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Chapter 6
Sammi
7:54 PM FRIDAY
Fuck, I love tequila. This is quite possibly the greatest tequila on the face of the Earth.
It’s certainly the most fucking exotic. Where else are you going to get tequila, or any liquor for that matter, with a fucking snake in it?
Bangkok, Thailand. I love this fucking city.
The tequila burns all the way down, which is exactly what I want it to do. It makes me feel better, and it makes it easier to forget shit. It’s even making the current company appealing.
And I didn’t think it was possible for any amount of alcohol in the world to do that.
I look Lock over and don’t even realize that I’m biting my lower lip.
That sandy blond hair looks as smooth as silk. His ocean blue eyes make me want to dive in head-first. Then there’s the way that the scruff on his face only makes his smile look that much sexier.
“You know I can see you staring at me, right?” Lock asks, eyebrow raised.
I blink a couple of times then have the good sense to blush and then turn my eyes away from his awful, scruffy fucking Chris Hemsworth face.
My focus shifts from him to Mysti and her Celine Dion-esque companion. Mysti is fawning over the impersonator and—for the time being—looks happy and content.
Ladyboy Celine Dion wouldn’t be my first pick for Mysti May’s next paramour, but I’m happy for her. Her love life is a colossal shit show of unspeakable proportions—so if she wants a fling with a Thai ladyboy who can perfectly lip sync to “My Heart Will Go On”, who am I to stop her?
Speaking of shit show…
Becky and Liam are up on the stage, putting on a show that nobody is going to forget for a very long time. We should have known that this would happen when the performers pulled them up on stage a couple of minutes ago—this is Vegas all over again.
Liam has his tongue down Becky’s throat, and Becky is grinding on Ladyboy Janet Jackson while giving a Liam a hand job through his pants. And I’m fairly certain some of the onlookers are playing with themselves as they watch.
As if the city wasn’t hot enough, those two had to go dial it up to eleven.
I look down at the bottle of cobra tequila in my hand.
Thanks for giving me an awkwardlady boner.
Percy is somewhere out back with the performers—I think—with her new pet monkey. I don’t remember when she bought it.
Hell, she might have just found it and claimed it as her own. It’s hard to tell at this point. But for now, she seems to be the one who’s on their best behavior.
Relatively speaking.
“You having fun yet?”
I turn back to the hunky Aussie.
He looks at me from over the bottle of his Singha.
Our eyes meet, and I really hate myself for wanting to fuck him right here and now.
I hate his smug fucking grin. I hate the way he looks like he lost his razor two weeks ago, and his face is thanking him for it. And the way he looks at me with those eyes—I hate that most of all.
Especially considering the way it’s making my pussy ache.
I shouldn’t want him. Idon’twant him. After the shit that fucking Eggs put me through earlier, I don’t want to fuckanyoneright now.
