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“Thank you.” Leaning in farther, he ghosted his lips along my jaw. “Glad you like. Just FYI, I don’t bottom, but you’ll like my mouth even more than my ass. Guaranteed.”
“Big talker.” I let my lips hover next to his, hand coming up to rest near his chin. I was totally okay with no penetration. Like him, I rarely bottomed, and definitely not with a random bar hookup, so I respected whatever rules and likes he had for himself. If he wanted to show me what his mouth could do, I was more than game.
In the end, I wasn’t sure which of us went for it first, going from all-but-kissing to actually kissing, warm lips against warm lips, every nerve ending I possessed singing the Hallelujah chorus as our mouths met for the first time in earnest. Rebound had full, soft lips that tasted like cola and mint, apparently my new favorite flavor combo on earth. I traced his lips with the tip of my tongue over and over until all I tasted was him, and I simply couldn’t get enough.
His mouth parted with a gasp, welcoming my kiss like I was the last bottle of water at the finish line of a marathon. He chased me back to my mouth, a different layer to our dancing, taking turns, moving effortlessly together. We sagged against the wall, bodies no longer enough to keep us upright in the gale force winds of desire stirred up by this kiss to end all kisses.
Rebound didn’t kiss like a one-night stand. I understood his stupid nickname now. Lord, rejected and dumped friends must have been lined up around the block back at his college, waiting for Rebound to cure their heartbreaks with kisses that felt like memories and promises.
He kissed like a third date desperate for a fourth, like U-Hauls and monogrammed towels might be in our future. I was years removed from my last ill-fated attempt at dating, another connection lost to long-distance and frequent deployments, but Rebound kissed like the boyfriend everyone wished they had: tender, kind, slow, sensual, giving. All that. He kissed like we’d have all damn month, not a few stolen minutes up against a sticky wall with a bass-thumping speaker next to us.
We ground together, bodies powered by the driving beat of the music. I’d never been harder, certainly never in public, and never this close to orgasm on the dance floor, but here we were, and still, I couldn’t stop kissing this intoxicating man.
A clump of people stumbled too close to our little hideaway, and he pulled away with a groan.
“Hey, watch it,” he said to the dancers before turning back to me. “Ready to get out of here?”
I nodded. I’d get Jorge half his damn registry as an apology for leaving early, but I needed more of those lips, preferably without an audience.
“Excellent.” A slow smile spread across his face. Had I thought his smile was amazing before? I’d been so wrong. Turned out that was his B-Class smile, the one he gave friends, songs he liked, and strangers who made him laugh. The smile he turned on me now was nothing short of exquisite. That once-in-a-lifetime steak in Argentina or wine in Spain. An entire experience captured in a single moment.
Like his kiss, he was something else, and I was going to treasure him like a meal that wouldn’t come around again. I held out a hand, but before he could take it, one of his friends, who’d been near him earlier admiring the go-go dancers, came loping over.
“Rebound!”
“Kind of busy, Chaz.”
“Yeah, well, X-ray turned his ankle.” Chaz had blond hair that stuck up at a million angles and seemed way younger than Rebound, looking barely legal to drink. Or perhaps I needed to recalculate my estimate on Rebound’s age. I dropped my hand as Chaz continued, “Gonna need your muscles to help get his drunk ass home.”
“Seriously, dude?” Rebound didn’t step away, but I swore I felt the rush of a breeze, him retreating. “Swear to God if this was anyone but X-ray…”
“Go. Help your friend.” I was the one to break apart, away from the blissful heat of his strong body. He was a good guy and wanted to help his friend. He’d said as much, and I knew if the situation were reversed, I’d be cursing a blue streak but making my excuses nonetheless.
“Give me your number?” Rebound asked, pulling out his phone, which had a superhero case. Damn. Maybe the lighting in here really did suck. How old was this guy anyway? “Let me get my pal stashed safely in his bed, and then I can meet up with you.”
“I’m not sure…” I hedged as I started patting my pockets for my own phone. I needed to check my number, but I also needed a few seconds to recover enough brain cells to ask his age before agreeing to a later hookup. My phone wasn’t in my left pants pocket like usual. Or the right. “Crap. Where’s my phone? Sorry, I don’t have my new number memorized yet.”
