Page 26 of Ball Buster

“Maybe later.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Yup.” I tug Vada toward the bar in the back by the dance floor hoping we can avoid the mouthy cunt.

“We don’t have to stay. I mean I won’t complain if you just want to take me for another ride on your Harley.”

“This goes good, I’ll take you anytime you want.”

She smiles and I cage my arms in around her at the bar while she orders us both a beer. Her head tips back and she stares up at me cheesing like a goof. Looks like the real Vada is out tonight. Her guard is down. I like it a fuckuva’ lot. I yank on one of her braids then I kiss her.

She moves her lips against mine, parting them to welcome me inside. I delve my tongue between that sweet part tasting the mint of her toothpaste.

“Five even.” The bartender slides our bottles across the bar.

I dig some bills out of my wallet and pay the man.

A new song starts, and I take up a stool. Vada settles in, standing between my legs. Her back to my front as I hook an arm around her waist. I could get used to this. She isn’t nagging me to dance or going off and strutting her ass around the place trying to make me jealous. Stunts Angel likes to pull when I’d take her out. No, this girl is chill to simply be in my arms and drink her beer while observing the bar.

“Whatcha think?” my lips work against the shell of her ear and a shiver moves over her. I smile at the effect I seem to have on her. Now that I know that before she was keeping a wall up because she had the wrong idea it makes her fuckin’ cuter. All that shit was because she felt guilty for being attracted to me.

“It’s cool here. I like it but we can do better.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got some ideas.”

“Cool. You can tell me about them later.” I grab her beer and sit it on the bar with my empty. “C’mon.” I take her out on the dance floor as a slow song starts up.

“I didn’t take you as the dancing type.”

“A man will be any type for the right woman.”

“That a fact?”

“Can’t help yourself, can you?” I ask as her arms go around my neck.

“What?”

“Love to spar with me.”

“What can I say? You make for a fun opponent.”

“You going to be this argumentative in the bedroom?”

“Guess you’ll find out if you manage to get me in one.”

“You’ll be in my bed.”

“Want to bet?”

“Don’t need to.”

“Cocky,” she mutters, but doesn’t deny that she knows I’m going to have her in my bed by the end of the night.

Once the song ends, I park her ass on a stool. “I gotta hit the head. Think you can behave while I’m gone?”

“I make no promises. There’s a cute cowboy over there with a nice ass.”

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