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When his tongue finally presses between my lips from the angry tug-o-war we were playing, a flush of wetness rushes into my panties. Our tongues meet, and instantly I'm assaulted with warm and strong. And experienced. I want to scream my thanks to the kissing Gods. He's hot and he can kiss.
He pulls me against him; our bodies now flush. A moan slips when I feel the hardened section of denim pressed against me. It covers more distance than I would have originally thought by the looks of him. First thought: filling. He breaks the kiss first, both of us breathing heavily. "Bryant."
"What?"
"Name's Bryant."
"Tynleigh," I counter.
"Let me buy you a drink."
"I know something better you can give me, asshole."
The smirk returns. "Oh yeah. What's that?"
"A proper apology."
"I'm—"
"In my bed."
"I think I owe you that much." He squeezes my ass. "Let me tell my crew. Meet me at the bar."
He disappears into the crowd and I make my way to the bar. Luckily, the bartender notices me and I don't have to wait long. "Tequila. Three shots."
He lines up the small glasses and pours them full, sliding them my way as I exchange them for a bill. "Keep the change."
When he moves to the next waiting customer, I remove the small bottle of lemon salt from my dainty over-the-shoulder purse, designed to still be dressy. This is my little drinking quirk I've had forever. I always have it on me. I prefer lemon salt with my tequila. Back in high school when you found someone to score you liquor, you rarely were around the standard kitchen necessities like salt and limes, but the average gas station sells lemon salt. In my drunken underage mind, I scored two things with one product, and to my surprise, I've been using it since.
I quickly flip the lid and pour a hefty amount onto the center of my tongue, before setting it down in front of me so I can pick up the first shot, removing the lime slice already sitting on top waiting for me. I down it and swallow without thought, then bite the lime and suck the citrusy juice into my mouth. I waste no time in repeating the same process two more times.
A hand settles against my stomach, pulling me toward a body, a much harder, unfamiliar body. "Starting the party without me?"
That voice, however, is now familiar. "Just loosening up."
His lips are right beside my ear. He presses me into the edge of the bar, blocking everything below my ribs from view, and then his hand begins to descend, causing me to shudder. "I thought that was my job."
Before I can respond he's already rubbing up the inside of my thigh, under my dress. The higher he gets, the more labored my breathing becomes, and the drunker I feel. I need to calm the fuck down. But then his fingers dip underneath the edge of my panties and make contact with my pussy. He circles a few times before sliding two fingers inside. "Damn, girl. Tight and wet. I guess you do need to be loosened up."
He pulls out and rubs between my lips to my clit. My hands snake behind me and grip the backs of his thighs as he presses down on that tiny button that causes such an explosion of feelings when touched just right. I buck against his hand reflexively, and taking the hint he begins to massage.
Just fucking right.
Short but quick strokes.
Never leaving the target for more than a millisecond.
He knows exactly what he's doing.
And unlike with most of the guys I've hooked up with, in seconds I'm ready to come, right here in this fucking club, beneath the bar.
His other hand serves as the replacement for the previous fingers now missing from my pussy with him rubbing my clit, two fingers again sliding inside. My muscles clamp with the beautiful invasion. "That's right, baby. Let me feel what I can't hear. Come for me with all these people standing around us."
And like it was a fucking command I begin to come, a million different explosions happening at once inside of my mind and body, starting at my core. Just like a fireworks show. My head falls back against his chest as I come down from the quick but powerful high.
I can barely breathe. He continues to rub against my sensitized button. The bartender walks over as I try to stifle a moan. He roughly grips the skin that covers my clit to silence me as it tries to slip through my lips. "Three more shots of what she had. I have a tab."
The bartender looks at me, lingering on my face before shifting his eyes back to Bryant. "Three tequila shots coming right up."
