What the fuck? It’s really loud in here tonight, so I must have heard her wrong. Surely, she didn’t suggest someone told her she was a lousy lay. But looking at her face, at what looks like utter mortification, maybe I did hear her right. “Penny, did you just say—”
“I know I claimed earlier that I was good, a decent roll in the sheets, but that was a lie to save face. My last boyfriend said I was bad, so . . . you know, just thought that might help your fantasies. No good over here. A no-fly zone for pulse-pounding sex. Sorry.”
Bad at sex?
Some dipshit told her she was bad at sex?
Who the fuck says that to a woman?
The only reason a man would say that is because he’s the one who’s actually bad at sex and is placing the blame on someone else so he doesn’t have to face reality.
Anger pumping through my veins, I say quietly as I close the space between us, “I don’t believe that for one goddamn second.” I reach up and push a stray piece of hair behind her ear, lingering at her cheek. “Let me ask you this. Did he ever make you orgasm?”
Visibly uncomfortable, she shifts on her stool. “Well, when I assisted him.”
“Assisted him?” I ask, intrigued with exactly how she would do that.
“You know, if I massaged myself while he thrust into me from behind.”
The image of her playing with her clit while being fucked runs through my head like a goddamn motion picture on the big screen. I can see it, feel it, but instead of some fuckup behind her, it’s me, and the only reason she’s playing with her clit is because I demanded that she did, not because she needed it.
I’m so turned on. Facing her, I rest my feet on the rungs of her stool and place my hand on her back, closing her between me and the high-top table. “Did you have to do that every time? Massage yourself?”
She doesn’t look at me. She averts her eyes to her drink where she plays with the condensation, dragging her perfectly manicured finger over the dewy droplets. “You know, we don’t have to talk about this. What about, uh . . . your birthday. Get any good presents?”
“Not yet,” I answer. “But I’m hoping I’ll get a really good one by the end of the night.”
Her eyes shoot to mine, and I hold her gaze, letting her know how fucking serious I am.
She’s off limits.
I’ve been warned.
And I’ve kept my distance.
But there’s something about tonight. Something driving me closer and closer to her, and no matter how many times I try to conjure up Pacey’s angry face or threatening words, they’re quickly washed away by my desperation.
I. Want. Her.
Need. Her.
Bad.
And I’m not sure anything can stop me from having her tonight.
Chapter Three
PENNY
Booze.
I need more booze.
All of the booze.
Pretend my mouth is the base of a waterfall and just tip all of the liquor right down the gullet because, oh my GOD, Eli Hornsby is causing me to turn all different shades of red.
Not to mention sweat. He is making me sweat down my freaking back.
Yeah, I know, sweating isn’t the least bit attractive and no one wants to hear about it. But I’m more than glistening at this point, and it’s all because the extremely gorgeous man sitting next to me decided to nip my earlobe.
Have you ever felt a tsunami of arousal take over your body in one giant, consuming wave?
Well, I have, and it was the moment Eli decided to pull my earlobe between his teeth. My freaking earlobe, ladies. I don’t think earlobes are the least bit sexy. They’re dangling skin bits attached to your head. It’s a good thing someone thought to pierce them because they need a little something to make them not so freaky. But yes, here I am, panting and sweating like a freaking hockey player after three periods on the ice from one little nip.
A brief nibble.
It’s not like he stuck his tongue in my ear—which by the way, yuck—nor did he suck on my ear or make out with it. His teeth made a brief pass, and before I could register what was happening, he was back in place, sipping his beer.
Yet it was life-altering.
I can still feel it, his teeth on my ear. I can still sense his hand on my inner thigh, his thumb caressing my skin, dragging, teasing . . .
And that provocative voice of his, I can still hear it ringing through my ears, telling me all the dirty things he wants to do to me.
He wants to see my boobs bounce in his face? What on earth?
My . . . gulp pussy pulse against his length. I never in my life have heard such a sinister sentence.