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Fuck, why did I say that? He’s going to think I’m angling for dick. Maybe I am. The more pickle juice and vodka I get into me, the more I want to ride him.
“That’s why I’m here,” he whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my earlobe. “I’m at your beck and call for the next few months to make sure you get everything you need.”
My stomach swirls, and it’s not about the shots and beer.
“Come dance with me. One dance. I’ll prop you up.”
I nod, and he pulls me to the dance floor. My vision tunnels, and I only see him. My hair is everywhere, and sweat runs down my back, pooling at my waistband. He pulls me close and throws my arms around his neck. “Get closer, Savannah,” he directs.
My mother always told me that you can tell what a man is like in bed by the way he moves on the dance floor. If that’s true, Wilder is a sex god. He moves against me in perfect rhythm to the beat and gets me to move my feet and hips with his, matching his movement like we’re mirror images. His chest and shoulders are firm under my hands, and I slide my hands down his body as he laughs against my cheek.
Wilder’s coworkers are nice and pat him on the back as they dance past us, and Wilder stops to talk to people when they get ready to leave for the night. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun, and I hold on to him as we move together across the bar floor. The other women give me thumbs up from the table, and I smile and wave back to them.
He does most of our dancing while propping me up, and I step on him more than once. He keeps me away from other couples on the dance floor, and the entire crowd holds their drinks up around me. If I didn’t already smell like alcohol, I would now with all the beer sloshing around the room. It rains onto the floor, my hair, and people around us.
The song ends, but my body still sways against him, and he laughs and pulls me into him. “If you like dancing, I can take you more often. I actually like it. Probably not very manly of me.”
I throw my head back and stare at the track lighting above me. The ceiling spins, and I follow it with my head, a grin on my face. He notices and laughs into my neck. “Let’s get you home. I don’t think you need anymore, and I think you need bed.”
“Oh, yes. I definitely need bed,” I coo, running my hands down to his chiseled ass and taking a handful of it.
October 29 - Wilder
“Put your arms around me and hold on,” I direct, kicking her car door shut with my foot as she ropes her arms around my neck.
For as much as she drank, she doesn’t smell like a bin of whiskey mixed with morning breath. She still smells like herself, and I take a deep inhale, breathing her in as I carry her to our apartment. “Tanks fer drinin,” she slurs, and I laugh at the garbled words.
“You’re welcome.”
I set her down while I fumble with her keys to find the right one, and she slides down the wall. Warm arms circle my calf, and she rests her head on my shin, giggling. “I found your leg!” she yells, and my eyes glance to the neighboring apartments, afraid we’re waking them. She moves her hands up my leg and wraps both arms around my thigh, leaning her cheek against it. “Your leg smells good. Better than pickles.”
“I wash my pants,” I laugh, smoothing her hair back as she looks up at me with hooded eyes. “You’re fun when you’re drunk.”
She sticks out her tongue. “We can have fun tonight if you want,” she coos.
She slides her hand further up my leg and reaches for my dick. I gasp and grab her hand, letting the keys fall to the floor. She picks them up and hands them to me. “We’re not doing that tonight, Savannah.”
“Why won’t you let me touch your dick?” she pouts.
I take the keys from her and focus on opening the door and getting inside. It’s not easy when she’s still holding onto my leg like children hold on to their parents’ legs for fun. “Normally, I’d let you touch my dick any time you want, but you’re too drunk. My cock is a spectacular thing, and all women who see it should be sober enough to fully appreciate it in its full glory.”
I put her keys on the hook she usually uses and focus on detaching her from my leg as she laughs against me. Reaching down, I pull her up as she fights with me. “Dick. Dick. Dick,” she chants as I lean her against the wall to reach down and unlace her boots. “I want the spectacular dick.”
I toss her boots to the side and stand up in time for her to head butt me in the chest. It’s not hard or on purpose. I know she didn’t mean to do it, and I smooth her hair back so she’ll look into my eyes. When she finally focuses, I rub my nose against the tip of hers, toying with her. “Savannah, I want you. I really do. Just not like this when you may not remember tomorrow or even give me good consent tonight.”
She whimpers into my chest, and throws her head back, trying to keep her eyes focused. They flutter and threaten to close. “I can never read that book you’re named after again if I can’t have you,” she complains, wiping her eyes.
“You won’t be able to read it if you have me.”
“Why’s dat?” she slurs.
I bend down to her ear. She’s driven me crazy for a couple of weeks now, and she deserves to suffer. Let her go into the shower with that pouf and rub it against her nipples and clit until I hear her moan for me through the wall.
I exhale on her earlobe and brace my arms on either side of her face, flexing them like I know she likes. “Because when we finally do this, I’ll make it so fucking good that you’ll come in those little panties twenty years from now at the mere mention or thought of my name.”
She whines and throws her head back against the wall so hard that I check she’s still conscious and she didn’t hurt herself. It’s been such a fun night, and I don’t want it to end with a trip to the emergency room for stitches.
She grips the hem of my shirt and pulls me to her for a kiss. I know I shouldn’t take her to bed since she’s drunk, but I can’t help but kiss her. Deep down, I want to taste her mouth. Her tongue. I want her to breathe me in until it’ll annoy her that she didn’t take advantage of having me when I first got here. I like her hands rubbing up and down my chest and the little moans she makes when she traces my abdominal muscles.
