AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Driving me crazy,” he confesses, nipping my earlobe sharply.
I jolt at the sensation, and the bartender returns, sliding my drink toward me.
“That’ll be ten dollars, please,” Mohawk says, watching Quinn and me curiously.
As I reach for my money, Quinn smacks a twenty on the bar.
“Here’s a tip,” Quinn coolly states, and the bartender reaches for it happily.
But Quinn slaps his hand over the bill.“You get one of the other bartenders to serve her from now on.” He removes his hand.
Mohawk nods uneasily, realizing Quinn’s tip was not in the form of money, and he scampers off, serving a patron at the other end of the bar.
“Real smooth,” I say, raising the rim of the glass to my lips and tossing it back quickly.
“I wasn’t trying to be smooth.”
As I lick my sticky fingers because the liquor has trickled over the sides of the shot glass, Quinn grabs my seat and spins it to face him. I have about a second to register what he’s doing before he smashes his lips to mine, kissing me with such intensity I nearly slip off my seat.
His mouth is hot and wet, and I can’t get enough. I grip his hair and pull—hard. He bites my bottom lip, following the sting with his tongue.
“Now, that’s smooth,” he says, pulling away with a smirk.
He looks calm and collected while I’m all but combusting in my seat. Damn him for beating me at my own game.
The lights suddenly dim, and the crowd cheers as the first member of Wild Child takes his position behind the drums. The guitarist and keyboardist follow not long after, and I’m surprised because they are clones of the original band members. I can’t help but wonder what the sexy Jim Morrison will look like.
But I don’t have to wait too long because the girls go wild as soon as Jim comes out.
The guy, no older than twenty-one, takes his spot behind the microphone, wearing the infamous leather pants, boots, and white shirt, which falls open, revealing a nicely defined chest. His long hair is tousled.
The girls in the venue rush to the front, pushing and shoving to get a prime spot for a performance, which will no doubt get a lot of men in here laid.
NowI get why there are so many men here.
Jim starts with “Alabama Song,” and the girls bop away, hands above their heads, dancing to the catchy tune of the keyboard. This happens for the majority of the show, and I must admit, I’m a little starstruck, as he is really good. His voice, stage moves, everything is down to a T to the real Jim Morrison, who I have a little crush on.
“LA Woman” ends, and Jim laughs when a thong gets thrown onto the stage. “We’re going to slow it down a bit,” he says, seductively running his fingers up and down the microphone stand.
“The Crystal Ship” begins, and as Jim’s smooth voice lulls me into a hypotonic state, I close my eyes and get lost in the music.
“Dance with me,” Quinn whispers into my ear.
My eyes snap open, and I turn to look at him, stunned. No one has ever asked me to dance before. And because of that, I don’t know how.
“I don’t…I…” I stutter, lowering my eyes.
Quinn reaches for my hand, leading me to the dance floor, where many bodies slowly sway.
As we reach a small spot, I look from side to side, attempting to subtly watch others and replicate their movements.But Quinn encircles my waist, drawing me into him, and I instantly relax.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he says into my ear hoarsely, and the heat of his hands on my waist scorches my skin raw.
Nervously, I raise my arms, enclosing his neck in a tight grip. Biting my lip, I feel beyond stupid just standing there, not knowing what to do. But as Quinn leisurely begins swaying, his eyes focused on mine, I mimic his movements, shuffling from foot to foot, and thankfully, I don’t feel too uncoordinated.
I lower my eyes to ensure I’m not stepping on his feet, but Quinn dips his face to meet mine.
“I’ll lead you. Just trust me.”
