Page 46 of Score
“He’s working. Borrrrrring.” I grin. “It’s just me.”
Her eyes rake over my body, a look she has given me more than once, but which I’ve never encouraged.
“I doubt you’ll be alone for long,” she says, “looking like that, but if you’re still solo at the end of the night, come find me.”
I don’t confirm or protest, but I do return her smile when she tugs one of my wayward curls. Harmless flirting. Monk wouldn’t mind.
Shelby seats me at a table in the middle of the room, the center of the universe. The air-conditioning pebbles my nipples beneath the thin silk of my dress. The wood of the chair is cool under the hot skin baked onto my thighs. My body is too tight for my heart, which is pounding to escape my chest. Under the table, my fingers twitch between my legs. I want to get myself off right here. I squirm, so turned-on I hope I don’t leave a wet spot on this dress.
God, I can still taste Monk’s dick in my mouth. I lick my lips and bitedown. I needed that release so bad. I still need it. He doesn’t understand how this feels. A million fire ants are crawling under my skin. A furnace is blazing all over me, setting my pores on fire. I need to befucked. He could make this feeling go away. That man can make me come at fifty paces, and he couldn’t take a few minutes out of his busy schedule to fuck his girl?
“Work, my ass,” I mutter, looking over the menu.
“Buy you a drink?”
I look up to find a guy standing beside my table. He’s medium height. Medium brown. I would probably forget him within the hour. He’s not as tall or handsome as Monk. He doesn’t radiate the confidence and charisma that comes so naturally to Monk. He can’t hold a candle to my boyfriend.
But Monk’s not here.
“I don’t drink.” I gesture to one of the three empty seats at the table. “But you’re welcome to join me.”
Looking shocked by the invitation, he takes the chair beside me and scoots a little closer.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Derrick,” he replies eagerly.
Monk’s not here, but Derrick is.
“A shame you don’t drink,” he says in what I assume is his sexy voice. “Because you look so good, I was planning to buy you anything you want.”
“Oh,” I say, my painted lips in a moue. “In that case, just this once, maybe I will.”
Two baskets of fries and three pitchers of beer later, Derrick and I have been joined by Luke and Carl. Robert and Jonathan have pulled up chairs, and we’re having a good ol’ time. I’ve even moved on to margaritas.
“So are you like a dancer or something?” Carl… I think… asks. “With that body.”
“A dancer?” I scoff. “Me? You think I look like a dancer?”
“You got the legs for it, yeah,” Robert says, running a finger from my knee to the top of my thigh.
My emotions and thoughts are a swirly muddle, and I’m not sure if I cross my leg to get away from his touch or to entice him. I never drinkand have zero tolerance. The alcohol has made my head fuzzy, and yet my senses are sharpened to a fine point. It’s loud and hot, and every smell in the room attacks my nostrils at once. My tongue feels too big for my mouth, and yet words keep pouring out of me. Every time one of the guys tries to speak, I talk right over him. Iwantto stop talking, but you can’t screw a cap on a geyser.
“Most of the time,” I tell my table of admirers, “I can barely get up the nerve to dance in a crowd.”
“I would never have guessed that,” Jonathan says. “A woman like you?”
“And what kind of woman am I?” I quirk a brow and lick my lips, loving the way he can’t take his eyes off me. None of them can.
“The kind who can have anybody she wants, who can do whatever she wants,” Luke says, caressing the nape of my neck.
“Careful,” I purr, my voice lilting and husky. “This halter top isn’t very secure. We wouldn’t want it to fall down.”
Their laughter, eager and lusty, floats on the air around me. Their desire sinks through my skin, watering me. Refreshing me and heating me simultaneously. J. Holiday’s “Bed” plays in the background, and an invisible rope suspended from the ceiling wraps around my waist and coaxes me to my feet.
“Like I said, I don’t usually dance,” I say, spreading a flirtatious look around the table. “But it’s your lucky night.”
The air cools my wet pussy. My nipples are drawn so hard and tight it’s almost painful. None of the guys can drag their eyes higher than my neck.
