Page 6 of Gorgeous

“I’m sorry,” I start, eyeing the jam, considering splurging on one jar when I see a handwritten sign propped against the table of jams.

Help Wanted.

One year later

“Fifty bucks says I can get that chick’s number.” Drew’s eyes dare me to take the bet.

I’ve never been a man to turn down easy money, or girls for that matter, so instead of agreeing, I up the ante, countering Drew’s bet with one of my own. “A hundred says I get her number and her friend’s.” I tip the neck of the beer in the direction of the two girls at the high-top table we’ve been eyeing all night.

The cute blonde is my type. Long ringlets of soft hair spiral down her back, ending at the edge of a tiny white crop top that showcases her flat, tanned stomach. Her friend, although not what I typically go for, is just as appetizing with her chestnut hair pulled tight into a sleek ponytail.

Someone is getting laid tonight.

And that someone is me.

Drew’s hazel eyes narrow, silently weighing his odds. “You’re drunk. No way are you getting both their numbers.”

Oh ye of little faith.

The dinky wooden chair slides across the tile from the force of my weight as I stand, situating my already thickening length. Just the thought of this challenge is getting my dick hard. Throwing back the last of my beer, I flash Drew a cocksure smile that clearly reflects my confidence in this matter. “You in, or are you out, bitch?”

He drags in an exaggerated breath and frowns. “I’m in.”

I’m feeling all kinds of cocky, and I square my shoulders, slamming down my empty bottle of Corona before engaging my swagger toward the poor, lonely girls. My approach seems almost expected when I stop at the empty chair at their table. Both girls smile, bat their eyes seductively, and track over the muscles flexing under my shirt. All that mascara will look phenomenal when it’s streaked down their faces in two hours.

Oh yes, these girls are going to be a lot of fun.

Eighteen months, stuck in the asshole of the world, I’m ready to indulge. And these pretty ladies look exactly like my flavor.

“Ladies.” The Georgia accent is thick when I drawl out the word. Women love the twang. I can’t remember the last time it’s failed me.

The dark-haired girl giggles, whispering into her friend’s ear. I can’t hear what she’s saying but the blonde one licks her lip before biting down. I’m certain I’m about to be a hundred bucks richer. The brunette invites me to sit with a wave of her hand. “I’m Laura, and this is Candece.” I flash them the “Jameson smile,” and they giggle.

“I’m Cade.” I hold out my hand and Candece, the blonde one, wastes notime grabbing it. I kiss the top of her hand, dragging my lips across the smooth skin as slowly as I possibly can, making sure my eyes remain on her baby blue ones. She giggles.

Not surprising at all.

I reach forward, extending both hands to catch Laura’s, and repeat the same greeting. They look at one another, then at me.

Moment of truth. Let’s see those lady-balls, girls.

“How ‘bout we get out of here?” I suggest, making sure my lips mouth the words against their hands.

Eager eyes stare back at me and … blink. And blink again.

Come on, ladies.

Okay. Obviously, they need more incentive. My tongue—always my ace in the hole—snakes out, licking Laura’s finger, inching down until the tip of her manicured nail is at my lips. I slip their hands together, and their eyes grow wide. Since I’m a betting man, I wager they’re not even breathing.

It’s go time.

With what I hope to be a sexy smile, I lean down and suck their fingers into my awaiting mouth.

Together.

Hard. Soft. Swirling of the tongue… I’m sucking on their middle fingers like I can already taste the sweet flavor of their clits. Back and forth, I switch speeds until Candece moans.

Bingo.

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