I slide my tongue along my bottom lip where the taste lingers and glance over at the booth. Our eyes connect, a hot pull across the room. I raise my glass in a toast… right as?—
Buzz.“Oh, gawd,” I breathe.
“So good, right?” Benny says.
“Amazing,” I manage, referring to more than just the drink.
That first hit was just a tease, though. The next one takes it up a level. I clench my ass cheeks and catch Dice’s devious expression—a smirk that could melt vinyl and saysYeah, I did that.
I’m highly sexual, but I’ve always been more adventurous on my own than with a partner. That trust hurdle. Anal play is something I began exploring a year ago, finding that it intensifies my orgasms.
Dice cues up En Vogue’s “Free Your Mind,”like it’s a message. Benny and Chelsea are busy at the bar. Drinks are flowing. People spill onto the dance floor. And I just sit back, sipping my cocktail real slow, legs pressed tight, watching Dice. Daring him to give me more.
Zap!An intense buzz jolts through me. I grab the edge of the bar to keep from levitating right off the stool. He grins, tapping my buttons. Literally. Syncing the next round of pulses with the music. “Tear the Roof Off” sends the floor—and my ass—into chaos. He leaves the vibe on through George Clinton’s “Knee Deep.”
I can’t sit still. If I don’t get off soon, I’m gonna drown in a puddle of my own juices.
“Hey,” some random guy says, sidling up next to me. Mid-twenties, Abercrombie-type. Clean jaw. On the hunt. Probably smelling my pheromones.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.
“I’m good,” I say, tipsy on pleasure, a grin curving one side of my mouth.
His eyes drop to the hem of my skirt, hiked up my thighs, hips winding on the stool. “You like to dance?”
“I do.”
Buzz.A higher tempo. Ooh, Dice being petty for real. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, fighting a moan.
“You all right?” Abercrombie asks.
I could toy with this young pup just to poke the bear, but retaliation is a bitch. And Dice holds all the power in his fingertips.
“I’m fine. Enjoy the rest of your night.” I stand, leaving my empty glass and the man, making my way toward Dice, hips swaying, ass humming, pussy wet.
I slip inside the booth’s side door and close it behind me.
Dice’s eyes are molten. “Trying to make me jealous, Web?” he asks, low and rough.
I set my purse down, not answering.
He cranks up the tempo and a full-body tremor steals my breath. “Fuck, Dice!”
He dials it down. “Answer the question. You liked flirting with that dude while I’m playing with your ass?”
“No.”
He shuts it off and I moan in protest.
“Put it back on.”
“Gimme the truth.”
“It was nothing. Harmless.”
“Don’t play with me, Lot.”
“I’m not. But I want you playing with me.”
