Page 102 of Girls Will Be Girls
IS IT POSSIBLE TO USE THE LUCKY GIRL METHOD TO MANIFEST A GUY INTO YOUR BED?
With stern instructionfrom Casey and with Buck backing her up, Lou and I weren’t allowed out of the bar until — in her words — she’d puked at least once. After Buck won the costume contest with his literal interpretation of an island, he gained the same authority as the birthday girl. Luckily, Willie took pity on us and used his bar manager voice to demand we be let free at two in the morning.
We didn’t actually end up leaving for another half an hour because of all the hugging and goodbyes that took place.
I wasn’t particularly tired, but I couldn’t take any more shots. I officially feel thirty.
The walk back to our lodges has been full of crackling tension, especially as Lou still won’t take his hands off me. All night, he’s had at least a finger resting on me, and I don’t hate it one bit.
“I’m curious,” Lou says as we walk hand in hand down the path to our lodges. “Did you already have this hat with you here, or…?”
“Are you making fun?”
He chuckles. “Not at all.”
“Because I’ll have you know, I own multiple back home,” I say.
He spins me towards him as we reach my front porch. “I’m a big fan.” His hands glide down my waist. “It definitely does things to me.”
I grin. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hm.” He nods. “Reckon I could pull it off too?” He smirks.
“Definitely.” I nod, some deep, unknown desire surfacing as I picture Lou in a pair of tight butt-hugging jeans and a cowboy hat. I take the hat off my head and place it onto hover over his too-large head, the gems around the rim sparkling in the porch light.
I can’t help but laugh. “The vision is there, for sure.” I twist my hands up in his shirt, bunching it in my fists. “You know what the rule is though, right?”
“What rule?” He grins down at me.
“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy,” I smirk. “Although the analogy doesn’t seem to work as well this way round.”
He lets out a laugh, squeezing me tighter into him. “I’m sure we could do it justice, cowgirl.” He kisses my cheek gently, and right as I don’t think I can take the build-up of heat inside of me any longer, he douses me with a cold hose.
“I should probably get going.” He says.
“What?” I almost squeal. “No.”
“I should.” He smiles.
“No, you shouldn’t,” I say. “I don’t want you to.”
“Yeah?” He smirks. “What do you want?”
I study his eyes, forcing myself to be brave, be selfish for once.
“I want you to kiss me.”
He smiles one of his best smiles, eyes dark and crinkling at the corners. With his hands firmly on my waist, he walks mebackward until my back is flush with the wall, and no space left between our bodies.
I edge my hands onto his shoulders as he starts to trail kisses down my neck like in the bar.
“Such a good girl, asking for what you want.” He says against my skin.
I can’t help the moan, or maybe it’s a whimper that comes out of me. His lips travel further down, moving over my collarbones.
“You like when I call you good girl too, baby girl?” He nips at my skin.
“Ugh.” I practically moan in frustration. “I hate that I like that. I’m so annoyed that I like that.”
