lock’s tongue reaches the underside of my cli, and gives it a firm flick that makes me feel like Zeus threw a lightning bolt at me from Olympus.
I’m orgasming. I’m fucking orgasming in the middle of this goddamn bar—and I’m loving it.
I’m loving every fucking minute.
I’m loving it so much that as soon as the orgasm subsides, another one starts to build in its place.
If Lock makes me come again…oh, god, the dulcet tones of Ladyboy Tina Turner won’t be able to drown out the sound of the next orgasm. I won’t be moaning then—I’ll be fucking screaming.
I reach under the table to lift my dress from his head and grab a fistful of his hair.
It’s just as silky smooth as I thought.
“I fucking hate you right now.” My voice is so full of desire for him that even I don’t believe it when I say it. “You gorgeous, stupid, beautiful, horrible—”
“Why? Are you not pleased?”
“Oh, I’m pleased,” I moan—then whimper as his finger slips into me. “I’m just not happy about it.”
His finger twitches, burying itself deeper in my cunt. I bite my lip and slam my fist down on the table.
“God,” I moan through my teeth.
“Is that what you’re calling me now?” he chuckles. “Sammi, darl. I’m flattered.”
Then his lips return to my aching cunt. He’s kissing my clit just like he kissed me earlier. I’m on the verge of drowning in him—and with how wet I am, he’s probably about to drown in me right back.
It’s like I’m underwater, trying to swim for the surface, but his tongue and lips keep pulling me deeper. Its maddening, torturous, and exciting—all at the same time.
I can feel his finger sliding inside me as he explores my pussy. Slow thrusts rub right up against the right spot.
Yes, that one.
Asshole not only knows exactly where it is, but he knows just how to play with it.
It makes me hate him and want him and hate him all that much more.
My toes are curling inside my Louboutins. I’m so fucking close that I feel like I could reach out and grab it.
I finally break the surface and take in a lung full of air.
My knuckles begin to turn white, the harder I grip the table. My thighs shake uncontrollably.
Under the table, I can feel him eagerly licking at me. I can even—just barely—hear the slurping sound as he attempts to claim every last drop of my honey for himself.
Ladyboy Tina Turner and I hit the same high note when I come for him. She’s singing it, I’m screaming it while my cunt throbs and I hold Lock’s mouth in place.
Lock’s still grinning when he returns to his seat.
“How’d I do?” he asks. My honey is still glistening on his lips and chin in the glow of the stage lights.
“My theory holds,” I say with a shiver.
“Fucking love science,” he laughs. “Want a taste?”
He offers me his finger—the one that was just stroking my G-spot a second ago.
And either I’m too drunk or too horny or a little bit of both, because I don’t even hesitate. I pop it into my mouth, and I lick his finger clean.
“Christ,” Lock swears.
There’s a growl in the back of his throat as I suck his fingertip between my lips. It makes me wonder what he’ll sound like if I suck on…other things.
“Wanna get out of here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
We’re out of our seats in an instant. He takes one of my hands in his. With his free hand, he points at my bottle of tequila.
“Bring the liquor,” he commands.
I snatch it out of Becky’s hand as we head for the door.