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He’d taken advantage of her momentary loss of voice to drag her onto the dance floor. The crush of people, the heat, the dim lights, and the laughter had pushed her further down the blurry path of destruction. Half a bottle of champagne certainly hadn’t helped.
She’d felt it in the press of his body and the rigid length of his cock against her belly throughout Ariana Grande’s “Bad Decisions”. Who knew Superman was such a good dancer? And that his super suit was so…accommodating.
Then he’d ghosted again, dammit.
She didn’t chase men.
Period.
And yet here she was hauling ass away from the crush of people. Had there been something in the fucking bubbly? She needed to rename it Happy Horny Juice and patent it. That was seriously the only explanation why she’d been searching him out.
And the only reason her very firm, very not cheap Wonder Woman breast plate had to prove just how bulletproof it was. Christ, her fucking nipples were throbbing. Hell, everything was throbbing.
What the hell was in that champagne?
Better yet, where the hell was he?
She stalked through the large room outfitted with bats in every damn corner. There were couples smashed together whichever way she turned. Some drunkenly, some just high on lust. She understood the latter. Her blood was still on fire. Stupid man had her dead to rights and just up and disappeared.
She had half a mind to let him hold his dick.
Except she really wanted to be the one to hold it, dammit. And that was rare enough for her to play bloodhound. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time a man got her riled up enough to even contemplate getting naked.
Messing around at a party was one thing, but this? Fuck.
She stalked through the large entryway and upstairs to the small study. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, or even why she was headed that way. But she thought she’d seen Tristan escaping up the stairs, so she’d followed.
A flash of red and blue dragged her farther into the room. Hushed voices were muffled by the strumming of an acoustic guitar.
Hunter?
She frowned as a Batman costume came into view. Not Hunter Jordan—nope, he was dressed as Vlad the Impaler tonight. He was the lead singer of Hammered, and one of the groomsmen for the Halloween wedding reception. All the Hammered guys had played with the vampire theme for their costumes thanks to the bride’s affinity for bats.
She’d expected Hunter since he was Tristan’s best friend. At least he’d been in the top spot until recently. Married life and the ever-present band drama afflicting Hammered kept Hunter busy these days. And it was much more likely for Hunter to fool around on an acoustic.
But the guy wielding the guitar right now was someone else entirely.
She didn’t know Randy—aka Sparks, at least to her— even knew how to hold one, let alone how to play the opening notes to “Best of You” by the Foo Fighters. Over and over again.
Hell, she was almost tempted to start tapping her red leather boot.
Carefully, she brushed her hand over the stiff seems of her costume top. She’d bought this particular Wonder Woman costume because the top was built like a corset and could actually control her runaway boobs. Unfortunately, that also meant it wasn’t all that comfortable to breathe. Worth it for the boobage effect though.
And the hot looks she’d been getting from Tris tonight.
Okay, so the hot moves didn’t hurt either. She could still feel the outline of his hand on her outer thigh. Was it wrong that she’d rather have the same phantom touch between her thighs?
Or even less phantom and more like right now?
But first she had to woman up and go over there and drag him away from Sparks.
Tris gravitated to Sparks more and more these days. Well, that was the name she’d christened him with. His real name was Randy Pruitt, and he was the sometimes bane of her professional existence. The guy had it out for her, she was fairly sure of it. From the night at the Blue Rhino where she’d nearly bought it from a falling light fixture—oh, and couldn’t forget the subsequent fire. No, definitely couldn’t forget the fact that he’d accidentally shorted out the entire place. The show had been brought to a screeching halt and had started Warning Sign’s temporary downward spiral.
Though in all honesty, the band had plenty of those. Part and parcel of having six such volatile personalities all on one small stage.
Then again, if Sparks hadn’t been in her sphere maybe Tristan wouldn’t be either. Tristan had been showing up to a lot of their shows thanks to their friendship. Something was actually working out in her favor for once.
So said her suddenly interested girl parts. And it was a rarity for her to follow her currently star-spangled bloomers into the fray these days. Between her own band drama and the bad luck following them around like a specter, she’d lost count of the days that she’d opted to crawl into her lonely bed rather than deal with reality.
