Chapter 11 #2
By the time we swing by Sommer’s place to pick up her and Charli, they’re laughing and carrying on as if they’ve already been drinking.
“Oh! I love this song,” Charli declares, diving over the console to turn the radio up.
When she does, since she’s sitting behind me, she practically falls against my seat and lays on top of my arm.
Her tits press firmly against my forearm, and I hold completely still.
If she realizes what she did, she doesn’t draw attention to it.
She sits back in her seat and starts belting out the lyrics to the classic Faith Hill song.
Charli loves to sing, and she’s pretty good too.
I’ve heard her sing karaoke or with her brothers around a campfire several times, and it’s always one of my favorite sounds.
Sommer joins in and I can tell it’s going to be one of those nights. Both ladies seem to be cutting loose already, singing loudly and carrying on, and neither have had a lick of alcohol yet.
Camden glances over, catching my attention. “Gonna be one of those nights,” he whispers just loud enough I can hear over the music.
“Yep,” I confirm, shaking my head and returning my attention to what’s in front of us.
A few minutes later, we pull into one of the small parking lots near the bar. The street is already lined with vehicles, an indication it’s going to be busy tonight. After Camden parks, we all climb out and make our way to the front entrance.
Cade and Oaklee are there, waiting, and step inside when we approach. Classic Toby Keith plays on the jukebox, and Lizzie’s already behind the bar with Jani, while Collin is stocking the cooler.
“What are we having tonight?” Camden asks Charli and Sommer.
“Something sweet and fruity. Have Lizzie make it,” Charli demands, turning to her friend who nods in agreement.
He glances at me before asking, “All American?”
“Yep,” I confirm as we make our way to the bar.
“The pool table’s open! Let’s go grab it,” Charli says to Sommer before grabbing her arm and practically dragging her toward the opposite side of the large room.
“Gonna be one of those nights,” Camden says again, keeping a close eye on his sister as she walks away.
“Sure is.”
“Hey, Camden!”
We both turn to see Laura make her way to where we’re standing. “Laura,” he replies with a charming grin. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’d love one,” she replies, adding her selection to the list.
When Lizzie heads our way, Camden places the order, telling her to make something fruity and sweet for the girls. Laura practically attaches herself to Camden’s side, and even though I already feel like a third wheel, I hang with them so I can help carry drinks.
“I’ll start a tab,” Lizzie says after placing the last of the drinks on the bar in front of us.
“Thanks, Lizzie,” Camden replies, handing me one of the mixed drinks and my own beer.
I head for the pool table, the sound of Charli’s laughter floating above everyone else and drawing me in. It’s like a siren song, it leads me toward the unknown and I go willingly. And if I know Charli at all, I’m certain her song will lead me to my death.
Probably a painful one at that.
I hold out the drink to the birthday girl, who is standing off to the side and watching Sommer rack. “Thank you,” she replies, her words a little breathy.
Or did I just imagine that?
She takes a hearty drink from the straw. “Oh my God, that’s good. I can’t even taste the alcohol.”
“What is it?” I ask, noting the hints of coconut in the air and the cherry and pineapple skewered garnish on top.
“Blue Hawaiian, if I had to guess. Sooo fucking good,” she says, taking another drink before grabbing the little sword of fruit. “Want my cherry?”
My eyebrow shoots up, and my dick starts to grow hard. I don’t even have to reply. She realizes what she said and blushes. “I didn’t know that was on the menu tonight.”
“It’s not,” she replies, chugging the contents of her drink.
“Too bad,” I reply, taking my own drink of beer.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not on the menu because it was taken when I was seventeen.”
My jaw ticks with irritation. I’ve been dealing with Charli dating over the years, and even though I felt jealous, I could never show it.
But that was before I was inside her pussy.
Now, the thought of anyone else feeling how amazing her tight, wet pussy is makes me want to throat punch the first asshole I see.
Leaning in closer so no one else can hear me, I mutter, “Let’s not talk about those assholes who came before me.”
“Jealous?” she asks, nothing but humor mixed with desire reflecting in those sapphire pools.
“Fuck yes, Charli. I want my cock to be the only one you’re thinking about pounding inside your pussy.” I watch as she swallows hard. “I might not be the first guy to make you come on his dick, but by God, I’ll be the one who made you cry out the hardest and loudest while you milked my cock dry.”
A gasp falls from her lips, and I swear she leans in even closer. I can smell her perfume and want nothing more than to taste the coconut and rum on her lips.
“Charli! It’s your break,” Sommer hollers, heading over to retrieve a cue from the holder on the wall.
As if a glass were breaking, Sommer’s words crash through the sexually-laced fog in Charli’s brain. “Yep!”
“Here, Quinn. Watch and learn,” she says, handing me her drink and sauntering over to where Sommer is waiting by the cues. I swear she adds a little extra swing in her hips, knowing my eyes are glued to her ass as she walks away.
I raise my gaze and find Sommer staring at me, a big grin on her lips. She lifts her eyebrow, and I’m not sure if she’s confirming the fact she busted me ogling Charli’s ass or if she’s throwing down the gauntlet and not-so-subtly asking me if I’m going to do anything about it.
She whispers something to Charli, who glances over her shoulder and looks my way.
I don’t shy away, don’t look in another direction.
I hold her gaze as she turns and makes her way to the table.
Charli places the cue ball on the table and lines up her shot.
She faintly swings her hips, and I know it’s for my benefit.
I’ve been watching this woman shoot pool for years, and I’ve never seen her add a little shimmy to her stance.
Then, she pulls back and fires.
The balls clash together, scattering around the table.
A few drop in the pockets too. When I return my gaze to her, I find her heading my way.
She doesn’t reach for her drink. Oh no, this little vixen bends down to the drink in my hand, swirls the tip of her tongue around the straw, and finally draws it into her mouth.
She looks up in a battle of wills and foreplay.
She sucks.
Hard.
All while her eyes are locked on mine.
Game on, Charli.
Game on.