disrobing Grace.
A screeching of guitars and a smattering of mismatched drums woke me out of my reverie. The band was getting ready to play.
“Why are we here again?” I asked Adam.
“The lead singer used to be in my band, and I want to make sure he didn’t steal any of my music,” Adam replied. I nodded to indicate I heard him and sat back. I placed my hand on Grace’s back, and felt the silky fabric beneath my palm. I rubbed my hand up and down, idly wondering if the delicate shirt would catch on the calluses of my hand. I wanted to reach under the shirt and smooth my hand over Grace’s skin. The tank she had on was riding up a little, and I could see the top of the waistband of her shorts. The tank needed just a slight nudge upward, and I’d be treated to a sliver of golden skin.
I wondered if I could get Grace to go the bathroom with me. No, too public. Maybe the truck. My backseat was a bench and I could—I shifted again. Pulling my hand off Grace’s back, I took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. Remove the magazine. Empty the chamber. Place rifle on table. Pull the hand guard. Breathe.
She turned to me with a questioning look. “Anything wrong?” she mouthed.
I’d like to lay you across the table and eat you out, and I don’t care if the entire bar watches. I shook my head no, but she slid back in her chair and nestled up next to me. My arm closed around her, almost involuntarily. Her nose brushed my neck as she leaned in and I had to suppress a shiver.
“Is it okay that we are here? Seems like we have interrupted a manly convention of drinking.”
“Just before you came, the entire table was bemoaning the low chick to dick ratio.”
She released another little snort and said, “Nice.”
She said something else, but I couldn’t hear her because the band had started their first song. It was a lot of screaming, jumping around and really poor guitar playing. I winced at a particularly bad note and nudged Adam again. “These guys are really bad.”
He yelled back, “I said that they were like Slipknot, not that they were Slipknot.”
There was only one acceptable act after fighting and that was fucking. If I didn’t get Grace alone for a minute, I was going to explode. Standing up, I pulled Grace up from her chair and led her toward the only semi private spot in the joint.
The hallway to the bathrooms was dimly lit and there was a small space at the end illuminated only by a faint EXIT sign. The walls provided a barrier against the awful sound emanating from the stage.
I leaned her against the wall and put an outstretched arm by her head.
I rubbed a strand of her dark brown hair between my fingers and then leaned close. “I’m going to kiss you here, okay?” I felt I should ask because it was public, but Grace didn’t protest. She only pressed her body closer to mine.
“Because it’s the only way to endure the music?” she teased.
As if I needed an excuse. I didn’t respond with words, but instead closed the distance between us. Her lips were soft and a little sticky, remnants of some lip gloss perhaps. I swept my tongue across the bottom of her lip and then pushed inside to taste her.
The cool of a mint still lingered and I could feel a faint tingling sensation. Dimly, I thought that she must have just eaten a breath mint. She offered no resistance to my touch and instead curled her little tongue around mine, stroking it, welcoming me inside.
My hand tightened in her hair. I clenched my other hand in a fist against the wall even though I wanted to touch her all over. Cup her breasts. Unbutton her pants, stroke her from throat to pussy. But this was a semi-public place, and I didn’t want Grace to feel embarrassed by anything she did with me, ever. Public making out seemed to be a good limit. For now, at least.
But that didn’t stop me from imagining what it would feel like to have her hot mouth all over my cock, having her suck me like she was sucking my tongue. Then I couldn’t resist. My body blocked the view from anyone else. I let go of her hair, pressed my palm just below her breast, and