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Not taking my gaze off them, I lean forward, and say right up against Waylon’s ear. “Why, you have something better in mind?”
I sense more than see his eye roll as his fingers release my hair, and his palm slides around the back of my neck. He nips at my jaw. “What the fuck do you think?”
Chucking, I press my lips to his temple. “I’ve been dying to get inside you since this morning.”
A noise not unlike a growl slips from his lips, vibrating hotly over my skin. “But you were inside me.”
My grin widens, my cheek pressed tightly against his. “That was my fingers, baby. I’m talking about my cock.”
This time, his entire body jerks against me. We’re pressed together so tightly, I feel the way his dick twitches through the confines of denim.
Yeah, definitely time to call it a night.
Shawn, Mason, and Phoebe went to a diner to grab something to eat, seeing as Phoebe’sreallyunderage, while the rest of us decided to come here at Ivy’s insistence. It’s been over an hour since we got here, and while it hasn’t been a total bust, I can definitely say the idea of going clubbing was more fun than the reality.
Waylon encouraged me to drink when we first got inside, but I wasn’t feeling it. Having a beer here and there back home, or more if it was just me and Jeremy hanging out, is one thing. But at a club with my boyfriend where we’re surrounded by drunk people?
Yeah, no thanks. Waylon can say it’s okay all he wants, but it doesn’t feel okay tome.
It’s not like I’m missing anything by drinking water instead, but it’s definitely not as fun as it would be if I had a good buzz going on. Being sober and surrounded by a bunch of sweaty, drunk strangers isn’t exactly my idea of a fun time. And I know it’s got to be even less fun for Waylon, even if he’s determined to be able to still do these things sober.
I can’t say I get it, but I respect his need to figure out his limits on his own.
“Come on,” I say loudly, gripping his hand and guiding him in the direction of the exit.
Waylon calls out, “Should we tell them we’re leaving?”
I spare a quick glance toward the bar. Ivy’s talking to some girl, seemingly content. But next to her, Jeremy’s frowning down at his phone.
Shit.
I look to Waylon and hold up a finger. He nods, and I release his hand so I can make my way over.
“Hey,” I call out when I’m close enough.
Jeremy’s head snaps up.
Stepping up next to him so he can hear me, I jerk my head to the side. “Waylon and I were gonna head out, but if—”
Shaking his head, he cuts me off, “No, no, you guys do your thing. We’ll be fine.”
My mouth opens, closes.
He huffs, pocketing his phone. Leveling me with a knowing look, he all but yells to be heard over the thumping bass, “Don’t do that. Ivy’s a big girl. I’m a big boy. We—”
“That’s not—” This time I’m the one cutting off my words.
Jeremy’s mouth tightens. His gaze moves past me to where I feel Waylon standing a little way’s back, waiting for me.
I lean forward so my words are only for Jeremy. “Are you okay?”
His jaw tightens and he gives a stiff nod. “I’m fine.”
“Sure about that?”
Jeremy shrugs. “I dropped some Molly this morning. Just coming down from it now. I’ll be fine.”
That’s one too many fines in such a short period of time.
