Page 9 of That Pretty Pucking Mouth

We weave through the throng of people, the air thick with sweat and alcohol, but I can’t shake the image of that masked guy—the way he stared, the unsettling calm with which he just walked away. It felt wrong, like something out of a nightmare.

I glance at Jack, and he’s at ease. I don’t doubt for one second that he would take on that guy. I can still feel the chill of the encounter clinging to my skin.

He pulls me onto the large leather couch after grabbing another set of drinks. I try to shake off the weirdness of what happened,but the night has taken a sharp turn, and no amount of alcohol can drown the lingering tension in the back of my mind.

“Want a hit?” Jack asks, drawing me out of my thoughts. I glance at him and the smoking blunt he holds out.

Well, that might drown it.

I hesitate, eyeing the blunt in his hand. The temptation is there, gnawing at my frayed nerves. I haven’t had weed since that night at Cassidy’s house back in high school. She had scored it from some sketchy senior and she wanted to try it with me. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience though.

Maybe it could take the edge of this weird night and the unease settling in my gut. I glance around the room–people laughing and dancing, totally unaware of the strange turn this night had taken for me.

Why the hell not?

I reach out and take the blunt, bringing it to my lips and inhaling deeply. A familiar burn fills my lungs, and I hold it in for a moment before exhaling slowly, squinting as the cloud of smoke that drifts off into the chaos.

“Thanks,” I mutter, passing it back to him.

The warmth of the drug spreads through my body, but the knot of anxiety in my stomach doesn’t quite loosen, it lingers, like a shadow, waiting for the next strange thing to happen.

Jack takes another drag, before leaning back and giving me a blazed look. “That’s it. Just relax.”

We pass the blunt back and forth for a while. By the time it burns down to a tiny nub, my head feels pleasantly light and the tension in my body starts to melt away. The haze wraps around me like a warm blanket, dulling the sharp edges of the night. I lean back against the couch, my limbs heavy, eyes closed, and I can’t help the lazy smile tugging at my lips.

Jack shifts beside me, his hand brushing against my bare thigh, subtle but enough to send a spark through the haze. I glanceover at him, the room spinning slightly as I do. His gaze is heavy lidded, his grin slow and easy.

“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice low, almost a murmur against the thrum of the music.

I nod. “Yeah…a little.” Unease still lingers at the edge of my consciousness, dull now but not gone.

“I can make you feel even better.” A promise hangs off his words as he leans closer, his hand now resting firmly on my thigh.

“Oh, yeah?” I raise an eyebrow, intrigued besides myself.

My body feels heavy, the buzz from the weed and alcohol, melding into something heady, something that dulls my usual defenses. His touch sends a ripple of heat through me, and I can’t help but glance down at his hand, his grip just tight enough to make my pulse quicken.

Jack smirks and leans closer, his thumb brushing over my skin. “Yeah.”

I bite my lip as I consider the offer. The chaos of the party fades into a distant hum as the tension between us grows. I see his eyes flick down to my mouth and heat courses through me.

The kiss is sudden and just as forceful. It takes my breath away–his lips crash against mine with an urgency that surprises and excites me. His hand tightens on my thigh, pulling me closer until I’m practically on his lap. My mind spins, but I don’t pull back. Instead, I kiss him harder matching his intensity as my hands tangle in his hair.

There’s nothing gentle about him–just pure, unbridled desire, fueled by alcohol and the haze of the night.

His hands roam over my body, pulling me even closer until I’m straddling him on the couch. My knees sinking into the leather. My eyes flutter close, and I let the moment consume me. His lips trail over my skin, leaving a hot path that sends shivers down my spine.

Something tells me to slow down but I ignore it. I can’t. It feels too good.

The recklessness and impulsivity drives me, staking the heat that builds at the pit of my stomach.

“You feel incredible,” he whispers against my skin, his breath hot and teasing. I gasp as he nibbles against the sensitive spot of my neck, arching against him as I fall deeper into the haze of lust and adrenaline.

Just as I think I can’t take it anymore, he pauses, his hand stilling. He pulls back and looks up at me, his gaze heavy lidded and filled with want.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he murmurs, words filled with promise.

I hesitate for a second, my heart still pounding and my body buzzing with desire, but there’s a small voice in the back of my mind that’s trying to break through the haze of alcohol and lust. Going upstairs means crossing a line that I’m not sure I want to cross.

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