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Shaking my head, I twirl the stool toward the bar and blow him off.
The bartender pushes the four shots toward him. “On your tab?”
“Yeah, and we’ll take three more beers when you have a minute.”
He picks up the shots and turns to rejoin his friends at their table— Jonesy the SEAL, Henderson the doting father, and Tomer the bland.
In the mirror behind the bar, I notice Henderson creeping toward the door with his shoulders and hands raised in a faux apologetic gesture. Likely heading home to his wife and baby.
Klein’s posture droops, and he sets two of the shots on the bar, sliding one of them in my direction.
“Consider this an apology for looking a bit too long.” He flashes me a wink. “Or maybe a thank you.”
How to play this?
I could toss it in his face, but that’s too aggressive and sends the wrong message.
Accept it with a blushing thank you? Nah. Too boring.
Let’s go with option three. Get him hard so he flaps those full lips and reveals all his secrets.
I spear him with a sultry glare and drag my harlot red fingernails in a circle along the rim of the glass. Reaching forward, I wrap my hand delicately around his corded forearm and yank him toward me.
My pulse spikes at the feel of his skin on mine and how his deliciously sexy scent permeates the air around us.
Flirting with this man isnohardship.
I’ve dealt with my share of attractive marks before, but this one might take the proverbial cake. Speaking of which, it would be heavenly to lick icing off his entire body.
Mmm. I love cake.
Bringing his wrist to my mouth, I swirl my tongue over his pulse point. Precisely as I feared, he tastes better than he smells.
With a heated gaze, I grab the saltshaker from the top of the bar, pour a few crystals on his damp flesh, and lick the salt, letting my tongue linger.
After dropping his hand, I grab the lime wedge from the top of the shot glass and place the rind into his mouth. He bites down to hold it, but his eyes widen in shock.
He seems so innocent.
The beginning twinge of guilt takes a seat in my throat, but I banish, it because pimps don’t feel. And this pimp is going to get what she needs.
After throwing back the shot, I lift from the bar stool and grab his shirt collar, pulling him closer to me. Like I’ve done with other marks at least two dozen times before, I bring his face down to mine and clamp my teeth onto the juicy lime. He doesn’t release it, though. So I end up sucking the sour juices while my lips graze his.
My pussy clenches involuntarily at our proximity.
Oh shit. It’s been a long time since a man caused that kind of reaction.
Bad pussy. That’s a very bad kitty.
He finally relents, letting the lime transfer to my mouth.
Settling onto the stool, I pucker around the wedge and suck deeper, letting the liquid chase away the harsh sting of the tequila.
My gaze burns into his as I remove the lime and draw my tongue over my lips. Slowly and seductively. He studies the movement without blinking, and his mouth parts.
He’s hooked. Phase two complete.
“Thanks for the shot, stud.”
