The Other P-Word Page 16

  “Evan,” I begged, fisting his hair.

  “I’m gonna take care of you, Billie. I’m just getting acquainted.”

  “Evan, I want you inside of me.”

  He looked at me, his intense expression making me squirm harder. “New rule, baby. One I forgot to mention. I get to fuck you the way I want. And I really want to fuck you with my tongue, so that’s just what I’m fixing to do. Are we clear?”

  “Yes.”

  He blew warm breath against me, causing me to shake. Then he kissed me there, the same way he’d kissed my other lips. When he finally Frenched me, I almost lost it. Evan didn’t do things fast…his actions, like his voice, were slow and sensual. One thing was for sure…Evan Wright spoke fluent cunnilingus. He’d go fast drawing me to a precipice, then slow suddenly, pressing his lips almost tenderly. I flattened my palm against the mattress, trying to keep my voice to an acceptable audible level, and failing. He peered up, his eyes locking with mine. His tongue strummed my clit. My legs shook in response. He sucked me, changing up the rhythm. He flicked me with that tongue. He even slurped. Then he hummed. He fucking hummed! The vibrations journeyed through my whole body. I lost myself in a moment that felt completely satisfying and…blissful. When I came out of that state, he stood before me with a square of gold foil in his hand…naked.

  “You look really good in my bed, Billie Marie.”

  “I feel really good in your bed, Evan.”

  I drank in the image of his body in the dim lights of the room. His broad chest, muscular arms and that inverted triangle of hair that trailed down his ridges. There were no bones about it, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen…well there was one bone about it and it was quite large. No doubts here…he was a stud, but where was his stud?

  “Where’s your piercing?”

  The bed dipped with his weight. He set his glasses aside and pointed to his left eyebrow. “Here, but I took it out.”

  “I thought it was…”

  He laughed, cutting off the statement. “I know exactly what you thought, Billie.”

  “Why did you let me think it then?”

  His thumb rubbed across my bottom lip. “Because you thinking about my dick is a turn-on for me.”

  And me too, Evan…me too.

  “Do you think I’m the kind of masochist that pierces his junk?”

  “What kind of masochist are you?”

  When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, raspy and rough. “The kind that can listen to the hot as hell girl next door play with herself while stringing out a decent version of Van Halen. You have no idea how difficult that was.”

  I opened my mouth but he covered it with his. He clasped each of my wrists and pulled me up onto his lap. I sank onto him, enjoying every inch of my descent. Wrapping my legs around him, I moaned my pleasure. He growled his.

  He gripped my back, lowering me so he could take my nipple into his mouth. The way his tongue danced across my sensitive skin was too much. I dug my fingernails into shoulders. He pinched my nipple between his teeth, hard enough to make me gasp but not so hard that I didn’t enjoy it. I held onto him, trying to move with grace, but it was clear Evan led us. He rolled his hips and lifted mine, directing our tempo. I raked my fingers across his back. Before I could register the movement I lay flat on my back, his weight against me. He curled my fingers over the scrolling metal of the headboard.

  “Hold on,” he grunted.

  He sat back, keeping us connected. He kissed my each of my ankles before bending my legs at the knees. I’d never been in this position before. It was like some sort of awkward twister pose. But when he began thrusting, there was nothing awkward about it. I made new sounds I’d never heard. It was hard, feral and deep. I clasped his shoulder as he rocked us. The bed moved with us, squeaking with each pulse. A bead of sweat rolled down his chest until it landed on my waist. The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, covering his face in a golden glow, almost like a spotlight on a god. His hair, damp and disheveled, looked so sexy I arched myself to touch it. I pulled it until his face met mine. My lips crashed into his.

  “I like it that you’re loud.”

  “I’m usually not,” I panted in a way that I thought was incoherent, but his smile told me he understood.

  “I love it now.” He grasped my ass, pulling me onto his lap.

  Evan picked up the pace, his fucks like a torpedo…smooth, fast, unyielding. I gave into it, surrendering my whole body to waves of pleasure.

  He pulled out of me, rolling off the condom. The sight of him rearing his head in the early morning light, stroking himself until he came on my breasts, was erotic and beautiful at the same time.

  He placed a hand on either side of me, his hair messy, his eyes blazing, his breath heavy.

  “You’re too fucking beautiful to be real,” he whispered.

  He stood, taking the condom with him. I heard the faucet turn on in the bathroom. I flexed my hands. They hurt from holding the metal of the headboard. My knuckles were almost white, but it was worth it. When he came back he sat beside me with two warm, damp washcloths and a cold bottle of water. He handed me the water. I resisted the urge to sigh with gratitude when he cleaned me. I hadn’t been expecting him to be tender and caring in this way. I almost wished he wasn’t.

  “I got carried away,” he said.

  “Wherever you went, you took me with you. It’s a trip I want to take again and again.”

  He massaged my hands and kissed each of my palms. “Me too.”

  He stood, walking over to window, revealing the fine planes of his body. I was disappointed when he shut the blinds, abruptly cutting off my view. In the darkness, he lay next to me.

  “Let the cuddling commence,” he whispered, spooning me, my back against his chest.

  I kissed his arm. “Good night, Evan.”

  “Good morning, Billie Marie.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was late afternoon when I woke. I felt the absence of him immediately. It saddened me. Then I heard him shuffling around.

  “Evan?”

  “Hey,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He tucked a stray hair behind my ear. He was fully dressed. I did my best not to pout. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m running out to do some errands but I’ll be back before the bar opens.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said, sitting up and stretching. “I’ll get out of here.”

  He massaged my shoulder. “Sleep some more. We stayed up all night.”

  The idea of sleeping in his bed was too enticing to pass up. It smelled like him and me and the crazy sex we’d had. I nodded, content to stay in that realm between sleepy and satisfied. I blinked, trying to concentrate on his words and not the muscles of the arms that had held me all night. “Billie, before I forget, I wanted to ask you if Tilla told you about Frisky Frank.”

  “No—that’s his name?”

  “I don’t know what the fuck his name is. That’s just what I call him. Anyway, he comes in on Monday nights sometimes. He sits at the end of the bar, older guy, balding and handsy.”

  “I gotcha. So I should watch myself with him.”

  “I don’t want you to serve him at all. Brick, Mike, or I get his drinks.”

  “Evan, I appreciate it, but I can handle myself.”

  He released an aggravated breath. “I have no doubt you can, Price, but here’s the thing, if he gets grabby with you, I will lose my shit. Do me a favor and listen to me on this one.”

  I swallowed, both touched and confused by what he said. He was making it too easy to fall for him. “Sure, Evan.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed my forehead.

  I almost embraced him, but stopped myself because he stood right away.

  He paused before he closed the door. “Are you nervous about tonight?” His voice was much lighter than I was used to.

  “Why would I be nervous?”

  “You’ll be on your own. It’s different when you’re not shadowing someone.”
<
br />   “I can do this.”

  “I’m sure you can, but ask for help if you need it. Everyone needs help once in a while,” he said before closing the door.

  * * * *

  Why the hell had I thought I could do this? A bartender had called in sick, requiring me to make many of my own drinks. People yelled out names of things I’d never heard of. What the hell is an Anus Burner, and why would you want to drink one? Gross.

  Tilla made it looked so easy. How did she do that?

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” I said to the giggling girls in a corner booth.

  “Can you make sure there’s actually alcohol in them this time?” a gorgeous, petite girl asked me. Her obnoxious comment didn’t match her appearance, but then again, liquor had a way of peeling back all the pretty things.

  “All the shots are measured out.”

  She crossed her arms, egged on by her girlfriends. “Then obviously you’re doing something wrong. Evan makes the drinks perfect. The ones you’ve brought us are weak.” She was talking about the drinks, but in my head I heard, You’re weak.

  My teeth clenched so hard, I could probably crack open a nut. “He’s busy,” I said, pointing to the stage. Really, I wanted to tell her he was busy with me.

  I stormed back to the bar.

  “You okay, Price?” Evan asked during one of his breaks when I was getting the gaggle of girls another round.

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t look fine… Actually, scratch that, you do look fine. Stressed out maybe, but always very very fine. Need help?”

  “These girls at the corner booth keep complaining about the drinks. How much alcohol do they think is in a daiquiri? Why don’t they girl up and order a real drink?”

  “Yeah, I know them.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I was pissed off and it was coming out in this horrible, jealous, passive-aggressive way that I hated. I ignored him, getting the glasses.

  “They said you make stronger drinks. Do you not measure?”

  “I can eye it because I’ve done it for so long, but I never give more than what they pay for. Bars lose money when you start giving away liquor. There isn’t that much of a profit margin in the first place.”

  “Where the hell in the metal thingy?”

  Evan chuckled, sliding it to me. “It’s called a jigger.”

  “Whatever.” I doled out the liquid in the silver cup, but before I poured it into the daiquiri he grasped my wrist.

  “Let me show you something.” He poured most of the shot into the drink then held up the metal glass where a tiny amount of liquid remained.

  “You’re giving them less alcohol? How is that going to help?”

  “It’s a bartender trick.” He placed a straw in the drink and poured the remaining contents of the jigger straight into it. “The first sip from the straw is pure alcohol. They’ll think the rest of the drink is equally strong.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “They won’t fall for that.”

  “They will and they have. Why do you think they ask for me?”

  I knew why they asked for him, but I kept that opinion to myself. I placed the drinks on my tray. He bent close to my ear. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s not your stuff. I’m feeling vulnerable.”

  “Why?”

  “Because being with you is like…being with a…a—”

  “A rock star?” he offered.

  “I was going to say porn star but yeah, a little of both I guess.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  My mind said yes, but my mouth mumbled the word no.

  He took the tray from me and set it down. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back against his hard chest. “Don’t let your head get in the way of what we have, Price. Because in my head, it’s only you that’s taking up all the space.” He kissed the back of my neck, causing a shiver to course down my spine. “Replace those troubled thoughts.”

  “With what?”

  He took my hands and placed them on the bar. The bulge in his pants was present at my lower back. “When everyone leaves tonight, I’m gonna fuck you on this bar.”

  His husky voice and the feel of his lips on my neck made the temperature soar.

  “That worked,” I choked.

  “Good. Remember, Price, we own the night.”

  When I walked away, my legs were wobbly, proving it wasn’t just my drinks that were weak.

  “Now this is what I call a drink,” the obnoxious girl said after she took the first sip.

  “Evan taught me,” I replied, enjoying the way her smile tightened.

  I kept glancing at the stage for the rest of the night. Damn…I wanted the night to be over. Luckily, the bar hummed with enough activity that the hours went by fast. I paused when Evan played a song I’d never heard, his deep voice dripping with emotion. The lyrics were so coincidental that it was apparent he meant them for me, but even with that thought, I gazed around the bar aware that every girl in the place was imagining the same thing.

  “What song is this?” I asked Tilla.

  “You’ve never heard this?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s We Owned the Night by Lady Antebellum. Sexy and sweet, don’t you think?”

  It was mean of him to sing a song this beautiful. He was giving me false hope. Then again, it was me who’d asked for this to feel like a real relationship. I’d set the rules and now I was complaining about them. Girl up, Billie.

  When he sang The Sex is Good by Saving Abel, I sang along in my head. That was a more appropriate choice for the theme song of Evan and Billie.

  Afterward, Evan thanked everyone for coming and announced they were done.

  People demanded an encore. Evan smiled, his lips close to the microphone, “Mike is going do the encore, aren’t you, Mike?”

  “What?” Mike asked, then realization hit him. “Oh yeah.” He started the tune to Closing Time. The crowd murmured their disappointment in response.

  “You guys go on home. Billie and I can lock up,” Evan said, once it was just the four of us.

  “We’ll stay. You guys did it last night,” Tilla replied.

  “And we want to do it again,” Evan muttered in a voice low enough only I could hear.

  I struggled not to crack up.

  Evan rushed around, putting up chairs and sweeping under tables so fast that even Mike said we finished in record time.

  “Tomorrow is our night off,” Tilla said. “But Evan and Brick can handle things. Don’t be afraid to ask them any questions.”

  “Are you doing anything fun?” I asked her.

  “No,” Mike said too fast. Tilla made a face at him.

  “We’re going to my parents’ house for dinner,” she explained.

  “Are you bringing her dad a nice bottle of wine, Mike?” Evan asked in an amused voice.

  Tilla laughed and Mike scowled.

  I looked between them. “I’m sensing an inside joke here.”

  Mike set up four shot glasses on the counter. “I’ll tell you, but let’s have a shot first. I can use one to get ready for tomorrow. Tilla’s dad doesn’t like me.”

  I couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Mike. He was easy-going and funny.

  “He loves you, baby,” Tilla said. She looked at me. “You have to know my father. He’s sort of like Bernie Mac in that movie Guess Who.”

  “I’ve seen it,” I said.

  “More like Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction,” Mike muttered. “The man is scary.”

  “Tell me about it,” Evan said. “I almost didn’t ask her out ’cause of that man. I swear he had a rifle with my name on it.”

  “He has several dedicated to me,” Mike said.

  I looked between Evan and Tilla. “You two dated?”

  “A long time ago,” Tilla said. “We’re definitely better as friends.”

  Mike smiled, making it clear there was
no animosity between them. He kissed his wife’s hand. “She was just waiting for the man of her dreams to sweep her off her feet.”

  “Yeah, but then you came along and thwarted her plans,” Evan said.

  Mike snorted. “Did you just say thwarted, Wright?”

  “Cut it out, boys. Let me tell the story,” Tilla said, rubbing Mike’s shoulders. “See, Mike and I had been going out for a few months and he wanted to do something special for my twenty-first birthday, so he made reservations at this really expensive French restaurant. He saved up for months and even studied the menu so he could order in French.”

  “That’s impressive, Mike.”

  Tilla sat in his lap. “I know, right?”

  “But I accidently ordered the wrong year of wine. I thought it was fifty bucks and instead it was over five hundred.”

  “When the bill came he didn’t have enough money to pay and neither did I,” Tilla finished the story. “We tried to work something out with the restaurant but they threatened to call the police.”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “We called my dad. That was the first time he met Mike. Needless to say, it was a bad first impression.”

  “And even though I paid him back every cent, the man’s never let me live it down.”

  “Yeah but now you have this great chapter in your love story.” I picked up the shot glass. “Let’s toast to laughing at our mistakes.”

  “And learning from them,” Mike said.

  “And forgiving yourself,” Tilla added.

  We all looked at Evan.

  “What?”

  “Don’t you want to add something?” I asked.

  “I don’t need a prelude to drink.”

  “Evan, you can leave Cynical City once in a while and join the rest of us,” I said, dragging him toward the bar.

  “I thought I lived in Surly Ville?”

  I shrugged. “I’m going to have to downgrade you if you don’t make a toast. Trust me, you don’t want to live in Cynical City. They have a high crime rate and the taxes are ridiculous.”

  “You guys gonna let us in on your joke?” Tilla asked.