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What if I was bad at sex?
By the time he reached me, my posture had withered slightly, and the knots in my stomach were no longer from desire, but from trepidation.
His eyes narrowed as he reached me and then that cocky smirk grew.
“Don’t get shy on me now, darlin’.”
Oh my God, heaven help me, he had an accent. His thick southern twang came out smooth as butter and melted all my unease. Fuck me, but I was a sucker for a man with an accent.
If he called me sugar, I might fall off this stool.
He moved in closer, his lips grazing my ear. “Whatever’s goin’ on in that head of yours, I can fuck it out of you.”
God, he was bold. And maybe for another woman it would be a turnoff, but for me, it was exactly what I needed.
With a surge of adrenaline, I pulled back enough to make eye contact. “Is that a promise?”
His eyes flared with heat, and any hesitancy I had evaporated.
“Oh, darlin’, you bet your fine ass it is.”
“And how are you gonna do that?” I didn’t know who I was right now, but I was thankful for this playful boldness that was so completely out of character for me.
That smirk made another appearance and he glanced around the room, his gaze locking on something to our left. I followed his line of sight to the sign for the restrooms.
“You game?”
Stealing some of his confidence, I slid off my stool, grazing his body in the process, and then walked straight to the bathrooms. I didn’t glance behind me, and there was a chance he was just standing by the bar watching me look like a complete fool, but I was going to trust my gut on this one.
I pushed open the door of the women’s bathroom which was blessedly empty. The door had barely shut when it opened again and he came inside, closing it and flipping the lock. His dark eyes stared me down, and he shook his head slowly before rubbing his hand along his sharp, chiseled jaw.
“You’re unexpected, ya know that?”
“Good unexpected?” I asked, thankful my voice didn’t quiver and reveal how out of my depth I was.
His gaze locked on mine as he closed the distance between us. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. “Oh yeah.”
And then his lips were on mine. He kissed me like he’d already commanded every private part of my body, like he knew me intimately. It was a kiss that demanded submission. His lips were firm and his tongue rough as he pushed it into my mouth. I accepted it willingly, a moan escaping as my knees shook from the pure possession of his kiss.
My fingers gripped his forearms, holding him tightly, still afraid this was a dream and he was going to pull back any moment.
This was the single best kiss of my life, and there was no way I was letting him pull away now.
But pulling away appeared to be the last thing on his mind. Instead, he growled, gripping my thighs and lifting me up. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist as we crashed against the wall. One of his hands moved under my ass to continue holding me as he ground his thick, hard length against where I wanted him most. The other came up and held my throat, gripping ever so slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough for me to know he was in charge.
I should’ve been surprised, or maybe alarmed—no man had ever done that to me before—but instead, my clit throbbed and my panties were soaked.
“Lift up that skirt for me, darlin’, and show me that pussy I’m dying to get inside.”
I moaned, my hips gyrating against his with a nearly uncontrollable urge. It felt so good to rub against the seam of his jeans. But I was also eager to feel him, so I unwrapped my hands from his neck and shimmied my skirt up as he held me firmly between his body and the wall.
We both looked down at the wet spot on the front of his jeans where I’d been grinding against him.
“Fuck, you are perfect,” he said, his voice so ragged my confidence soared.
I did that to him.
“Wanna taste?”
