Breathless - Jesse Book 1 (5 page)

“Liar.”

I rolled my eyes up, like the cat that caught the mouse.

She got more vehement and slapped the bar top. “You shit head! You’re from New York, aren’t you?” She squealed. “You are devious.”

She came around to my side of the bar in a burst and stood next to me, leaning one elbow on the bar. She reached up, groping my head with her fingertips.

“Wait, I feel it.” She poked at my scalp again. “Yeah, that’s it, right there. I can feel the horns growing as we speak.”

I playfully slapped her hand away. As she reeled back, I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her into me. She smelled good. Sweet, and surprisingly fresh, for working in such a dive. Her long brown hair whipped around me as she teetered forward from the force of my grip. Hot silence stilled between us for a moment before she turned away from me to face the bar for her punishment drink. I ran my hand slowly up and down her back, feeling the curve of her body as it dipped in the small of her back, right above the rise of her rump. I wanted my hand to continue on down her backside, over those tight fitting jeans, over her ass. I fantasized for a brief moment of pushing her head down and bending her over the bar, her ass up in the air, and mounting her right in the bar. I shook my head.
Get a grip dude.
It’s too soon for that, but later, yeah. I’ll tap that ass and she’ll let me put my hands all over her. I watched her eye the last shot glass as hard core lust burned between us.

“New York, huh? How did you guess?”

“I’m psychic.”

I raised a brow.

“No, I saw your driver’s license when I checked your ID,
duh
.” She rolled her eyes like I was an idiot. Hell, I was, most of the time. I bit my lower lip, my eyes fixated on her ass. I wanted to slap a firm hand on it so bad. I moved my legs apart as I sat on the bar stool so she could stand between them. Damn, having her close to me felt good. I let my leg rub against her warm thighs. The sexual tension between us practically crackled like static electricity. I leaned into her bare arm and nuzzled my nose on the soft smooth skin of her shoulder. The full tactile contact made my fucking dick twitch and I pushed my thigh against the fullness of her body. I stalled there, eyes closed and drew in a breath with my lips against the coolness of her skin.

She broke my mood and distracted my focus, dragging me back to other more civil thoughts. “That last shot is looking pretty lonely there. I already guessed where you’re from, so I won. You have to take the shot.”

“Are you bustin’ my chops, lady?” I joked.

Still wedged between my legs, she twisted around to face me and slipped her arms loosely around my neck. She tilted her head back and I lunged at her neck, dragging my teeth gently across her skin, then sucking out a kiss.

“Keep doing that and you're gonna get us both in trouble.”

“I like trouble. Trouble is my middle name,” I mouthed against her neck as I kept my lips connected to her skin. She rolled her head to the side and dipped her head close to mine. I felt her hot breath in my ear.

She stole a glance around the half empty bar, and whispered in my ear, “You seem like the type of guy who likes danger.”

“Mmm, I am.” I continued exploring her long neck. “Racing motocross for a living is kind of dangerous.”

“Jesse, do you want a little adventure?” she asked in a low breathy whisper. Her teeth teased at my earlobe.

“Mmmm…yeah, but here? Don’t you think it’s a little risky?” I murmured, eyeing the bar owner almost falling asleep on the other end of the bar.

“That’s how you know it’s an adventure.”

She pulled back and slipped her hand into her front jean pocket, retrieving a little yellow pill with the imprint of a smiley face on it. She wiggled it between her thumb and forefinger, nervously glancing around the bar, then hid it in the palm of her hand.

“Do you like this kind of adventure?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m down.”

“Okay, you’ll need a tequila slammer to go with it.”

“What the fuck is a tequila slammer?” I was annoyed when she pulled away from me. She left me all raw and edgy feeling, like my shit was all hanging out. I wanted that feeling back.
Damn it
.

 
I swiveled around on my stool as she stepped down to the end of the bar.

“Motorcycle rider, right?”

 
“Yup.” I nodded. She grabbed a black motorcycle helmet that was sitting at the end of the bar. It was the half helmet type. No face mask.

“Here, put it on,” she directed as she disappeared around to the other side of the bar.

“What the hell is this shit?” I asked holding the helmet like, “I’m not putting this crap on my head.” She slammed a bottle of tequila and a shot glass on the bar. I stared blankly wondering if she was going to make me drink out of this nasty old helmet or something. She jumped up on the bar and spun around on her behind until her legs were dangling over the edge of the bar on my side. She spread her legs open and slid over so I was sitting right in front of her, her legs open in a wide v.

“Put it on,” she commanded.

I drew back with a crooked smile. “Say what?”

“Just put the helmet on and play along. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“Ok, but I warn you, I’m a virgin so be gentle,” I mocked.

She pushed on my shoulder and spun me on my stool so I had my back to her. I put on the helmet.

“Ok, now lean back so your head is resting on the bar right between my legs.”

I complied. She scooted back a little as I laid my head back between her wide open legs.

“Ok, sugar. Close your eyes and open your mouth,” she said holding the soda dispenser in one hand.

I could hear the clink of the tequila bottle and the next thing I felt was wetness in my mouth. My eyes popped open and I saw the tiny yellow pill drop into my mouth along with the tequila and some Sprite. She grabbed my head, helmet and all with both of her hands and slammed my head hard on the bar.

“That’s a tequila slammer,” she said, as the helmet made a loud bang.

I damn near choked as the Sprite and tequila, fizzed wildly inside my mouth. I swallowed in one huge gulp, gagging, gasping and laughing all at once. She leaned over my head and kissed me upside down, running her tongue around the edge of my lips.

She let loose of me and I sat up. I damn near fell off the stool but it was all in good fun. I stood up, and pushed the stool back. I took off the funky old helmet and shoved it down the surface of the bar, out of our way. She sat in front of me with her legs spread wide open. It wouldn’t take long for the XTC to kick in. My dick and I wanted this girl naked. Immediately.

“My turn,” she said.

She wet her lips, opened her clenched fist in front of me, revealing another little yellow pill for her in the palm of her hand. Before she could pop it in her mouth I grabbed her wrist and held her arm in place. She didn’t move. Without breaking our glance, I brought her open palm up to my face. I opened my mouth and touched the tip of my tongue to the pill. It adhered to the moisture on my tongue. With a jerk I pulled on her wrist, so she would fall forward into me. She moved in my direction, and I wrapped my arm around her waist. l held her wrist, pinning her arm behind her back. It forced her to arch up and her lips parted in a reflex action. A little gasp erupted from her throat and I shoved my tongue in her mouth, pushing the little pill off the tip for her. I paused for a second and she swallowed. My goddamn cock was getting thicker inside my jeans.
Damn, this girl was hot.
She came at me hard, shoving her tongue in my mouth, twisting into our kisses, pulling her fist into my hair. I could have taken her right there on the top of that dirty, sticky bar, but I figured we had better get out before being thrown out.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said breathless.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, and bolted off the bar to the back side where she snagged her purse out from under the bar. We split in a flash and headed for my motel room next door.

Niki

The sharp ripping sound from the oversized tape dispenser pierced the air in my bedroom. Packing boxes were stacked in the corners near the pale pink walls. Turquoise blue contrasted with black accents on the fabric of my bedspread and curtains to create a fresh modern design. Clothes from the closet with hangers still on them lay over the back of my study desk chair. Shampoos and other toiletries from my bathroom were piled on top of the dresser, waiting for Kat to put them in a box. I looked at the teetering pile of toiletries, looked over at Kat sitting on the bed, then looked back at the pile and exhaled, knowing the box wouldn’t get filled anytime soon. I walked over to a box I had begun to fill and bent over to pick up a soft plush item from the floor.

“Why are you taking that old thing?” Kat’s head popped up from her iPhone screen. She frowned and looked perturbed with me. I knelt down and placed a large white teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck, into the cardboard moving box on top of pairs of my endless collection of shoes. I closed the lid and sealed it with tape.

“It’s a keepsake and besides, I need him to cuddle with in bed at night when I can’t get a date.”

Kat looked up again, long enough to roll her eyes. “The shoes you need, because we wear the same size, but the bear is kid stuff. You’re going to be a lawyer for Christ’s sake. Lawyers don’t sleep with teddy bears. Just leave it.”

Kat sat with her back propped up against the headboard of my bed and her legs bent at the knees, barking out orders, while posting an status update on Facebook.

 
“Hey, did he ever call you?” Kat asked, as she finally looked up from her phone.

“Who?”

“Trevor. The hot guy from Vegas.”

“Oh…that guy. No, haven’t heard from him yet. He said he’d call when he is back in LA later this month.”

“Cool. I liked him.”

“Yeah, I guess he was kind of cute.”

“He was hot and ten times more fun than boring Jason. When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re breaking up with him, dummy. You’re still breaking up with him, right?”

“One thing at a time, hun. It was hard enough letting my dad know that I’m moving out of his royal empire.”

I had lived at home my entire college career, with my dad and his ridiculously much too young second wife. Her name was Cinnamon. Yeah, that’s right, she had a stripper name. Twenty years younger than my dad, with a rockin’ hot body and a stripper name.

When they married in Vegas six years ago, there was no way in hell I was going to call her mom. The name mom, deserved respect and I didn’t have any for...Cinnamon. I cringed at the thought of saying her name out loud in parental situations. Like when I had to introduce her to my high school teacher senior year, at Open House night. “Hello Mrs. Hubert, this is my...er step-mom, Cinnamon.” How humiliating.

I never blamed dad for wanting to remarry after mom’s death. He was still a young man and I wanted him to be happy. Do whatever it would take, follow your heart and be happy. That’s what mom would have wanted.

I thought it would be hard leaving the house where mom lived with us, but ever since Cinnamon arrived, her presence changed the soul of the house. It was like mom’s essence had been overshadowed by Cinnamon’s personality. At first, I was angry at Cinnamon for invading my mother’s house. Mom’s memories were ingrained in the rooms where we all lived and interacted with warmth and love for each other. I was angry at dad too, but I never dared showing him, so I took it out on Cinnamon. Blaming her was the easy way out.

It was my senior year in high school. I was younger, more impulsive and full of drama, but I’m older now and especially since graduating from college, I felt ready to let go of all the old anger. I was tired of carrying around the pain and the hurt. It was weighing me down and now I was ready for some changes in my life.

“Kat, you know…that plan about me being a lawyer…going to law school and all.” I grabbed another folded box and assembled it for more shoes. I sat down cross legged on the floor at the foot of the bed and wrote the word, “bedroom” neatly on the outside of the box with a large black Sharpie marker. Kat barely heard me, consumed with social networking on her phone.

“Hey, hey, check this out.” She jumped up to her knees and crawled to the foot of the bed, laying out flat on her stomach, dangling her phone screen over the edge of the bed to show me a post on Facebook. “Lisa just posted that her and Carly are going to a club on Saturday. We should go.”

“Kat, did you even hear what I just said?” I waved the pen in the air as I spoke.

“Oh what? Sorry, you were saying…” She pulled her phone back out of my face and sat up on the bed cross legged.

“Well, I have decided to take a year off before I apply to law school. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching this last year. Now that I’ve finished this milestone in my life, which I did for my dad, you know...” I wrung the black marker in my fidgety hands.

Kat cocked her head to the side, looking at me with the concern of a true friend. “What is it, Niki? You can tell me, girlfriend.”

“There is this one thing I always wanted to give a shot. I know it’s crazy but…I’ve been thinking about going to fashion school. You know, learn fashion design.”

“What? That’s fantastic. You should totally do that…but what does your dad say about this? I mean, you already have a four-year degree from a great college. Those fashion schools aren’t really an academic institution, they are...well, they are training schools. Your dad will kill you if you don’t go to law school.”

“I know, I know,” I cringed, and furrowed my brow. “But this is what I want to do. At least, I think it’s what I want. Anyway, I already told him that I needed a year off school which he seemed to be okay with. I can’t keep living my life for someone else.”

“Hey babe, I’m with you. I know where you're coming from. All I want to do is singing and performing. Talk about disappointed parents. You should have seen their reaction when I told them I wanted to be a singer. They would’ve been happier if I’d announced I was gay.” She sat back on her knees, waving her cell phone in the air as she spoke. “Well, they were bummed at first but they support me now. I
am
damn talented, you know. It won’t be long before I get discovered by some hot music producer.” She laughed and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, while swiping her finger to open a new app.

If anyone could understand my need for creativity, it was Kat. She had started college with me freshman year, but quit to pursue a career as a makeup artist. After about a year of working in the MAC cosmetics store, giving makeovers, she’d enough of uptight customers and decided to focus on her true passion, music. Kat was a singer-songwriter by heart, continuously writing new sultry songs and playing her guitar. Thanks to her fabulous networking skills, she managed to secure gigs around town in small venues, performing her original songs.

“I wish I had your parents. They’re so cool with their ‘old hippies’ style. I’m tired of fulfilling someone else's dreams.” I picked at a loose thread on the carpet where I sat on the floor. “I have to explore this part of my personality...no, my
being
. It’s time for me.” I stood up and grabbed another roll of clear packing tape from the desk. “So I was thinking, I could take classes at the Fashion Institute in L.A.”

“You mean FIDM. That would be awesome and it's not that far from our new place.”

“Exactly. What’s to lose? And if it doesn’t work out, no problem. I’ll apply to law school, satisfied that I gave it a shot and everybody is happy.”

“Hell yeah. That sounds like a good plan.”

“God, I hope so. Thanks for the support, hun.” I leaned over the bed and gave Kat a big hug.

I was shocked that dad was okay with me taking a year off before law school. He said he had done the same thing at my age and it was the best thing he had ever done. It gave him the energy he needed to later finish top of his class and become the ‘go to’ lawyer for actors, singers and song writers in Hollywood. He always said I should follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer, even offered for me to work in his firm once I had my law degree. But this was his dream. Not mine. Unfortunately, my dad was not a person you said ‘no’ to very often. He was of Italian descent, a very passionate, powerful and stubborn man. Growing up I never dared confront him, or go against his wishes. He was all the family I had left so I hit the books and studied hard.

As the years ticked by in college, I matured, and realized I had been suppressing an artist’s soul. I had a passion for color, form and fashion design. Living with dad and his rigid, sequential, logical thinking had squelched the creative spirit in me. He couldn’t help it, he had to be that way, he was a lawyer, but I had inherited opposite attributes from mom. She was beautiful, graceful and had been a talented interior designer. I thought if I were half as beautiful and half as talented as she, I would be happy.

Kat was back to messaging on Facebook. “Come on Miss Social Networking butterfly. Put that damn phone away and help me carry these boxes down to my car.” I plopped a medium sized box on the bed in front of her. She shoved her phone in the back pocket of her white shorts.

“Let's do this.”