Page 23 of Kneeling to Candy

I usually limit my alcohol intake when I’m away from headquarters, back in Fort Collins, Colorado—I prefer a clear head. However, our intel team was celebrating Chase and Simone’s impromptu wedding, as well as finishing a major pilfering case out in Sacramento. We threw caution to the wind, enjoying our well-earned vacation.

The past few days have been one party after another, with lots of booze and little sleep. My mind is shit for recalling the previous night’s events.

My SEAL training kicks into high gear, scanning the room for clues. Anything could trigger my memories to come back. The bed is rumpled from where Candy and I crashed hard after thoroughly fucking each other’s brains out last night. I want to get lost in the one memory I can recall, but now is not the time. I have a goddess waiting for me to join her in the shower, meaning I need to find my answers—stat.

The floor is littered with our discarded clothes, shucked after we closed the hotel room door. A lamp is overturned on Candy’s side of the bed, along with a whiskey glass with the remnants of liquor. My leather cut is draped over the chair, and my wallet is on the desk. I flip through my wallet, finding it all intact, but no other hints from the night before.

I round the bed to the other nightstand, hoping to find any clues, and that’s when I see it. A shiny pink Ring Pop.

Every moment of the night slams into me like I’m living it all over again…

“Take me dancing, Butch,” Candy purrs into my ear at the casino’s bar. Her arm is slung around my neck, her body pressed tight to my side. I can smell the Cosmopolitan on her breath—sweet and citrusy. Her warm exhale tickles my neck, making my dick jump at attention.

We’re separated from our group, hanging out alone—something I’m taking advantage of. I love the brotherhood, but alone time with Candy is rare.

At any minute, Punk and Ziggy could come back from their poker game on the other end of the casino, or Chase and Simone could emerge from their honeymoon suite to catch up with the rest of the crew. This is valuable time I’m sharing with Candy, and I’m relishing the attention she’s showering on me.

I have my arm wrapped around Candy’s tapered waist, squeezing her side gently. She’s wearing one of her many mini dresses, black and snug to the swell of her breasts. Some women would be self-conscious, wearing tight and revealing clothing. Not Candy. She radiates a confidence most women envy. It’s alluring.

Every man who passes us can’t help taking Candy in, some ogling her longer than I prefer. It doesn’t bother me that they look. She’s a beauty who deserves to be admired. But I draw the line at touching. I’ll break a fucker’s face if he touches her.

All is fine though. I must be giving off “I’ll end you” vibes, since no one’s dared to try. My biker cut will deter many from trying. All the better.

The sweet bubble gum scent wafting off her skin tempts me to lean in and run my nose along the slender column of her neck. She’s too delicious not to indulge in, and I’m a starving man.

I tip back the rest of my whiskey, eager to fulfill her request. “You wanna dance with me, Goddess?”

Candy gives me a sultry smile, turning her body to face my front. Her manicured nails creep up my chest, over the scar on my neck. Her fingers linger over my old wound a moment before wrapping gently around my throat. She pulls me in close, her pink cupid lips nearly brushing against mine.

I almost moan aloud in my needy, drunken state.

“Do you see me asking anyone else?” Her tongue swipes out, clipping the tip of my nose.

My seductress’s teasing has my heart skipping. We’ve flirted over the course of the last year, growing from friends into something more. But this is above anything she’s initiated before. It’s blatant, bold, and so overdue. Something I plan to collect interest on, as long as she’s willing to let me in.

A part of me realizes it could be the alcohol affecting our actions. Yet the way she looks at me with her sultry stare has me denying it as anything other than us taking the next step.

Candy downs the rest of her cocktail, lining it up with the several others we finished in a short period. She pulls me from the bar, tugging me toward the dance club.

“Come on. I wanna rub up against you.”

I groan deep in my throat, adjusting myself through my jeans. “Don’t tease me, Candy. You know how much I want you,” I admit easily, my tongue loosening from the alcohol courage.

She responds with a wink, giggling. “Don’t tell me you don’t get off on the teasing?”

“Oh, I do. Prolonged gratification makes it so much better,” I nearly growl, not bothering to hide my desire. “I’d prefer it better behind closed doors, though. You can tease me as much as you want if we go back to our hotel room.”

“Mmm…kinky,” Candy muses aloud in appreciation. “I like the sound of that. But first, we dance.”

My pink haired beauty pulls me into the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by bodies swaying in time to the pulsing music and hypnotic strobe lights.

It’s definitely not my scene. Neither is it Candy’s. We prefer more rugged surroundings with folk tunes and Old Man Mickey bartending to this glitzy club with techno beats and mixologists. But when in Vegas…

She pushes her ass into my crotch, grinding against my hardening junk. I’m not much of a dancer, but for Candy, I’ll make a fool of myself.

I catch her hips and hold her to me, matching her motions. Her head drops back against my chest, pushing out her breasts. My hands itch to take them in my palms, squeeze her nipples into stiff peaks.

Our hips rock to the beat, the motions becoming more vulgar with each song. It’s almost too much to bear. If my dick gets any harder, it’ll rip through the zipper of my pants.

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