Page 47 of Wild Fire

And then he strikes.

The balls clack loudly as they ricochet across the felt, and I watch as he knocks not one, but two stripes into the cups.

“Clearly you don’t suck,” I gripe as I grab my pool stick, and do the same. I chalk it and move to set up my shot, but I know I don’t look nearly as good as he did doing this.

The last thing I want is to look like an absolute loser in front of AJ, but I also want to keep this moment—rare as it is—going as long as I can. Besides, I’ve embarrassed myself way worse in front of the man at this point, so what’s a little more iron on the fire?

“Stop,” he says, shaking his hand at me.

I stand up.

“Huh?”

AJ comes to stand beside me, and then smacks me in the stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of me, then smacks my back, just above my ass, which makes my entire body stiffen. He moves behind me, kicks at my ankles to wedge them apart, and then presses against the small of my back so that I bend forward.

I can’t breathe, my heart is racing, and my blood is pooling straight to my cock.

Holy fuck!

“First, you need a solid foundation,” he says, his voice low, dark.

He taps my thigh.

“Lean forward, put your ass out.”

Heat floods my cheeks, and my cock twitches in my damn pants, and there is a sense of embarrassment, but also… arousal and…

This need I can’t explain to do exactly as he says.

But I’m also acutely aware that we are in public—in a crowded bar, nonetheless—and everyone can see us.

Can see me.

AJ’s lips graze the shell of my ear. “Ass out.”

He smacks my hip, and I do as he says, my entire body hot like a flame.

“Good boy,” he purrs in my ear.

He slides his arms over mine, positioning the stick in between my knuckles with one hand and then pushes back on my chest, squaring my shoulders with the other, and the motion puts my ass right against him.

Against his fucking dick.

His hard fucking dick. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel dizzy, and I know it’s not from the two beers I stretched out over this evening.

“Which ball do you want to hit?”

I close my eyes and try to regain my composure, because I know telling him “yours” is a bad idea.

Clearly.

“Y-you pick,” I say, my voice flustered and strained because fucking hell, I can feel him against my ass and it’s making me hard right now and the reality is both thrilling and terrifying.

“No,” he says, his voice low as he whispers in my ear.

“Don’t think about it, just pick one.”

I swallow, hard, the words heavy on my tongue as I speak.