Page 13 of All Twerk, No Play

When her lips parted with a gasp, I slid in, where our tongue sparred. Her hands ran into my hair, messing up my bun, forcing me out of her mouth, her tongue delving into mine.

When I finally broke away, her eyes drifted open. Our gazes locked for two panting breaths, then three, intensity curling between us. I hadn’t had a first kiss that hot in … fuck, never.

Her gaze tracked over my shoulder. “Your girl looks pissed.”

Right. It wasn’t a real kiss, just a ruse to incite jealousy.

Behind her, Alex’s head snapped away. Kate made a bat-swinging gesture as her fiance Paul lifted her jacket to take her home. Pike’s hands rested on Mallory’s hips as she ground into him, eyes wide with disbelief. At least one of us was living his fantasy tonight.

“Mission accomplished,” I said, not ready to release her ass, which still pulsed to the bass. “Lead me out and catch a cab. I’ll walk home.”

A jolt of energy burst up my arm as she interlaced our fingers. She collected her coat then the little minx glanced over her shoulder with a coy smile. Her expression darkened before she led the way downstairs to the cab stand.

She shivered in the cool winter air, tugging the coat belt tight. When I stepped closer to block the wind, she shifted away and looked at the clouds. I guess assessing the risk of snow was more interesting than my company. Under the overcast sky and street lights, her eyes gleamed silver with hints of pale green.

Her gaze flickering above us reminded me of that Fleetwood Mac lyric about silver with blue-green colors flashing. Stevie Nicks’ voice is so sweet and pure in the first verse then devolves into a haunting threat, raw and emotional … sort of like the voice in the vents earlier this week.

The redhead’s attention dropped to my face. She’d seemed annoyed before, but with furrowed brows and a tight frown, she bordered on furious. “Is that FleetwoodfuckingMac?”

Oh, guess I’d been humming along with my thoughts. A song by a woman jilted by her long term lover might be tacky. Whoops.

Her ferocity surprised me. She’d worked to appear indifferent all night, yet humming set her off. “You don’t like Fleetwood Mac?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The cab pulled up. She scooted across the leather seat with legs crossed at her ankles. Back to being closed off, whatever emotion the humming triggered locked away. “Drive around the block, I’ll give you my address when he leaves.”

Even though this plan had been my idea, I tried not to take her secrecy personally. After I climbed out, cab turned north and I headed in the same direction, cutting through an alley into the building’s back entrance. In the lobby I glanced into the open elevator, where the redhead slumped, her forehead resting on the mirrored wall, ready to cry.

"Dear Prudence," The Beatles

Victoria

Mortificationfloodedmeashe stepped out of the cab. I crumpled against the leather seat, replaying my horror.

I kissed a stranger. In public.

A stranger with tattoos and long hair and nail polish.

A 26 year old. Young and short-sighted. Only interested in a good time.

Dropping my temple to the glass window, I could practically hear my grandfather’s stern tone in my head:For Christ’s sake, Vickie, a scraggly nobody put his dirty hands on your rear.

His trophy wife Beverly added:Hussies don’t land good husbands.

His tongue had been in my mouth. His teeth were painfully white under those flickering lights, he could stop traffic with that smile … but that didn’t mean his mouth was clean.

Mallory called him ‘Cruise’ … I knew that doucheyTop Gunnickname but not where he lived, what his parents did, or what he’d studied in college.

Oh god, what if he’d gone to a state school?

I also knew how he kissed, and kissing had never felt like that. My distracted fingertips traced my bottom lip as the streetlights flickered by.

Alexander had kissed me hundreds of times, but it was … can kissing be tired? After studying or working, we kissed goodnight and passed out, only to restart the next day. A kissing hamster wheel.

But tonight’s kiss had been incendiary. Every press of his lips, every sweep of his tongue, every graze of his calloused fingertips added to the kindling, my veins pulsing with the music that stoked the flame.

When he pulled away, I wondered if the heat would smolder, but the air between us was oxygen on the embers. I chased his mouth, the crackling energy searing my restraint.

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