Layla shrugged. “What are you having?” she asked.
“Let’s do some shots. You cool with that?” She nodded her head in agreement. Luckily enough, two guys were just leaving their chairs at the bar when we approached, and I lifted Layla into one before waving at the bartender.
A skinny guy with a long goatee raised a brow at me when he stopped in front of us. “What do you want Layla? Jack Daniels or Patron?”
“Patron. Jack gives me a headache.” The guy sat two shot glasses in front of us and poured our shots then added a slice of lime to each and put a salt shaker beside of the glasses. I gave him a fifty and told him to keep the change.
Before I could reach for mine, Layla already swallowed her own. I watched in fascination as she swallowed without so much as flinching and bit into the lime without bothering with the salt. Fuck me! My dick, which had been on the verge of exploding all evening, twitched against the fly of my jeans. I quickly swallowed my shot before I did something stupid, like pull her into the bathroom in the back and screw her brains out.
But that wasn’t how it was going to be the first time we made love. It was going to be in a bed, and I was going to take my time with her. There was no use in rushing, not with Layla. She was different from any other woman that had warmed my bed. I felt it to my bones when I looked at her.
The heat of the tequila distracted me enough to get my cock under control for the moment, and I motioned to the bartender for two more. Layla gave me a sly grin as she downed the second shot without bothering with the lime this time. I placed a kiss on her lips just to get a taste of her and found that she was far more intoxicating than the liquor.
Big chocolate eyes blinked up at me as I drew back a little. “Not fair, rock star.”
I laughed, completely and utterly happy in that moment. “Nothing about the way you make me feel is fair, Layla,” I assured her.
“Evil man,” she grumbled with a grin.
The skinny guy stopped in front of us again. “Layla?” She shrugged and I switched us from shots of Patron to rum and coke. I didn’t want us completely wasted, just buzzed enough to enjoy ourselves for a few hours. When I left I wanted her sober and completely in control of herself so that she could say no to me if that was what she really wanted. I prayed to every god I knew of that she wouldn’t say no to me!
We sat there sipping our drinks for a long while. The bar was getting pretty crowded. All walks of life were in attendance: college kids, a few bikers, Goths, and Emos. I didn’t feel out of place like the preppies that were huddled in the back at a table. Everyone gave them a wide berth because they were loud and starting to get obnoxious.
When the band came out on stage, everyone moved closer. Nik had asked me to take a look at them because Rich had mentioned something about them to him. They had gotten popular over the summer because of something on YouTube, and Rich was thinking of signing them and putting them as our opening act when we eventually started touring again.
Layla, who was now sipping on a Vodka and Cranberry, stood in front of me. I kept an arm around her waist, needing to touch her at all times. It wasn’t because I felt like she wasn’t safe, I just needed the contact. When the band started their intro, she pressed her rear right into my crotch, and my mind went completely blank for a full minute.
Around us people were going crazy for the band, and I finally snapped out of my desire filled fog. I pressed a kiss just under Layla’s ear. “Careful, baby. Any more of that and I won’t be able to walk out of here.”
I couldn’t hear her laugh, but I felt it vibrating through her and into me.
When I was able to focus on the band on stage I found that they were mostly a cover band. They didn’t have anything original to offer, but they were pretty good at the rock songs that they covered. The guitarist could have kept up with Drake, and that was saying something because Drake was king when it came to playing with strings. The frontrunner had a kind of raspy voice that made people stop and take notice, but he lacked a certain personality that lead singers needed for a performance. I liked the drummer’s skills good enough, but the guy on bass was off by a cord or two from time to time.
All in all, it was a great band to see at a bar, but I wasn’t all that sure if they were what Rich was looking for. And I was in serious doubt of Nik agreeing to let them open for us if Rich really did sign them. If Rich brought them on board there would have to be some major changes within the band itself.
Still, they were cool to listen to tonight. And Layla seemed to be having a good time as they continued to play some really good rock songs. The liquor had loosened her up, and she was dancing in front of me now. With her hair whipping around as she moved that sexy little body so provocatively, I fought with myself not to haul her out of the bar right then and there.
But I wasn’t the only one enjoying the sight of Layla dancing. Several guys around us had turned their attentions from the band to her as she moved her ass to the beat. Even as my dick reacted to her, my rage boiled as a guy from the preppy table dared to approach her.
I had lost my hold on her waist a few songs ago to give her free reign to dance to her heart’s content. She had moved a few feet away from me, and I had been cool with that. But now Preppy with the light pink polo and gelled hair was taking advantage of the distance between us.
I watched it as if in slow motion as the guy pressed up against her side and she leaned into him for half a second before she realized that the man touching her was not me. She stepped back, glaring up at Preppy, but he pulled her back into his arms and started grinding his hips against her.
Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered me so much if she hadn’t been trying to get away from the douchebag, but she was pushing against his chest and he wouldn’t let her go. Okay, it wasn’t just because of that. Layla was mine. And no one, absolutely no one, touched what was mine!
Two steps forward and I was beside of Layla. She looked up at me in relief… Until she saw the fire in my eye. “Jesse…” she started, but I didn’t give her time to finish her sentence as I pushed between her and Preppy.
The guy was a tool—the kind that did nothing but worry about how good he looked. He probably spent hours at the gym to get his abs just right, had a hundred dollars’ worth of product in his slightly spiked hair. His clothes were from Hollister, and I was almost positive that he was the kind of guy that thought he could have anything and everything handed to him with just a snap of his fingers.