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And try not to hurl.
He grabs me, runs his tongue over my lips, and…
I open. I open for his kiss.
Mind over matter, Rory. Just do it.
He sweeps his tongue into my mouth, and for a moment, I wonder if he can taste my tonsils. Is this how he kisses? Or is he just kissingmethis way? So he can go tell his juvenile friends that he shoved his tongue down Rory Pike’s throat?
Doesn’t matter. None of it matters. This is an acting job, nothing more.
Then his hand… He’s groping one of my breasts. I knew it would happen. I knew it…still…I feel so cheap. So used.
But I’m here to do a job. I resist the instinct to brush his hand away. He squeezes. Hard. Does he really think that feels good to me? A moan escapes his throat. Then a louder one. A full-fledged groan.
I force myself to sigh softly, to make him believe I’m enjoying myself. A few more minutes pass, and then his kiss gets noticeably less forceful. I take the chance to pull away and inhale.
“Getting tired?” I ask.
“A little. But believe me, I have enough energy to make you happy.” Pat yawns.
Nice. The Benadryl is working. Except now I have a window of about five to ten minutes to get him to admit to spiking the hairy buffalo.
Pat is gazing at me—well, not at me, exactly. Rather at my chest.
I smile again. “You can’t stop looking at my tits, can you?”
“Baby, no one can stop looking at your tits.”
“Here.” I take both his hands, place them on my breasts.
Yeah, I really should get a freaking Academy Award for this.
He squeezes them again. Hard. “I want to suck on them, baby. I want to pinch them until they’re red.”
“Easy. We’ll get there, stud.”
Pat closes his eyes, continues squeezing, but then the pressure of his hands lessens.
I pull him into a lying position. “Come on. Lie down here with me.”
He yawns again and then turns to face me.
I touch his cheek. “I wish I knew who spiked the punch. Then I could find out what they put in it. Get some more of that for myself.”
He smiles lazily. “I can get you some stuff.”
I trail my finger over his chest to his abdomen, coming perilously close to the bulge beneath his jeans. I hope I don’t have to go there, but if I have to, I will.
“Can you? Wow, that would be great. So you know what was in the punch, then?”
“Sure, I do, baby. After all, I’m the one who fucking spiked it.”
Okay, he earned it. I grab the bulge. “You did that? How?”
He groans and closes his eyes. “I can do anything. Don’t you know that right about now?”
All I know is that I want to throw up.
