Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(95)

Frankie was laughing so hard that she had to put both hands on the bar. “Oh my God! I love you so hard when you’re tipsy!”

“Do you think he’s, like, stretching me out? I mean, he must be, because we can f**k really hard now, and at first it took him a while just to work himself inside.” I had the very lucid thought that I must be really drunk to be talking like this.

She was still dying with laughter, just shaking her head, again and again.

“Is that possible? Could that be where the term loose comes from?”

“I don’t think it works that way,” she gasped. “Babies come out of that thing.”

I nodded, thinking fuzzily that she had a good point. “And he absolutely loves eating my pu**y. Like, he could do it all day, he loves it so much. I didn’t think a man could be like that, so into getting me off.”

She was back to laughing hard and clutching the edge of the bar. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m not recording this. You are my favorite drunk ever. Let’s drink to Tristan’s oral fixation, because if anyone can appreciate going down on a girl, it would be me. Maybe he and I are like pu**y eating soul mates, because I could eat a snatch all day.”

I was giggling so hard that it took me three tries to grab the shot the bartender slid me. “You’re so bad,” I told her, dissolving into another fit of giggles.

We were both blitzed by the time the band finished their set. I cheered loudly as the small crowd went wild, then watched with longing as they left the stage, heading somewhere in back.

“I’ve only been fifty feet away from him all night, and I still missed him. Isn’t that nuts?”

“Totally. It’s also sweet. You’ve got it bad, huh?”

“So bad.”

“Well, he’s got it bad, too. Don’t you ever forget it.”

I just shook my head, unable to admit out loud that he didn’t, or if he did, he sure wasn’t telling me about it.

I felt someone kiss the top of my head, and swiveled around to see that it was Jared, not Tristan, as I’d been expecting. I grinned, nearly as happy to see him. I hopped off my barstool, giving him an exuberant hug.

“Good job! You guys were amazing, as always.”

“Thanks, sis,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. He pulled back, studying my face. “You’re sloshed, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “It’s you and your brother’s fault. I’m trying to train my liver to keep up with your lifestyle. I need to shape up to stay in the picture.”

He stroked an affectionate hand over my hair. “You don’t have to change a thing. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Even drunk, I could see that his eyes were glassy like they got when he was high, but I still thought it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.

The other four members of the band approached us just moments after that touching scene.

Tristan was smiling, not at all bothered by the fact that me and Jared were having another love fest. “You telling my baby bro how much you love him again?” he asked. He wore his fond smile, and just then I thought I might love that one the most.

“I was getting to it,” I admitted.

Tristan shouldered his brother aside playfully, moving until he was standing close, shifting his thighs between my legs. I was wearing shorts, but he parted my legs so wide that I was afraid I may have still been indecently exposing myself.

I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he buried his hands in my hair, and I quickly got distracted.

He leaned in close, his eyes smiling into mine. “I thought it was distracting to have you in the crowd, but I realized tonight that seeing you laugh at the bar while I perform is even more distracting.”

I pouted. “Sorry.” I pointed at Frankie, who was nursing a drink, and smirking at us. “It was her fault. She was making me laugh. Are you going to ban me from performances altogether now?”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded, shaking his head at me, and using his hands in my hair to shake mine with him. “Of course not. I just realized tonight that I need your full attention on me, or it drives me crazy. I think I’ve thought up another solution.”

I arched a brow at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You need a bodyguard with you in the crowd, so I don’t have to come down and break any nuts while we’re on stage. I’ll find somebody before our next gig.”

I giggled, because a bodyguard sounded like a crazy idea to me. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but never got a chance, as he bent down, slanting his lips over mine.

His mouth was hot, and hungry, devouring mine. He always tasted so good. I could never get enough. His tongue slipped into to my mouth, and I moaned, licking and sucking at him.

He pulled back briefly. “You taste like tequila,” he said breathlessly. “Had a few, huh? I think I might be able to get buzzed just tasting you.”

That made me giggle some more, and the giggling only stopped when he was kissing me again.

We necked like teenagers in the middle of a bar for God only knows how long. It was insane, and tacky, and wonderful.

His hands stayed firm on my hips as his mouth drank from mine, with long, hungry pulls. We’d never done this before, just kissed for what could have been hours. Our chemistry had always just been so crazy, our lust a race to the finish line that ended in ecstasy.