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His mouth falls open. “Sam, how can you even ask me that?”
She stares at him for what feels like several minutes and asks again.
He doesn’t budge at first. But when she says, “Are we?” a third time, his resolve evaporates, and he sighs heavily. “Okay, fine.”
“Seriously, dude?” Marty asks, offended.
“Well, not you,” he says to Marty. Then turns back to Sam. “But fine. I invited you so Marty didn’t look like my only Hispanic friend, okay?” He rubs a circle into his temple. “Look, Fiona’s dad isn’t psyched about her marrying a white guy, so I thought if both of you were here, and he saw that my circle isn’t made up of a bunch of white people, he might feel a little better about things.”
I expect Sam to be deeply upset, but her expression is pleased, and her gaze is cunning. “Interesting. Okay, we’ll play along,” she says, jabbing a finger into Nate’s chest, “if, and this is a bigif, you tell the bartender that our drinks are free for the rest of the night.”
“Are you serious? I’m not doing that.”
Samantha shrugs as she strolls over to her seat next to me and grabs her sparkly gold clutch. “You know what? I’m actually pretty beat.” She lets out a deep fake yawn and turns to Marty. “Maybe we should call it a night. Get a good night’s sleep.”
Marty tosses his cloth napkin onto his plate as he starts to rise. Nate looks around, panicked, and holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, fine.”
Samantha crosses her arms and waits.
“I’ll go tell the bartender right now. Free drinks for the rest of the night. Just…don’t leave.”
Nate strolls toward the bar, and Samantha remains standing as she watches him pull the bartender aside. He points at us as he talks, and the bartender nods.
Samantha’s spine straightens. “Worth it.”
We continue to dance and drink for the next hour, and by the time the cake is cut, my head feels as light as air. If this is what it feels like to be drunk, I understand why humans drink so much of that foul-tasting liquid.
At some point, Samantha leans into my side and whispers, “Let’s go for a walk.”
I am powerless to refuse her anything, so I let her tug me toward the bar where we grab two fresh gin and tonics and head toward the back door. Before we make our escape, we pass two women who look like twins, except that the woman on the right has silver streaks throughout her hair and lines around her mouth and eyes. They are glaring at us as if we are rats trying to steal a bite of the cake.
“Sam,” the younger one says as she takes a step in our direction. “You came.”
Samantha’s shoulders stiffen, but she keeps her smile light. “You can’t be that surprised by my presence, Quinn. I did say I was coming.”
Quinn. I know that name. This must be Nate’s sister. Samantha warned me in the car about her and her mother, Tabitha, and how cruel they can be.
Quinn’s lips flatten into a thin line. “I guess the surprise has more to do with your date than you.” Quinn’s eyes land on me and drift down my body in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
“Blink twice if you’re not here by choice, okay? We can help you,” she says to me. She cackles at her own joke, her mother joining in from where she stands a few feet away.
“I am Samantha’s boyfriend, Mylo,” I reply, offering them my most charming smile. “And there’s no place I would rather be,” I clasp Samantha’s hand between both of mine, “than here with her.”
Samantha stands a little taller, and I notice her muscles loosening as the tension fades. “Well, we’re gonna go have sex,” she proudly tells Quinn as we head for the door. Samantha spins on her heel to face Quinn once more. “Jealousy is a disease, baby girl. Get well soon!”
We laugh as we stumble through the halls of this grand resort, Samantha carrying her strappy gold heels and her drink in one hand, the other clutching mine. I don’t realize we’ve finished our drinks and abandoned our empty glasses until we’re climbing the steps to the floor above us, and my hands are free to grip the railing.
“This way,” Samantha says excitedly as we stroll down the hall, white doors with little black numbers passing by in a blur. Every floor looks the same. It would be easy to get lost inside this place.
“Ooh, what’s in here?” She throws open an unmarked door to reveal a closet filled with cleaning supplies and carts filled with fresh towels. Suddenly, I’m pulled inside. Samantha slams the door behind us, and her lips are running along the length of my throat in the dark.
I groan at the feel of her tongue flicking against my earlobe. My hands travel down the elegant curve of her back, stopping to grip and squeeze the ample flesh of her ass before landing on the backs of her thighs. Lifting her into my arms, I turn her around and press her bare back into the door as I grind my hips into the apex of her thighs. She feels so good in my arms, as if she’s meant to be there.
“Samantha,” I growl into her neck, using my teeth to nip and tear the scrap of silk that dares to stand between my mouth and the hardened tips of her breasts.
She crosses her ankles against my lower back as she rolls her hips against me. A breathy moan escapes her lips at the friction between our bodies, and my cock throbs beneath my pants. I’m aching to the point of pain, and I want nothing more than to tear off her panties and drive into her until our bodies are sweaty and spent.
I’m able to hold her weight with one arm as I slip my other hand beneath her dress, and I’ve just hooked a finger around one of the flimsy straps when the door swings open, and I stagger forward, struggling to keep us both upright.
