The Deal Dilemma

There’s no sign of the sun when my eyes slowly open. I blink into the darkness, a sense of warmth washing over me and delivering my dream to the forefront of my mind.

I close my eyes once more, hoping to fall right back into fantasyland, but as I settle into the pillow, soft hairs brush along my bare legs as a knee presses between mine. Everything floods back in my mind like a sweet, sweet tsunami.

Holy shit, last night happened. Like… actually happened.

Every touch, every caress, and every sound that slipped from his lips, possibly unintentionally, perhaps subconsciously, was real. He might have been giving me a lesson in true stimulation, but the way his body moved with mine, and the raspy, raw responses my pleasure brought out in him can’t be denied. His wayward whispering, good god.

I’d push you to your knees, so you could try the flavor of us, straight off the tip of my throbbing, dripping cock.

A shiver runs down my spine, heat blanketing me, but it isn’t in memory of a fierce fantasy turned reality. It radiates off the man behind me. The man I’ve imagined between my legs, more times than I care to admit, is at my back, his limbs tangled with mine.

Maybe I did the tangling? Played “Baby Got Back” and drove my ass into him in my sleep?

Pulling in a deep breath, I ready to return his space, but before I can so much as inch away, a heavy, warm arm falls over me, a giant hand pressing on my stomach, rough, long fingers spanning over my abdomen.

“Don’t even fucking think about it.” Crew’s voice is thick with sleep, and he tugs me into him, his hold locking tighter around me. His nose is buried in my hair, the heat of his breath fanning over the nape of my neck. “Breathe, Sweets. Breathe and sleep.”

A tingle begins at the base of my scalp and spreads from there. I clench my thighs.

“Stop.” Crew grunts in disapproval.

“You know I hate that word, right?”

“Davis. Sleep.”

“Right, yeah.” Sleep.

Is he crazy?!

The come stun was strong. Layla might have been there to distract me, but I couldn’t tell you how long I lasted playing dice.

Hell, I can’t even tell you how I ended up back in this teepee, the hottest man on the planet wrapped around me like a snake who’s scored its next meal.

I didn’t drink a drop after that half cup I had while dancing.

Maybe I was come drunk?

Is that a thing?

Oh my god, I was fingered at a festival with a hundred people around!

Oh my god, I’d go for it again in a heartbeat.

Never in my life have I been so wet, so turned on.

So shocked he allowed such a lesson when he’s so keen on denying me.

And people say fingering is overrated. Clearly, they haven’t had Crew Taylor’s long, strong, flexible fingers inside them.

My smile couldn’t be wider as I pretend to pass out because, lesson or not?

Crew made me come, and he enjoyed every second of it.

Now, to learn how to repay the piper.

Unfortunately for me, there’s no time to talk to Crew about what I want him to teach me next. Layla poked her head in at the break of daylight and bargained for my release from Crew’s concrete clutches.

It was kind of fun, hearing him refuse to let me loose, as if he wanted to keep me there beside him, but he did trade my presence for Layla’s promise of pie.

So yeah, there’s that.

Last night after we closed down, we cleaned and packed up all the little things, so all that’s left today is deconstructing the booth and loading up the barbecue. Willie, being the swoony, hot husband he is, traded a couple cases of his next batch of beer for a pampering day for his queen after the long weekend, with a plus-one, so she invited me.

After a quick stop for snacks, we headed toward town, and here we are, four hours later, falling in and out of sleep, in side-by-side baths, full of steaming lavender leaves.

“Will is so getting his dick sucked tonight.”

My eyes snap open, and I look to Layla, who cracks one eye and smiles.

“If I had my phone, I would record your face right now and send it to Crew.”

My brows draw closer. “Why?”

“Because you look so completely curious.” She slowly brings her glass of sparkling cider to her lips, grinning over the rim. “Mouth virgin, too?”

The water is warm, mine more so than hers, baby and all, so my body is already flushed, but heat still blooms in my chest.

“It’s on the list.”

Layla chuckles. “How long is this list?”

“Long.” My response is quick and grumpy.

Layla laughs louder. “Well, from what I saw last night, it’s getting shorter.”

My mouth gapes, and she shrugs playfully.

“Hey, you listened, I watched. We’re square now.” She holds her fist out.

Flaming cheeks and all, I meet hers with my own.

“We should start getting ready. The band sets up around seven, and the boys will only be able to hold a table for us for so long. That or I’ll have to whoop some bar bish ass when they try and take the seat beside my man,” she teases, tapping on her belly.

“How are you not completely exhausted?” I look at her belly as she climbs out.

“Oh, I’m getting there, but I figure I won’t get to do all this stuff for a while, so until my body tells me to chill, I shall not.” She chuckles, nodding her head, and I follow her out of the water. “So, a couple of my friends are coming over this week. They ordered some fancy pasta from a place I could never afford, and we’re dedicating the day to floating in the pool.”

I look at her, and she smiles.

“You should come. You met Toni already, and Remy gets along with everyone, you’ll meet her tonight at the show, but seriously, come.”

“Really?” I try not to seem too eager, but I could seriously use some girl time.

Have I ever had girl time before today?

“Would I bother to mention it if not?”

Good point. No, she wouldn’t.

“You sure Crew won’t mind if I crash?”

“Oh, girl. No. Crew would be the one crashing if he showed up. It’s vaginas only.”

“Then yeah. Count me in.”

“Awesome. Now, let’s let these ladies doll us up.”

I follow Layla into the third, fourth, and final stop of the spa—a full-fledged salon.

Two hours and a bowl of fresh fruit later, we’re headed for the bar.

Crew

Pausing at the edge of the counter, I cross my arms with a glare, and not a second later, Drew and Willie join me, both wearing matching expressions.

“How long ’til we can kick everyone out?” Willie grumbles.

“Two hours, eight and a half minutes,” Drew complains.

My frown deepens as he stares at the caramel-haired girl who’s far too lickable in lavender, the same shade of purple as the candy necklace stretched around her neck. Her hair is sleek and shiny, looking like Queen Cleopatra, but a softer shade. She’s got another pin in it today, this one shaped like one of those little twisty hard candies. It’s bright blue and doesn’t match the light purple of her dress, but if she took it off, I’d pin it right back into place—a few inches back on her left side. It looks good, fits her.

Reminds me she’s as sweet on the outside as on the inside.

Why didn’t I slide my finger between my lips last night after the cockblockers stole her from me and led her away?

It was right there, her cum, her flavor, creamy and wet on my skin, but I wanted her watching, witnessing the second my tongue became coated in her.

But back to the dress.

How easily I could slide inside. If she were to climb on top of me again tonight, what would I find underneath it?

More matching panties? Maybe the ones with the little jewel?

Need to have a look at those…

Julius stomps over, throwing his ass in the chair in front of us, spinning around to scowl toward the girls. “Man, watching them is a full-time gig. Every fuckhead in here is trying to slide into their pussy-power powwow.”

Davis, Layla, Remy, and Toni are all tucked toward the right side of the stage, dancing in their own little world, clueless and uncaring that they’ve become the center of a dozen fuckers’ attention.

Xavier scoffs, Neo stepping up beside him. “Who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to bring them here?”

Sighing, I lift a finger, and when I face the group, all their frowns deepen, but I beat them to the punch.

“What the fuck was I thinking?”

My boys chuckle, drawing one out of me, and slowly, we get back to our posts. Me and Drew behind the bar, Will helping all around, and the other two on Layla-and-Davis duty. All right, they’re watching all the girls, but let’s be honest, it’s those two they’d get their ass handed to them for losing.

Julius slams a quick shot and rushes back to the dance floor, but Xavier holds back, shooting me a sly grin.

He waits for Neo to walk off then elbows me in the ribs. “Something about the little sisters, right?”

Huffing, I shove his ass back into the crowd. “Get your ass out there before I tell Neo you fucked her.”

“Yo!” he hisses, his head jerking in the direction Neo disappears. “Watch it!”

“Watch her.” I grin.

“I am, fuckface, but keep it up, and I might just kiss her.”

I fly forward, but he’s already out of arm’s reach, cracking himself up as he weaves through the crowd.

The dick is only messing with me, but I still want to punch him for playing.

The thought of someone’s lips on hers brings my blood to a boil, always has.

That reminds me, she said she’s kissed two people in her life.

Who the fuck was the second?

Why do I have the sudden need to know?

And why the fuck is the bass player pointing at her?

Davis smiles, lifting her glass, full of nothing but soda and ice, and fuck this.

“Watch the bar.”

“Uh-huh.” My brother’s chuckle is the last thing I hear before I’m weaving through the crowd, and I don’t stop until I’m right behind her.

“Stop making the asshole think he’s got a chance in hell.”

She whips around with a smile and leans in. “Maybe he does.”

“Real fucking funny, Sweets.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said I should let it happen naturally. I feel like a hot night with a musician is a full-fledged fantasy.”

I haul her to me, and she grins wider. “It ain’t yours.”

“Want to know my deepest fantasy?” she teases.

“Sweets.” I shake my head, lowering my lips to her ear. “What makes you think I don’t already know?”

“What kind of man knows a woman wants to be laid across the bar top and doesn’t take pleasure in doing so?”

My eyes snap shut, images of Davis naked and sprawled across the wooden slab, not forty feet from us, her feet planted firmly against it, her pussy bare and at perfect height for me to bend and dive right in… with my tongue.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

My head snaps up, and I glare. “Stop.”

She bites into her lip to keep from smiling. “Hey, you came over here. I was minding my own business.”

“What business do you have with a shaggy-haired guitar player named Bones?”

Davis laughs, shaking her head. “Got it, Dad. No flirting with the band members.”

My eyes narrow, and she crosses her heart like a brat. She knows what I mean.

No flirting with anyone.

“Behave. I mean it.”

The little girl salutes me, then spins back to the others. Her new friends.

My friends.

A sense of comfort washes over me, but I push it away.

Comfort does me no good, not when the princess has her own plans, ones I’ve still got to find a way to fight for a spot in.

The plan was to get my shit straight, and then drag her ass to me, but she came barreling back before that could happen.

Nothing I can do now but keep myself in check. Semi-check, anyway, if at all fucking possible.

I’m thinking it’s not.

I’ve already crossed the line, there’s no denying that, but for my own fucking sanity, I’ve got to remember where we stand, that this is a deal we made. Guiding her in these lessons she wants to learn, that I stupidly agreed to teach, was a fucked-up idea if I’ve ever heard one.

I wasn’t ready for her, yet here she fucking came, killing me when she asked for nothing more than the physical I can give.

She’s got a sweet tooth she’s looking to satisfy, and in her eyes, I’m candy to be consumed.

Nothing more.

That’s all a washed-out punk who mops puke for pennies is good for, right? As Memphis would laugh and joke about if he were here, as if that shit were funny.

It’s not, but I can’t say it isn’t true.

It makes no sense for a girl like her to want more from an asshole like me. I know that.

In the end, Jess is the type of dude she’ll choose.

Someone good-looking and going somewhere, successful and set for the future. A model man, the kind that goes to work and comes home in time for dinner, plays catch with his kid.

I eat beer nuts most nights, and some of those same nights, I never make it to bed.

Shit, I didn’t even have one of those until a few weeks ago, when she gave me one.

I’m just a fucking squatter under her roof, and eventually, she’ll ask me to leave, likely the second I sign off on the stupid fucking deal we made.

But until then, I’m the guy in control of who she gets close to, and right now, the only man I want her near is me.

I’ll worry about the problems I’m creating for myself later. For now, I just have to stop touching her.

Stop thinking about her naked and under me.

I need to take us back to before—me ignoring and denying, her playful but poised.

Not telling me she’s wet for me or sharing her fucking fantasies.

My chest rumbles, but I swallow past the budding desire.

This girl, swear to God, she’s going to kill me.

Or make me kill someone…

My eyes snap to the long-haired asshole who hopped off the stage, the band done for the night and the crowd thinning. Thinning and thinning, until I have a straight fucking line of sight to the beauty in the middle.

My beauty, who smiles at the grease ball stepping up to her, growing more comfortable around men by the day, thanks to my dumb ass.

His hand finds her lower back, his lips on her ear, and she squints, listening.

And then she laughs, the length of her neck staring back at me. Mocking me.

The neck I sucked and licked on just last night.

My marks are there, I saw them, searched for them this morning, when she thought I was asleep.

They’re faint, hidden by the tips of her hair and a little farther back, so not as easily spotted by the naked eye.

Next time, they’ll be square in the center, big and fucking bold.

Wait, no. No next time.

Grease Head’s hand lowers, sliding down the back of her dress, and she pulls her head back, meeting his eyes.

He smiles, touches her fucking hair, and Davis…

Davis looks to me.

My pulse pounds angrily, eagerly, my gaze locking on her lips, reading her words, but they’re not meant for me.

Sorry, she tells him. She’s here with someone.

Me. She’s here with me, the motherfucker who’s signing your paycheck tonight.

Davis steps back, and then she’s headed this way, closer and closer, until she’s smiling from the seat right across the bar.

She sets her glass down, so I take it, pour it out and serve her a fresh one, not once looking away.

She grins around her straw, and a second later, the girls are joining her.

For the first time all fucking night, we guys can breathe easy.

I might even have a drink.

Maybe if I do, I won’t be so tightly wound when I get home, and it’s just me and the girl my dick dreams about.

Maybe.