Alcohol You Later (27)

I snort laugh at the look of outrage that crosses Anika’s face over Raven’s drunk-whispered observation. Pretty sure that shit traveled all the way to the parking lot.

Once the light flashes green, I lower the knob, giving the door a hard shove with my shoulder. Like a pair of horny teenagers, we stumble inside, unable to keep our hands or mouths off each other.

She’s sex crazed, wildly ripping her hands through my hair and over my pecks while ravishing my lips. Raven is always raring to go, but her urgency tonight is bordering on desperation.

To have a woman—this woman in particular—literally aching for my cock is a high I’ve never come close to reaching with any drug.

Raven’s the only one who’s ever been enough all on her own to quiet the demons. Sex with her isn’t just a means to expend the influx of energy that comes with performing, but a ritual that both calms and comforts.

The truth is, I’m never more at peace than I am with her wrapped in my arms. It’s thrilling—and terrifying.

Because no matter how badly I might want it, I will never be the man who deserves forever with her.

Fuck if I don’t find myself envisioning it anyway.

There’s an inherently selfish side of me that yearns to reach out and take it. I could…easily. But I still don’t know whether it’s love or addiction that keeps me craving this raven-haired goddess.

She deserves more from life than to serve as my perpetual high. More than some junkie feeding on her day after day, draining her of her light to fuel his own selfish desires.

A better man would end this…would stop toying with her heart. But I’ve never claimed to be noble—never hidden who I am. There are no secrets between us, and that’s how I justify this arrangement. It’s how I’m able to sleep at night.

Or maybe largely to blame for why I don’t?

“Nicholas,” she mewls, grinding against my thigh, drawing me back to the here and now.

“Mmmm,” I rumble, sampling the liquor on her tongue. “You taste like a real good time, little lady.” I swallow her giggle, immediately diving back in, thrusting in long languid strokes, drowning every negative, self-deprecating thought threatening to steal this moment.

With a swift backward kick, I ensure that the door shut fully, sending up a silent thanks to whoever invented the auto-lock feature.

I wouldn’t put it past Anika to barge in after us if the opportunity presented itself.

“Oh, you know well by now that I am nothing if not a good time.” Her sultry tone further sets my blood ablaze.

Fighting every natural urge I possess, I break away, taking a moment to scan the tiny room while we catch our breath—it’s fitted with no more than a vanity, mirror, stool, and a counter lining the far wall. Not nearly as luxurious as we’re used to. But sometimes those are the breaks with these smaller venues. “I could have you on the bus in thirty minutes…” I push her sweaty locks back from her forehead, tilting her chin up with my knuckle. “It won’t be very comfortable in here.”

Despite how badly I want to be inside her, after what I’ve put her through tonight, the least I can do is be patient enough to offer a bed and a thorough fucking. This woman deserves to be worshipped—every inch of her skin lavished with attention.

“No way.” Shaking her head, she fumbles with the button on my jeans, her movements frantic. Raven Winters is a woman on a mission. “I will explode before then, Nicholas.”

It’s the seriousness in her tone that has me biting back a laugh.

When a snort slips through, she responds by pinching my nipple and giving it a good twist. “I amuse you?” Her question is posed as more of an affronted statement, requiring no response as she proceeds to lower the zipper and dip her hand inside, palming my cock.

“Slow down, pretty girl.” My erection begins to throb, and my tongue swells. I’m hot, everywhere—the veins in my forearms protruding as adrenaline surges through at a feverish pace. I’ll never be able to make this last if she doesn’t ease up.

Her fist tightens around my shaft in silent warning. “Your next move will determine whether this little experiment of yours is a major hit or total miss.” Her chest heaves as the flush in her cheeks travels to her neck and settles at the tops of her pillowy breasts. “And whether I’ll be down for any more of your torture games.” She cocks her head to the side, an unspoken “choose wisely” made clear in her expression.

“As you wish.” Fisting her long locks into a ponytail, I give it a firm tug, using it as a lead to guide her toward the vanity. When her ass knocks against the wood, I plant my hands on either side of her, gripping the edge. “Hop up.”

Staring up at me, she clamps her lower lip between her teeth, fanning those thick lashes of hers as she perches on the end of the fancy furniture and immediately resumes her quest to free my cock.

With a backward jerk, I seize her hand. “Not yet,” I say, bringing her pointer to my mouth and sucking the digit agonizingly slow, my eyes cemented to hers. “I’d like to start with a little snack.”

Her glossy green orbs widen at the suggestion. “By all means,” she says, uncrossing her ankles and leaning back to brace her weight on her palms. With practiced slowness, she parts her legs just slightly, her position a clear invitation.

Gripping her thighs, I spread her wider. “You’ve been tortured, have you?”