“If you win, I get to see your piercing,” Chad whisper-yells into my ear, leaning in way too close, and we’ve definitely got some eyes on us now. I shouldn’t be able to smell his expensive cologne in this crowded casino. Damn, what is that? How does he smell so good?
“No,” I dismiss quickly.
“You’re no fun.” He pouts. And would you look at that; he does know the word.
“And you’re straight,” I push back, my tone less harsh than I intended as my confusion bleeds into my tone. I’ve never had a straight man so interested in my dick before.
“So? What does that have to do with anything?” he asks.
I honestly don’t know how to answer him, but it’s definitely time for us to leave this table. We’ve thoroughly embarrassed ourselves enough for the night.
I stand abruptly, grabbing the last chip Chad had left. “Come on, we’re going.”
“But!” Chad starts to protest, and I level him with a look. He immediately stops talking. “Oh! Yes, okay, let’s do that. Let’s leave!”
I don’t know what he thinks that look meant, but I canalmost guarantee we are not on the same page with how excited he sounds. I turn to walk away, and he trails after me like he always seems to. I wish it wasn’t so satisfying to have him blindly following me around. I wish I could ignore how powerful the way his complete trust in me makes me feel.
“Where are we going?” he asks, stumbling once before he confidently continues like nothing happened. Then, just like last night, he laces his fingers through mine. “Somewhere for you to show me your dick?”
I stop walking, staring at our joined hands for a moment before I tip my head back and take a deep breath. How am I supposed to have innocent thoughts when he says things like that? I swear Chad is going to be the death of me. “No.”
“Okay, can you show me?—”
“Still no.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he protests with a laugh.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need you to finish. I’m not showing you anything.”
“Just show me your tattoos! I want to see where they start and where they end, if you know what I mean,” he says suggestively.
How could that not be suggestive? Am I crazy?“You saw enough this morning during our massage.”
“Well, if you’re not showing me anything, I get to pick where we go. Come on,” Chad says, yanking me with him toward the bar. “We need more drinks.”
“We really don’t.”
“Yes, we do,” he insists, laughing again as he grabsmy wrist and tugs me toward what I now realize is a fucking slushie stand. “You owe me a round because you wouldn’t show me the piercing.”
I snort a laugh. “I don’t owe you anything, and we aren’t children. I don’t want a fucking slushie.”
“Show me the piercing and we’ll call it even.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then it looks like you’re buying the sluuushies,” he says with a delighted grin.
I let out as loud of a sigh as I can. I give up. It’s easier than attempting to win this ridiculous argument. “Fine.”
Chad absolutely beams at me while ordering two tequila slushies. And of course they don’t come in regular cups. They’re in these long, brightly colored tubes that are practically the length of my torso with giant straws.
“Do you honestly expect me to drink this?” I ask dryly.
“Yes. Because tonight I’m going to teach you how to have fun. If you get tipsy, then maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says with a wink that I refuse to think of as sexy. Then, with what I believe is his attempt at being quieter, adds, “And then maybe you’ll show me your dick.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Chad.”
He laughs before sticking his tongue out to bring the straw to his mouth. He takes his time to wrap his lips around it, gripping the long tube with both hands as he sucks the drink into his mouth. I have no idea if it’s meant to be suggestive, but it certainly is. I want to smack it out of his hand. Finally, he pulls back, letting out a contented moan that is far too sexual sounding to not be intentional.It’s like dinner all over again. “Mmmm, delicious. Your turn. Drink up.”
