Page 18 of Sour Brew Face

“I can’t.”

“Are you sure? If the p never enters the v, then you’ll never know what you’re missing if you walk away.”

“And could you walk away from Dave?”

“You shut your whore mouth. My teddy bear has entered the kingdom and has been crowned king again and again and again.”

“I work with the man.” I hold up my hand to stop her. “I don’t need to hear about his prowess.” Before she can open her mouth and spew more ickiness, I open the door and shove her through. I glance up from my inspection of her cute shoes and my eyes meet dark slate ones behind the bar. A myriad of emotions cross his visage before settling on hesitant excitement. I offer a small smile and a dorky wave.

“You’re drooling.” Amelia’s voice breaks the intense stare off I was having with Langston. I immediately drop my hand and cup my vag through the fabric of my jeans.

“How can you tell?” I ask her, looking down to make sure it doesn’t look like I’ve pissed myself. When I glance up at Amelia, she’s bent over leaning against the wall, snorting, and waving her hands like that’s going to generate the breath she needs before she passes out from amusement.

I offer her a disappointed tsk and peek back at the bar to see Langston staring at me with curiosity and, dare I say, desire. I leave Snorty McWindmill and waltz over to the bar. I will neither confirm nor deny an added sway to my hips on the journey.

“Langston—” I step up on the base of the bar to hitch my hip onto the empty stool, my apology locked and loaded. However, Lang reaches his long arms across the bar top, grabs my neck, and pulls me into a passionate kiss. The words die an honorable death on my lips as he invades my mouth and takes me hostage.

“Mo.” He whispers my name reverently, resting his forehead on mine as we catch our breath. “I missed you, baby.”

“Oh.” I reply, blinking away the shock of that statement. I was prepared to grovel and beg and plead and suck his cock. I’m probably going to do that anyway. “I…I wanted to…you know what? I missed you too, lambykins.”

I fight a smile at the way his face screws up. “Lambykins? No. Not happening.”

“Ok, just trying it out.” I shrug not offended in the least and beyond happy he’s not mad at me.

“You wanna tell me why you were touching your cunt in my bar for everyone to see?” His low growl is causing that cunt to spring a leak.

“Girl talk.” I answer vaguely, secretly thrilled I get to use that phrase for the first time in my life and it is not an insult to one of the guys at the brewery.

“You want something to drink? Food?” He asks straightening up. I detest the distance between us.

“Yeah, I’ll have a Paul and an order of wings. What’s your spiciest flavor?” I swivel on the stool to look for Amelia and nearly shit my pants when I spin right into her. “Fucking hell.” I don’t appreciate her laughter, Langston’s, or anyone else that’s within a five-foot radius. “What do you want to drink?”

She smiles at Langston. “Hello, Langston. I’ll have a Dave of course.”

“Of course.” He nods to her then looks at me. “To answer your question, the Preparation Plunger is the hottest flavor.”

“Why?” Amelia asks, her face scrunched up.

Langston knocks his knuckles on the bar top and starts to walk away. “When you’re done eating them, you’ll needPreparation Hand a plunger.”

“Ew!” She gags as I yell out, “Make it a double!”

She whips her head around and stares at me contemplatively. “I can’t decide if being your friend is a wise choice or if I want to be you when I grow up.”

“Can’t it be both?”

“It’s usually both.” Dave says jovially as he steps up behind Amelia. He wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles her neck as she sighs dreamily.

“My liege.” She murmurs huskily as their lips meet over her shoulder. I should look away…but I can’t.

“Into voyeurism, huh?” Langston asks when he plops our beers down in front of us. I turn my head to talk to him, but I can’t take my eyes from the oddly captivating mating dance of the Dave. Guy’s got tongue game. “For fuck’s sake.” Strong hands grip my face, directing my mouth to meet Lang’s. His eyes are open and amused, darkening the longer our tongues slide together. “Why are your nipples hard?”

“Uh…because you just kissed me?”

“They were hard before I kissed you.”

“It was an anticipatory hardening of the nipple. They knew you were coming back.”

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