Her mouth falls open, shock written all over her expression.
“But we don’t have to talk about that,” I say quickly, not wanting to scare her away. Dropping that hint is important, though. I want her to know that I’d worship her if she let me, but I don’t want to make it awkward either. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
She blinks a few times, and then she sits back on her stool while crossing her arms over her chest. Inquisitively, she glances around the busy bar with bustling singles just looking to hook up with someone tonight. Finally, she quietly leans in and whispers, “Is this some sort of prank show that I’m on, and I don’t know about it?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
She motions between us. “This . . . this can’t possibly be a real thing, so do you have me on a prank show? Oh God, is this for the team? Are there cameras?” She looks around again, lifting out of her chair to get a better look.
I settle my hand on her shoulder and push her back on her seat. Looking her in the eyes, I say, “There is no prank show, Penny. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She studies me again, her expression a mixture of humor and confusion. I’m not quite sure if she’s about to lay down an onslaught of questions or burst out in laughter.
She chooses the latter.
It starts slow. A chuckle. A small ha . . . until it turns into a full-on guffaw followed by a litany of outlandish laughter so obnoxiously loud that people around us start to glance our way.
The laughter takes over every last inch of her body, shaking her from head to toe to the point of actual tears. Freaking tears. With a napkin, she blots at her eyes, pauses . . . glances at me, and starts laughing all over again.
Annoyed, I take a long, hard gulp of my drink until nothing is left while she continues gripping her stomach and gasping for air. I see a server crossing by us and wave him down for another round for the both of us while Penny attempts to gather herself.
Attempts being the key word.
After another minute, I ask her, “You done?”
She takes a few breaths, lets out a few more chuckles, and then sips her drink through her straw just as the server brings us a new round. He takes our empty glasses and then disappears.
After a few more seconds, she dabs at her eyes one more time and nods. “I’m done.” She smirks.
I wait to see if she breaks out in laughter again, but when she keeps it together, I say, “Then would you mind telling me why what I said was so funny to you?”
“Because it’s unbelievable,” she answers. Straw pinched between her fingers, she sips from her new glass now. “Ask everyone in this bar if what you said is believable, and one hundred percent they would say no.”
“I see.” I rub the side of my jaw, trying to maintain my composure because now she’s really fucking irritated me. I’m a pretty chill guy and can joke with the rest of them. I prefer it, actually, but this conversation has grated on my nerves. It’s not only insulting to me, but it’s degrading to her. She’s so goddamn hot, it’s painful being near her and not being able to make a move.
But that very well might change tonight.
I lean in and rest my hand on her bare thigh, sliding it inwardly as I say into her ear, “For your information, from the moment I first met you, I’ve wanted to fuck you. Don’t believe it if you want”—my lips graze her ear—“but it’s fucking true. Those lips of yours, I’ve wanted to own them. Your tits, I’ve wanted to worship. And your pussy, I’ve wanted to taste it.” Her breath hitches as I allow my thumb to move across her silky skin. “Every time I’ve run into you, every time I’ve made eye contact with you, or anytime I’ve been close enough to smell your perfume, I’ve thought about all the dirty, naughty, delicious things I could do to you. Dreamed about it. Wondered what it would be like to have you riding my cock, your tits bouncing near my face, your pussy pulsing against my length. So don’t for one goddamn moment think what I said was a joke. I’d never joke about fucking you . . . ever.”
And with a nip to her earlobe, I pull away and drag my hand off her thigh before grabbing my drink and lifting it to my lips. The whole time, I keep my eyes on her.
Cheeks flushed.
Lips parted in shock.
And her chest is actually heaving just as her eyes slowly lock in on mine.
“I . . . uh . . .” She wets her lips as her face registers shock. I can only imagine what’s going through her mind. Hell, I wasn’t expecting to lay out my desires for her like that, but she irritated me, and I needed, at that moment, for her to understand the truth. To understand the torture I’ve endured ever since I met her. Finally, she finds her voice. “I . . . uh, I was told I’m bad at sex.”