10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
T humping bass resonates in my chest, a slick of sweat coating my skin as I move to the beat, my hands in the air. Bodies writhe around me, many of them people I recognize from the Streets of Long Beach competition. A few promo models, like me, are wearing our respective colors or logos. I have my S&M tank tied under my boobs, my midriff bare and a black miniskirt riding up my thighs. I have worked my ass off to get my body in this shape, I might as well flaunt it while I can. I’ve had three shots of Patron and lost count of the vodka-Mas Boost cocktails I’ve been downing, so I’m feeling warm and floaty and perfectly at ease here in the throng. I lost track of the team, but I’ve seen Cole and Ezra at the bar the few times I went for a drink, which they happily supplied for me.
Hands touch and grope, and crotches grind as people come and go around me. I don’t care about anyone else, I just want to dance and move to the rhythm of music and the sponsor successes that flutters my heart. Every few minutes, a new set of hands will take my hips and dance with me until I move away from the offending boner or wandering fingers. I’m not afraid of strangers touching me, but I draw a line when it gets too sexy.
Hands once again grip my hips, pulling me back against a solid chest and immediately we are rocking perfectly in time with the beat. I’ll let Mr. Grabby have a go bumping and grinding against my ass for a minute before I push away the inevitable erection that starts to dig into my ass. I look down at the hands and notice colorful tattoos decorating the skin of the toned forearm that peeks out of the rolled sleeve. My heart hammers faster than the pulsing beat and I worry I’m about to face a familiar wrath. I straighten up and make to move away, but Wyatt steps in front of me.
“Relax, it’s just me and Griff,” he says, coming in close to shout in my ear. His breath smells like booze, but I’m sure mine does, too. He places my hands on his shoulders, his fingers tracing a delicate path down the length of my arms.
I blow out a breath and do as he says, leaning back hesitantly against what I now know is Griffin’s solid mass. I don’t want to think too much about this delightfully strange change in Griffin. I never would have imagined we would be dancing together a few days after we were verbally sparring. I let them sandwich me as we move to the beat of whatever electronica the DJ is spinning. Even in my floaty drunk state, I know how good I have it right now. I have two of the hottest guys in the club making me the cream of this drift racer Oreo. The thought alone puts me at ease enough to let Griffin fully move me the way he wants.
Wyatt’s hands come to rest above Griffin’s, sliding along the bare skin of my waist, making me shiver. His thigh splits my legs, making my skirt ride higher as I grind on him, while Griffin keeps my ass pressed firmly against his crotch. Six legs manage to entwine and still we move together in the most erotic dance I’ve ever been a part of. I hold on to Wyatt’s shoulders for dear life. I’m not sure if this is real life, or some kind of sexy wet dream that will wake me, panting and throbbing as the echo of an orgasm mists away into consciousness.
Four big, strong hands touch my skin, sending jet trails of hunger and longing through me. I am on fire. Griffin’s fingers span the length of my skirt, which barely covers my goodies now. His thumbs hook into the stretchy waistband and the tips of his fingers trace along the skin of my thighs. Wyatt’s fingers span my ribs, his thumbs sliding under the material at the edge of my tank top.
It feels so fucking good to be at their mercy, to finally get a chance to touch and be touched by the object of my desire.
I tip my head back, resting against Griffin’s shoulder as my eyes close and my mouth opens in a silent moan. Wyatt pulls me forward a bit, his face inching toward mine when I open my eyes. One of Griffin’s hands leaves my hip to skate up my back and tangle in my hair.
I close my eyes and wait for the kiss I know is coming from Wyatt, but suddenly, Griffin grips my hair and pulls my head away from Wyatt. I open my eyes and Wyatt is smiling, but the look he sends over my shoulder at Griffin is just short of friendly. Griffin’s grip in my hair eases, but he leaves his hand on the back of my neck, his thumb tracing a path through the sweaty curls that reside at my nape.
The song changes and so does the rhythm, slowing down enough to disrupt our movements. Griffin uses his hold on my hip to redirect us. Instead of a sideways swing, his hips now roll mine up and forward. Wyatt catches on, his hips pushing me back along his thigh into Griffin. The new friction, coupled with the amazing feeling of these two men playing their hands over my skin, is sending me higher. I let go of one of Wyatt’s shoulders, my arm snaking behind Griffin’s neck, pulling him closer. His face nuzzles into my neck, his breath puffing hotly against my scorching skin.
I have no clue if my skirt is covering my ass anymore or if I’m flashing my barely there thong. I guess it doesn’t really matter since I have the guys doing a nice job of covering me completely. I bare down on Wyatt’s thigh just a tiny bit harder as Griffin angles my hips, and my hood piercing finished the job these guys started, sending me into an orgasm that I do my best to hide. I breathe quietly through my open mouth, my eyes rolling back and tremors shaking my legs. If they weren’t holding me up, I don’t think I would still be standing.
Griffin groans into my hair and Wyatt is staring at me with rapt attention when I finally manage to open my eyes. My face is so hot it burns, but they feel so good I can’t even find it in me to be embarrassed. Much. Maybe they didn’t notice I just came on them.
“Are you pierced?” Wyatt asks loud enough to be heard over the sultry club beats. I close my eyes tightly and nod my head. “That was so fucking sexy. I might nut my pants if you do it again. Think we can make her come one more time?” he asks over my shoulder. Griffin stills, stopping our momentum and pulls me off of Wyatt’s thigh.
“That’s enough. She’s drunk, and so are you.”
He keeps an arm around my waist and tugs me over to a booth where Cole and Ezra are entertaining a few girls of their own. He pushes me into the booth and stalks away, leaving me disoriented. Ezra looks over and passes me a drink. I take it without knowing what it is, the burn of whiskey making me cough when I swallow a sip.
“Looks like you finally made friends with Griff,” he says over the loud music, his eyes laughing but kind.
“I’m not sure he wants to be my friend. He’s probably thinking of derogatory things to call me now. He hates me,” I manage, my throat burning from the alcohol.
Maybe we’re not friends, but he was definitely into me. I felt the hard bulge of his interest pressed into my ass the entire time we were dancing, but he did just dump me here and leave after they got me off. Hah. I just got off, sandwiched between two guys on a crowded dance floor. I guess that piercing really does work. I got it on a whim about six months ago and haven’t had the pleasure of trying it out until now. I’ll say the return on investment is a good one.
“Nah, you’ve just seen the bad side of him,” Ezra says, taking the nearly-full glass back and taking a swallow. Aww, he’s sharing his booze with me. He wipes his mouth on his hand and sets the glass down. “He likes you, but he has no idea how to handle you. You’re not just dumb eye candy, and you are too pretty for him to see as an equal on the team. You confuse him.”
“Well, he confuses me,” I admit, taking a swig of the whiskey. “Why do I have to fit into a single box? Why can’t I be pretty and car smart? That’s so dumb and closed-minded.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t be both. Hell, we know you are.” He indicates himself and Cole, who now has the attention of both the girls that are in the booth, since Ezra is talking to me. “I think Griff had you pegged in the dumb and pretty box, but you have revealed there’s more to you, which is throwing him off. And you’re really good at doing your job, every aspect of it. Maybe losing some of that attention to you made him a little weary at first, but seeing you bring in parts and sponsors when we desperately need it is wearing him down.”
I shrug my shoulders and sip more whiskey, excusing Ezra back to whatever it was he was doing before Griffin plopped me in this booth. The whiskey doesn’t burn nearly as much now. I scan the crowded club, but can’t find Griffin or Wyatt, so I trace circles in the condensation on the glass. I can understand Griffin not wanting to hang out, but Wyatt actually likes me. Why he would stay away is a mystery.
Maybe because you shouldn’t get involved with teammates.
I sneer at the unwelcome, but true, thought. It’s for the best that they stay away. I totally would have let Wyatt kiss me if Griffin hadn’t stopped it, and where would that have gotten me? Probably into his bed and regretting my drunken decision in the morning.
“Slide over.”
I close my eyes and let the deep rumble of the command wash over me. I hate that Griffin’s voice sends shivers of pleasure through me. I stall, sipping from my nearly empty glass of whiskey to make him squirm. I run my tongue over my lips to catch a drop as I finally look at him.
His black Henley hugs his chest and arms, his jeans fitted and hanging perfectly off his hips. He stands with a loose ease that wars with the tightly coiled energy I feel from him. He allows my stalling tactics, unfazed by me checking him out. He sits next to me once I’ve finally moved further into the booth.
I look around him to see if he’s alone. “Where’s Wyatt?”
Griffin narrows his eyes, shrugging. “Up to no good.”
“And you’re all about making good choices?” I run my finger under the bra strap on my shoulder, adjusting the padded monstrosity that makes my C cups sit up and get noticed. I catch Griffin’s eyes dip to my cleavage and stay there a moment before he looks away.
“Better than him. Here, drink this.” He hands me a tall glass of clear liquid. I sip it tentatively. It’s just ice water. I eye him and wonder why he wants to sober me up. I was just getting the hang of drinking whiskey straight up.
“You’re a good dancer.” I lamely attempt to continue our conversation, because for once he’s not insulting me, and I like it.
“You let me take control. It’s always better that way.”
Well, then. Thoughts of how he could control my body and make me feel even better than I had on the dance floor have me clenching my thighs together.
“What happens when someone challenges you, or doesn’t want to give you complete control?” I ask for the sake of conversation. Totally. I don’t want to see how he would handle me unable to completely submit to him should we ever get to try out the luscious thoughts that are dampening my barely there panties.
Griffin holds my gaze, his eyes smoldering and electric blue in the neon haze of the club. Time seems to slow down as he reaches toward me, his hand curling into the hair at the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking the hollow of my throat. I all but stop breathing, intent to not ruin this moment of unguarded softness. His fingers tighten in my hair, tipping my head back and forcing my mouth open in a soft pant as I eagerly watch his face. He moves toward me slowly and my eyes close when I feel his breath on my lips. My heart races as chill bumps line my skin. Is he going to kiss me? Oh my God.
“This is what happens when you give me control. It’s fun. It’s thrilling. It’s good.” I suck in a gasp as I feel his wet, warm tongue slide along my neck. His lips are at my ear, his breath so warm and my body so needy. “It’s what you want, too.”
He releases my hair and moves away, leaving my body trembling with desire. I blink my eyes open, focusing on his impassive face and the way he takes a drink from my water. What in the fucking hell is going on? Have I entered a parallel universe where Griffin flirts and dances and licks my neck while making me want him like nothing before? Where is the asshole caveman who has nothing nice to say? How dare he even pretend to know what I want, or to tease me mercilessly for his own pleasure? No. I’m not down with this.
I scoot closer to him, feeling the energy change as he grows still in anticipation. “How do you know what I want, Griffin?” I purr, tracing my finger along his full bottom lip. “You haven’t even asked.” With that, I slide onto his lap, causing his eyes to pop wide, until I slide off on the other side. I pull my skirt down and without a backward look walk out the door to catch a cab back to the hotel.