He laughs, tossing back his whiskey.
“Something funny?” I quirk an eyebrow and take a small sip of my drink. There’s no way I’m losing control with alcohol, who knows what I’d say. I’m not worried what I’d do, just my mouth. It always seems to get me in trouble.
“Yeah, the fact that you’re insatiable is rather funny.”
“I’m in control. Complete control.” I stretch my arms wide to accentuate my point.
My point is pretty bent because I’m not in control at all. He makes me all… stupid.
He regards me by pouring more whiskey. “We’re playing twenty-one questions.” I can do this. I think. I can lie, I’m rather good at lying. I look at Bryant, his eyes connecting with mine and holding my attention far too effortlessly for my comfort.
Ok, nope. I don’t think I can lie to that. Fuck.
I throw back another shot of whiskey. “Is this like husband-wife bonding time?”
His eyes narrow at me in obvious annoyance. “Something like that.”
“Okay, fine, I’ll start!” Down goes another shot, to hell with not losing control, this is going to be torturous. “Do I annoy you?”
“Oh that’s easy.” He grins, and goddamn I would give my left arm to see that grin again. Not really, because I’m left-handed so that arm is pretty important, but Bryant always has a great grin. “Yes. Daily.” He finishes with a wink. “My turn…”
I’m not even surprised by that answer, I wanted to start easy. You don’t fuck someone in the ass on the first date.
Or do you.
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Shit. That was hot too. Focus. I need to focus. “How many times have you orgasmed in one session?”
Well, it appears, Bryant does fuck someone in the ass on the first date. He hits it raw too, no lube.
I choke on my whiskey.
“Oh shit.” He pats my shoulder sarcastically. “It seems you had a different idea about twenty-one questions.” Then he laughs and relaxes back into his chair.
I narrow my eyes at him, swiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t know. There was this one time… I think, it’s like four.”
“Four.”
I nod. “Four.” Holding four fingers up before grabbing the bottle and pouring more into my cup. “My turn!” I place the bottle back onto the counter. “Do you hate me?”
He’s still silent by my number revelation, but he searches my eyes and seems to think over my question. “What? Like in the bedroom or everyday living?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, either…”
He seems to mull over my question. A couple jaw clenches later, he answers,
“Yes.” I down my entire drink. Okay, so his hate is real.
“Why did you have sex with Devon?” He flicks his glass away from him slightly.
“Because it’s comfortable…” I begin while thinking what I should say next and of course, taking control of the bottle of whiskey. “He knows what I like and how I like it. He needs it as bad as I do and it just, I don’t know. It always worked for us.”
Bryant nods. “I get that.” He does?
Wow. I’m shocked.
Knowing it’s my turn, I look right into his eyes. “Why do you keep asking me about sex? Why no real questions?”
He chuckles, his cold eyes flicking blankly over my shoulder. “Because I know everything else that there is to know about you, Isa.”
“You’re cocky.”
“Very. And I have a big one, so…”
“You’re not very funny though…” I lie, the effects of the alcohol slowly slipping into the driver’s seat of my thoughts.
“I don’t want to be funny.”
“I like funny.”
“And I don’t give a fuck what you like.”
My eyes narrow. His narrow back.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What?” He chuckles. “That I don’t know everything that there is to know about you?”
Long pause. “Yes. I don’t believe you.”
His glass dangles lazily between his fingers as he tilts his head and runs his piercing eyes up and down my body. Slowly but surely, it’s as if he’s undressing me with his stare. “Isa Maree Johnson, one sister, mom ran away when you were a baby, sister is the poster child of the family, you’re the rebel—one of the reasons why your favorite color is black—you have three piercings, three tattoos, childhood best friend—except for Devon—was Jennifer Black, first car was a piece of shit Honda, you play the lottery for the excitement even though you know you’d never win and you have enough money in your trust account to put the lottery winners to shame, oh, and you’ve always wanted to be an architect.” My mouth is still open when he finishes because everything he said was spot-on. I’m appalled. And a little turned on.
“How?”
He grabs his drink again. “I knew everything about you before you even knew I existed.”
Standing from his chair, he looks down at me and I look up at him, my eyes crossing slightly at the angle. Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I run my eyes down his long massive body and then stop near his zipper.
I need to touch him.
Reaching up, I press the palm of my hand against his chest, and his eyes close in response. Standing to my feet slowly, I unbutton his dress shirt with one pop at a time. Just as I hit the final button, his eyes slam open, straight onto mine, with fire burning deep inside of them. He drops his forehead down to my own before kissing me, his soft lips pressing against mine. He’s a great kisser. Usually, he’s raw, rough, and there’s always a lot of tongue but this one is tender. Still a lot of tongue and still rough, but the pace of his tongue massaging mine is slower. I lose control slightly, moaning into his mouth while wrapping my arms around his neck. He palms my ass, gripping my cheek tightly while grinding me into his massive bulge.
I grind against it until a low groan escapes him and he’s picking me up off the ground. My legs wind around his waist all while we never break out of our intimate kiss. Then the kissing turns frantic, desperate. He steps forward until my back
collides against the wall, my head hitting the glass with a thud. Gripping my breast from under my dress, he tears my dress off of my body and throws it to the ground before ripping my bra off and sucking a nipple into his mouth.
“For the record, I didn’t plan this…” he smirks, hooking his finger into my panties and yup you guessed it, tearing the suckers right off.
Stepping backward, while taking all of my nakedness in, he smirks. Now, I don’t know the full details of why he married me, I mean, I know it has to do with my dad and making my life miserable, but right now, he’s not succeeding with the miserable side—in fact, I’m getting rather annoyed at how something nudges in my chest every time he looks at me with his hungry predatory glare.
“Fuck me,” I blurt out before I dive headfirst into feelings I don’t particularly want to so much as test the waters with right now.
He drops to his knees, tossing my leg over his shoulder and blows on my clit until my back is arching off the wall and my wetness dripping down my inner thigh.
“After I’ve eaten.”
Coming down slightly with sweat dripping off my skin, I feel my eyes getting drowsy and heavy. Leaning against the glass wall while clutching his suit jacket around my naked body, I watch as he gets up from the floor butt naked and saunters toward the bar, taking out a couple of bottled waters from the fridge. I take that time to tilt my head and watch his perfect ass flex with each step. Then he’s frontal, his gigantic heavy dick right there as he comes back to me with a smug grin on his face, tossing a bottle at me. His usually perfectly styled hair is sitting all messy and unruly on the top of his head and his abs are glistening against the dim bar light.
The sun has far since set and now the sky is filled with bright stars that are twinkling over us.
Bryant leans against the wall beside me, taking a gulp of water.
I laugh. “So much for twenty-one questions.”
He swallows. “Well, we got to four.”
“True…” I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex with someone who hates me, though.” There’s a long pause. I didn’t mean it to sound like I was sad about it, or that I even cared, but the fact that my stupid fucking filter didn’t do me a solid when it should have and now Bryant is going to think that out of those four questions, that was the one that got to me, yeah, that fact annoys me.