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Jake
The first round of drinks and Jackson’s pervert side was already coming out.
“You’re kidding me. You’re pre-med at Baruch?” he teased our brunette waitress, who was bursting right out of her black lace corset. “Well, let me know when you become a doctor so I can come to you for my exams.”
“Haven’t heard that one before,” she smirked.
“So how old does that make you?” Jackson asked, rattling the ice in his Old Fashioned.
“Nineteen.”
Like Gabrielle.
“Christ.” Jackson shook his head slowly as he raked his gaze over her body. “I could be your uncle.”
Or the guy who has you killed.
She shrugged and gave a wicked little grin. “Everyone’s got a dirty uncle.”
They both laughed so I forced myself to join. This was it. I was running out of time to finally get to the video on that phone. If it was there, I needed it. Fast. We had a name now. Nick Seaver. Whether or not it was real, it was one he did business with, and while that wasn’t tangible evidence of anything, a phone was. There was no way Jackson hadn’t disconnected it by now, but if technology was good for anything, it was the ability to trace back things that had been deleted.
So I gave my best lewd grin when the waitress turned her flirtation to me.
“So. A surfer and an architect. Where do I find more guys like you?” she asked, sitting on the edge of our couch.
Jackson kicked me. “Well, he’s single so look no further,” he said, grinning as he watched her eyes light up. “So, what’s the deal? I know you girls aren’t strippers but you’re barely wearing any clothes so does that mean we can order a lapdance?”
Jesus. I watched the waitress eye me, leaning forward so that she almost popped out of her top. “No, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be happy to give one.”
“Well, no one can see us behind this wall,” Jackson pointed out. “Why don’t you show us what you got?”
I laughed. “Don’t listen to him.”
“Why not?” she frowned.
“Yeah, why fucking not?” Jackson demanded. “Just sit back and enjoy the show, asshole.”
Before I could do even that, the waitress was on me, straddling my lap and forgetting all about the dancing part. Unless grinding against my package counted. I swallowed, reminding myself to act fucking natural. I wanted nothing to do with this but I wouldn’t show it. So I glanced at Jackson, returned his wide grin, and looked up at the waitress who was the same age as Gabrielle. My heart pounded through my chest as she began kissing my neck, working her way up to my jaw till her lips were pressed against mine.
Fuck.
I ripped them away. Her big eyes flashed at me for all of a second before I grabbed her waist and pulled her close again, smashing my lips against hers. Jackson had been halfway through a “what the fuck” but now he was back to laughing, clapping, cheering me on.
“Yes. No boundaries, brother. No fucking boundaries.”
No boundaries, I repeated to myself as the waitress grinded furiously against me, her kiss getting increasingly wet. None till this is all over or it never will be, I told myself. But when her tongue flicked in my mouth and I tasted smoke and gum, I pulled away. “Rub my cock,” I ordered her. I couldn’t pretend her lips were Lara’s but I could close my eyes and pretend they were her hands. Leaning by head back, I breathed hard, still failing to convince myself that this furious stroking was Lara.
“Fuckin’ Christ, maybe I should excuse myself,” Jackson joked. That must’ve meant I was doing a more than convincing job.
Lifting a shy eyebrow at me, the waitress batted her fake lashes. “Want me to take it out?” she murmured her question.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I breathed.
“Oh my fucking God,” Jackson groaned. But just as the girl undid my jeans and pulled down my zipper, a furious voice bellowed from my right.
“You and you!”
All three of us jumped, turning to see the manager and two security guys.
