Page 25 of Promise Not To Fall

“Oh, uh.” I swallow, and I think he senses maybe I’m either drunk enough to try, and drunk enough not to… but it does sound appealing to me. I wouldn’t mind putting my mouth on him for sure, the thought tempting, even if it’s just a fantasy playing out in my head.

Before I have a lot of time to think about it, Jake looks around the bar. It’s empty for the most part, so he pats the bar. “Hop up here, City Girl.”

My eyes bug out, and I fidget with the straps of my sundress slipping off my shoulders. “On the bar?”

He raises an eyebrow, setting the bottle of tequila on the bar and then placing two limes and salt beside it. “Yeah, what the fuck does ‘hop up here’ mean in city terms?”

A shot on the bar? Or is he gonna do one off me? I’m so confused but decide the Kendall in the Bahamas would totally do this. “All right, let’s do it.” I give a nod, as if to prepare myself.

“Off my dick?” You can’t miss the eagerness in his voice. His belt buckle is still undone.

I stare at the belt. “Uh, no. Something else.”

“All right.” Disappointment settles in his eyes. “Get up here.”

I do. Ever climb on a bar in a dress? It’s impossible not to give a show. I think that was part of Jakes master plan. Positioning myself as ladylike as I can, I shift my body so my legs are hanging off the bar on his side. I jump slightly when his hands touch my exposed knees, pulling them apart. He then grabs the salt shaker and slides between my legs, putting his hands on my thighs again.

Our eyes catch and hold. His so bright and dreamy, mine, half closed. “Ready?”

I nod. I don’t think I can form words at the moment, let alone push them through my lips.

With a firm grip, he drags me forward and stands so his chest is in line with mine, so close I can finally smell him. Along with the dryer-sheet smell, there’s summer, warm sand, rum, and cologne. I can’t place the scent of his cologne, but I know it.

His hands slip off my thighs, and then he leans back far enough that he can raise his hands to pull his T-shirt over his shoulders. And Island Boy is now shirtless. You are welcome, friends.

Goddamn, he’s so muscular and tan. I bet he works out at one of those outdoor gyms and eats healthy. Dark markings scatter his chest and arms with what appears to be about twenty or thirty different tattoos. I don’t have a single tattoo, and the thought of getting one terrifies me. But part of me is really excited because now I know he doesn’t have a monkey asshole on his stomach. I can work with this canvas. I want to lick him. All over.

I sneak a peek at his body again. Who am I kidding. I can’t avert my eyes to save my life. The place could be on fire and I wouldn’t notice.

We stare at each other for a moment while Zac Brown Band bellows through the bar. How fitting.

He hands me a shot of tequila and leans in with his hands on the bar on either side of my hips. “You first.”

I’m a pussy with no sense of adventure. I do the fucking shot off his neck when my mind screams “Dick Shot!” I can’t bring myself to do it. Licking his soft, but rough skin, I take my shot and then suck on the lime in my hand. Jake says nothing in the process and doesn’t show much of a reaction other than his arms tensing when I lick his neck.

And then we’re staring at each other.

“Your turn,” I say, my face on fire with fear. What’s he going to do? A shot off my clit.Oh, God. Please. Yes!

With my heart racing, I watch Jake. He slowly bends down to my neck, his lips on my collarbone, but he doesn’t stay there. A jolt of nerves hits me, and now my entire body is trembling. He notices and laughs under his breath. “Relax, City Girl. I’ll be gentle.”

Straightening his posture, he places his hand on my chest, and then sweeps his other hand behind my knees to lay me flat on the bar. He moves around to the edge so I’m basically laid out on the edge of the bar and he’s between my legs. Nervously, I look around the bar. Thankfully it’s empty.

Sitting up on my elbows, I watch with rapt attention as he flips my dress up so my panties are on display for him. I don’t say a word. At least not yet. And then he spreads my thighs apart.

I blush, wondering if he can see the damp spot on my panties where I’m wet. I moan, not meaning to, and toss my head back. “Of course you’d do that. This is so embarrassing.”

He chuckles, his head between my legs. “Nice panties.”

Playfully, I try to push him away. “Stop looking.”

I try to close my legs, but he catches them in his firm grip, prying them apart. “I don’t think so. You owe me.”

I owe him? For what?

His mouth moves in, closer, and then closer. The heat from his breath and the humidity has me sweating like crazy. No way do I want his mouth down there. I try to pull him up by his shoulders, but he knocks my hands away and shakes his head. “If you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re wet, it’s pretty obvious. No sense in hiding from me.”

Motherfucker. I hate him.

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