18. Jax #2
After handing Gus and Shane their shots, I take a seat, placing the tray with the lemon and salt in the centre of the table. Candice is the first to reach for it.
“What is that for?” Carter asks.
“Lick, sip, suck,” Candice replies.
“Sounds like fun,” Carter chuckles. I see a smirk cross his face and it pisses me off.
“Let me show you.”
I’m relieved when Candice places the salt on the inside of her wrist. I would’ve lost my shit if I had to watch her lick it off him. I feel my dick twitch and I have to fight back a growl when she slowly runs her tongue over the salt.
“That was fucking hot, Pinkie,” Gus says.
I’d have to agree. I still remember exactly what her mouth felt like wrapped around my cock. Her oral skills are exceptional. Just thinking about it is making me hard. Christ, why did I let my mind go there?
She downs the shot before picking up a wedge of lemon and placing it between her lips. What I wouldn’t give to be that piece of lemon right now. She has the whole table captivated. I don’t think she realises how sexy she is.
For the next few hours, we drink and laugh. It’s turning out to be a great night and we’re all a little drunk.
As soon as ‘Low’ by Flo Rida starts playing, Candice throws her hands in the air and yells, “Oh, I love this song, come dance with me, birthday boy.”
“Fuck that,” Carter grumbles. “I don’t dance.”
“Come on, don’t be a pussy. Live a little.”
I have to agree with Carter, I don’t dance either. I save all my moves for the bedroom—that’s where I perform best.
Candice stands, reaching for Carter’s hand. “I won’t take no for an answer. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t want to,” he gripes. I feel bad for him when she tries to pull him off the chair.
I know how stubborn Candice is, she won’t give up until she has him on the dance floor.
“Fuck,” I hear him mumble a few minutes later as he stands.
Gus lets out a boisterous laugh as she manages to drag him away. I don’t envy him.
“He’s just standing there,” Gus roars, slapping his hand down on his leg with amusement. I don’t notice. I can’t seem to take my eyes off Candice as she shakes her sweet arse. “Pinkies got all the moves.”
She does. I remember years ago, sitting in a dark corner at one of our school dances watching her all night. It sounds a little stalkerish, but I’ve always got a kick out of seeing Candice carefree and happy. She was dancing like nobody was watching … she was like a breath of fresh air.
The moment the song is over, Carter turns and hightails it back to the table.
We all laugh. Candice stands there dumbfounded for a few seconds before some cocksucker comes out of nowhere and pulls her into his arms. A smug smile appears on my face as I await her attack, but disappointment floods me when she smiles up at him instead.
He draws her closer and she slides her arms around his neck.
What the hell? The old Candice would’ve gone all ninja on him and busted his balls by now.
I swear I see fucking red when his hands move down to her arse, squeezing it. My head snaps to Carter. “You gonna let that fucker manhandle your girl like that?”
“What? She ain’t my girl.”
Really? That’s news to me. “Since when?”
“Since always. Do you think Candice and I are getting it on? We’re friends, that’s all.”
I shrug because right now I don’t know what to think. I know she went to his house, and I saw them in the garage, out the back of the shop. I’m not blind. Are they friends with benefits? The thought of Carter using Candice as a casual lay angers me further. She deserves better than that.
She deserves better than what I gave her too.
My gaze moves back to the dance floor. I shouldn’t watch her dancing with that guy, but I can’t seem to look away. He keeps whispering shit in her ear, and every time she laughs, my blood pressure rises. Why do I torture myself like this?
A few minutes later, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when the inevitable happens.
He slides his hands into her soft, apple-scented pink hair as his mouth bears down on hers.
The grip on my beer tightens to the point my knuckles turn white.
I’m surprised the glass doesn’t shatter in my hands.
“Fuck this,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing. I’ve seen enough.
“Calm down, boss,” Gus says. “She’s just dancing.”
Ignoring him, I make a beeline straight for the bar. When I pass Candice on the dance floor, I have to control the urge I have to punch that dick right in his pretty-boy face. How dare he put his grubby hands—and mouth—on my girl.
As I’m standing in the line waiting to be served, the brunette from earlier slides up beside me.
“Are you having a good night, handsome?”
I almost say, “Does it fucking look like it?” but I manage to bite my tongue.
It wouldn’t be fair to take my foul mood out on her, she’s done nothing wrong.
Instead, I revert to my old coping mechanism, the only way I’ve been able to survive up until now.
It’s a pretty shitty move on my part, but if I stay here, I’m going to end up in a fight.
“Wanna get out of here?”
“Definitely,” she answers without hesitation.
I reach for her hand. Glancing at the dance floor on my way to the door, I catch a glimpse of Candice.
Her eyes follow me across the club. When her gaze moves down to my hand firmly holding the brunette’s, her face drops.
Really? She was just sucking face with some guy right in front of me. She has no right to be upset.
“Where to?” the taxi driver asks when we’re seated in the back of the cab.
I wait for her to answer. There’s no way I’m taking her back to my place.
I’ve never taken anyone back there—I don’t need them knowing where I live.
Even though I always make it clear that I’m not interested in anything more than one night, I still get the occasional one who expects more, like they have some kind of magical pussy that’s going to convert me. Not happening .
While she rattles off her address, I have a sudden attack of conscience. This tit-for-tat crap needs to stop. We’re adults, for Christ’s sake.
“Look,” I say, turning to her. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m doing this for all the wrong reasons.” Pulling a fifty out of my wallet, I pass it to the driver. “Take her wherever she needs to go.”
“What? No.” She reaches for my elbow as I open the door of the cab. “Don’t go.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as I get out of the taxi.
“Arsehole,” she snaps.
I deserve that. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I head down the street towards the train station. I need a fucking cigarette. I’m an arsehole for what I just did. I should never have left with her. I only did it to hurt Candice and that was wrong. I can’t keep using other women to get over her.