Chapter Eight
Liz
Amy gulped down her tequila shot and slammed the glass back down on the bar. “Your turn!” she shouted over the music.
I eyed my shot glass warily. This would be my second shot in twenty minutes, and I was already feeling the buzz from the first one.
“Come on,” Amy said. “It’ll help you lighten up.”
Lightening up, I definitely needed. The week had sped by, and I hadn’t heard from Jamie at all. Last Friday’s sex fest seemed to have disappeared in his memory, but in mine all I had were hot touches, kisses that made me want to get naked, and the glorious, full feeling I had when he was inside of me.
I had it bad, but all that lust was quickly giving away to confusion, and maybe just a little indignation. How could we have the best sex of our lives and then not even exchange a “hello” for an entire week?
Amy waved her hand in front of my face. “Liz, you in there?”
“Yeah.” I picked up the shot glass and pounded back the tequila. “Whew!”
“That’s right, I knew you had it in you!”
We were back in Scorch, the place where her brother-in-law, Marco, was the bouncer. Definitely not my first choice of drinking venue, but it did happen to be the hottest new club in the city and Amy could skip the cover charge because of her connection to Marco. And the music was pretty awesome.
“Hey,” Amy said, “do you think Mishka’s going to give us all raises if We Scream Ice Cream breaks 500,000 by December?”
“That game will never make it that far,” I said. “I hate to sound so negative about one of our own apps, but Mishka didn’t put enough money into getting the bugs worked out ahead of time. I kept telling her to, but, you know how she gets.”
“But… We Scream is supposed to be our biggest game this year.”
I nodded. “Which is why she was in such a rush to put it out there.”
“Well, that’s shitty.” Amy slumped on her barstool.
“Agreed.” I signaled to the bartender for another round and slid a twenty across the counter.
He winked at us and rushed our shots over, then slid my twenty back toward me. “Compliments of the two gentlemen at the end,” he said, tilting his head.
I slowly tracked the direction of his head tilt, and my gaze landed on none other than Jamie. Dammit, why couldn’t I escape him? He’d given me the cold shoulder all week—and I knew he was in town this time—then expected to send me tequila and have everything be better all of a sudden?
“Hot Neighbor Alert,” Amy stage whispered.
“Shut up. We don’t have to take these shots.”
“Too late.” She grabbed hers and gulped it down.
Sighing, I figured at least the alcohol would help fortify me for the confrontation to come. I raised it and sent a sarcastic smile in Jamie’s direction, then pounded it back. He smiled, clapped his friend on the shoulder, and sauntered over with the friend in tow.
“Amy, Liz, how nice to see you again,” Jamie said.
Amy smiled prettily. “You, too. We were wondering where you’d gone. Who’s your friend?”
“Aaron Smithson,” the other guy said. He was tall and debonair, even in a pair of jeans. Not usually Amy’s type, but she was totally checking him out.
Amy immediately grabbed Aaron’s arm and dragged him over to the stool next to her, leaving me with Jamie. Instead of sitting down next to me, though, he crowded into my space.
“I can’t help it,” he whispered. “You’re like a magnet, Liz. Every time I see you, you just draw me in.”
“A magnet.” I snorted. “Such poetry.”
Maybe the extra shot had been a bad idea, after all—I was being a little too free with my opinions, and my sarcasm. I hated confrontation, but apparently the liquid courage was giving me a sharp tongue.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant this week,” he said.
“You think?”
He nodded seriously. “Aaron dragged me out tonight because I’ve been a whiny asshole. And I think I was a whiny asshole because I was missing you.”
He was now standing almost directly between my legs, causing the bottom of my dress to hike up high on my thighs. When I shifted forward, wanting to be closer to him, I could feel that my panties were already wet.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked.
I thought about it. I did. I very much wanted to be closer to him, moving with him. But was I willing to dance with him and act like the whole week hadn’t hurt my feelings? He’d ignored me for five days straight.
But he was here now. So close, so hot. The tequila buzzed through my system, making me feel warm and languid and energetic all at once.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll dance with you.”
He led me onto the floor, and our hips moved to the beat of a song that felt familiar enough but had enough changed in the remix that I couldn’t tell what it was. All I could tell about it was that the beat was powerful enough to carry me into the music without caring what I looked like or who could see us. My hands were everywhere, snaking up the bottom of his shirt, gripping his thigh when he nudged it next to mine. His hands were on my hips, on my ass, and skating along my ribs to just below my breasts. Sex on the dance floor, but without any actual sex.
The song changed to something else, and he took my hand, led me away from the crowd. We found our way to the hall leading to the restrooms. There was no line, and it was darker here.
“I need my mouth on yours,” he said.
And then his lips pressed against mine, and another scorching kiss ignited between us. I pressed into him, rubbing myself against his erection, which was heavy and long between us.
I pulled away from the kiss, gasping. “I need you inside me.”
Suddenly, a man and woman burst forth from an unmarked door in between the two restroom doors. The girl gave me a knowing look and said, “It locks from the inside,” before the two of them walked off, laughing and smelling of sex.
Jamie looked at me. “I think opportunity just gave us an open door.”
I tugged on his hand. He didn’t need any extra encouragement.
From the light in the hallway, before we closed the door, I could see it was some kind of supply closet. There were boxes of toilet paper and cleaning solution, and what looked like a box of condoms. Then Jamie shut the door and I heard the click of a lock. His arms were immediately around me again, his mouth probing mine. He lifted one of his hands to palm my breast over my dress, and then with an impatient growl, he yanked the offending fabric out of the way.
“No bra?” he murmured.
“Doesn’t go with the dress, so nope.”
“You should get more dresses like this,” he said, then lowered his mouth to my nipple.
“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god,” I said.
He brought his other hand up under my dress, trailing it over my thigh. I could scarcely breathe as he moved his fingers over the outside of my panties. I wanted him in there so bad. Needed him inside me. He dipped a single finger under the edge of my panties and then brought it to my entrance before slowly—too slowly—pushing his way in.
I bucked against him, wanting more contact, wanting more of him. “Please,” I said, “I need you.”
“I didn’t bring any condoms. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
I let that thought tickle my ego for a moment before saying, “I thought I saw a box of condoms, but I must have been imagining it, right?”
He laughed. “They’re for the condom machine in the men’s restroom.” He used the flashlight on his phone to locate the box, then helped himself to one. In seconds, he was back in my arms, and we were right where we’d left off, kissing, hands everywhere. This time, though, he lifted my dress up all the way, then dragged my panties down my legs. I sucked in a breath of anticipation when I felt him nudge against my entrance.
The loud bass from the dance floor swallowed my cry when he entered me. He felt so. Damn. Good. I felt my eyes roll back and it was as if the regular, everyday Liz had disappeared, or rather, been consumed by the lust that only took me when I was around this man. Jamie had that power over me. One look, and I was ready to tear off my clothes and climb on his cock.
The pressure and pleasure inside of me built, working alongside the music playing from the club. Faster, louder, harder, until I was shouting Jamie’s name and moaning, and he was chanting mine. The orgasm took me by surprise, and I felt like my body would burst from the pleasure. I shuddered in his arms while he finished, clutching me tightly. He pressed a single kiss to my nose, then turned on the light so he could find my underwear. He handed it to me, a giant smirk on his face. While I slid it back on, he grabbed some toilet paper from an open roll on the shelf and wrapped up the condom, then tucked himself back into his pants and fastened them.
We left the supply closet, hand in hand, and saw another couple kissing near the bathrooms. I winked at the girl when she looked up at us. “The door locks from the inside,” I said.