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This time I have a better idea of what I’m doing. Tex’s kiss is more demanding than Riot’s. He slides his fingers into my hair so he’s cupping the back of my head and holding me close as we kiss. His tongue moves against mine, sweet and hot. Maybe it’s the drink, but I’m on fire all over, sparks arcing over my skin and threatening to burn me to ash right where I sit.
It feels so freaking good. I close my eyes and breathe him in, soaking up everything that’s been denied me. By the time he pulls away, I’ve completely forgotten this is just a game. At least until he sets the glass on the table and pushes it in front of me.
“This is called a Bee’s Knees. Go easy on it, they’re stronger than they taste.”
I take a sip, remembering this same flavor on his lips, but this time getting more than just sweetness. There’s lemon and something bitter in there as well.
“What do you think?” Tex asks.
I’m not sure if he means the drinks or the kissing. "I like it."
As the drinks get low and the music goes up, I find myself fixated on if we’re going to get a third round or not. And if we do, is Ghost going to demand the same payment as Riot and Tex? He’s so different from the other two, not nearly as cold and scary as I thought at first, but he doesn’t seem like the type to joke around.
Alcohol, it turns out, is a dangerous thing, because when I finish my glass, I lick my lips and brush my fingers over my bare shoulder. I want to tease him just to see what he does. “So what drink are you going to get me?”
It's like one of those record scratch moments in a movie, where everything stops and the narrator says, "You might wonder how I ended up like this…"
Riot and Tex freeze mid conversation and look back and forth between us, half incredulous, half curious, waiting to see how it pans out.
Ghost's eyes narrow, examining me like he's got me under a microscope. Like he's mentally flipping through my possiblemotivations. Did I make a mistake here? Poking my head into a cage expecting a housecat and finding a tiger. Maybe alcohol is more trouble than I realized.
But then the corner of his mouth quirks, just a little. "You want me to pick?" The way he asks is full of implication. A threat and a promise, both of which send chills down my back.
I look at him, down at my empty glass, then back up at him. "Please."
He slides off his stool with a languid movement that's reminiscent of a great hunting cat and stalks to the bar. When he comes back, he’s carrying nothing but a tiny little glass. It looks like an itty bitty coffee with whipped cream on top.
"Come here and get it," he commands.
Hypnotized, I walk around to him. “Um, do you want me to…”
“After.”
I reach for the glass, but he takes my hands and pulls them behind my back. “How am I supposed to do it without my hands?”
Riot laughs like I said something funny. “Traditionally, you only get to use your mouth.”
“Are you guys teasing me?”
“Nah, he’s right,” Tex confirms.
Hm. I guess it’s a pretty small glass. I take a breath and lean over. Fortunately it’s a high table, so I don’t have to bend down or anything. It’s a stretch, but I get my mouth around the rim, tasting whipped cream. I feel silly as I stand up and tip my head back. I’m expecting a coffee flavor, but it’s just sweet andcreamy. Ghost is there the whole time, right behind me. He takes the glass as soon as I’ve swallowed, a tiny bit spilling out onto my lips and chin.
He buries his fingers in my hair, but instead of cupping my head like Tex did, he makes a fist so he can control where I'm looking. His other hand slides along my thigh, over my hip and then settles on my butt. He makes me look up at him with a tug on my hair, and then yanks me close, right up against him, with my face tipped up.
Ghost doesn’t give me a kiss. He takes it.
I melt against him as he plunders my mouth. There's an intensity about him, like I'm the only other person in the universe. Our kiss is only a single moment in time, both infinite and over far too soon.
It ends as suddenly as it started, and he eases me back so it's easier for us to look at each other. Someone nearby actually whistles.
“What was that?” I whisper.
He slides his index finger over my chin and pops the tip into his mouth. “Blow job shot.”
13
GHOST
