A Match Made in Vegas Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement1

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Daphne undoes the last button of my shirt.

For a moment, her hand lingers on my chest. She looks down at the tattoo I got with Cassie and smiles. "I forgot about this." She traces the line without thinking. "It suits you."

All at once, both things overwhelm me. My desire to protect my sister.

My desire to pin her best friend to the wall.

Thankfully, the bartender interrupts. "You forgot your boyfriend's tattoo?" the bartender asks. "Hon, you gotta watch your drinking." She giggles and shifts back into the ritual.

I channel my martial arts practice. I try to let go of the thoughts in my mind. I try to stay here in the moment, ready, still, not reacting until I absolutely must.

The bartender notes my posture, writes it off as nerves, shoots me a you've got this smile. "Now, usually, I get on a gentleman's legs, but I'll spare you that jealousy." She winks at Daphne as she places a shot glass in my belly button.

The cool glass presses against my skin.

Not a sensation I expect or appreciate, but it still sends my blood south.

The bartender pours equal parts well vodka and peach liqueur into the shot glass.

A truly horrifying combination.

She's right. I'm a cocktail snob. I haven't drunk well vodka since college.

But that's a good thing. The memory will put me right back to parties that didn't suit me.

This doesn't suit me either.

She and I—

We don't make sense together.

Only we do. We make too much sense.

Again, the bartender interrupts my racing mind. She stays calm and easy. "Now, put your hands behind your back," she instructs Daphne. When Daphne follows, she continues, "And take it with your mouth." She winks at us. "Probably heard that before."

Daphne laughs. "A lot of variations. Jackson can be very bossy. He's a lawyer, you know. Used to getting his way. It can be annoying sometimes, but in the bedroom…" She shrugs as if to say I just can't help but fall under the spell.

She's enjoying the role-play.

And I'm five seconds from alerting the bar to how much I enjoy that.

I close my eyes. Think of cold showers. Boring ball games. Movies about people dying horribly.

Then Daphne giggles and my eyes are drawn to hers.

I watch as she bends, wraps her lips around the shot glass, sucks just enough to hold it in her mouth.

She rises and sucks the liquid into her mouth.

Daphne laughs as she releases the glass into her hands. "How was that?"

"Something tells me you have practice." The bartender winks. "Now, hon. Hop up here. It's your turn."

Which means it's my turn to take a shot from her stomach.

Fuck me.

Chapter Ten

Jackson

Daphne slips onto the bar with ease. She stretches her arms and legs, taking up as much space as possible.

Something about it feels different.

Personal.

At least, now, the angle is in my favor. The bar comes to my mid-stomach. Which means no one can see my slacks struggling to contain the situation.

I stop fighting my attraction.

I let go.

Yes, I want her. I don't have to deny that.

I just have to refrain from acting on it.

The acceptance eases the tension in my shoulders. Which makes it easier to do this right.

As her friend and wingman.

The bartender gets closer this time. She straddles Daphne's thighs as she rolls Daphne's shorts low enough to reveal her belly button.

She places the glass in her belly button.

Daphne looks to me as if to say this is more fun than you expected, huh?

I think. I'm not exactly at peak observational skill at this point. There's not enough blood in my brain.

"Men usually like to watch this." She picks up a bottle and pours liquid into the shot glass. "And I like the angle too. A little ménage à trois without all the complications."

"We would never want complications," Daphne says. There's something off about her voice. Nerves. Or flirting. I can't tell anymore.

"Or maybe you two are into that kinda thing." The bartender winks.

Daphne tries to shrug, but from her position, she can't quite do it. So she just laughs. "Whenever you're ready, baby." She shifts into her role. Still nervous but excited.

That must be what she's like when she fucks.

Eager to learn, grow, explore.

People are who they are. In the bedroom too. It's not always one-to-one. Sometimes, the shy girl isn't shy when she takes off her clothes. Sometimes, the shy girl is an attention-seeking freak.

But there's always a relationship between those things.

The shy girl who fears attention everywhere or the shy girl who finally gives into her desire for eyeballs on her skin.

And Daphne, with all that enthusiasm in her eyes—

She's the same here. I can tell.

I let the thought dissolve as the bartender slides off Daphne's legs.

She motions all you. "Hands behind you."

I'm not used to taking orders. Not in this context anyway. Still, I place my hands behind my back.


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