Page 55 of The Boys Next Door
“Ian—“ she gasped.
But at the same time, she was waking up to his rhythm, without even thinking about it. Moving with him. Responding to the music. Pulling him closer, exploring his broad back through that black shirt, digging her fingers into solid muscle when a slap on her ass made her jump. And his hands all over her back, fondling and pinching everywhere they went, were tame compared to some of the grinding couples and groups on the dance floor. Heat spread through her body.
Over his shoulder, she saw a shape that looked like Brendan up at the bar, chatting with all the bartenders.Then he was back, three drinks in hand and his dimples showing. Diana tried to point to the black X on her hand — there was no point in talking over the music — but he just grinned and offered her the biggest glass.
It had to be the sweetest, fruitiest drink imaginable. Orange slices, maraschino cherries, bubbles — you almost couldn’t tell it had alcohol, but she guessed it had plenty. Hard to believe that Brendan had convinced the bartenders it was for him, but she had a feeling Brendan could convince anyone of anything.
She gulped the cold liquid, ice meeting her lips and carbonation stinging her tongue. Out of the corner of her eye, each twin knocked back a shot, their heads tipping back with identical movements.
“Slow down, Di.” Brendan rubbed her arm as she swallowed another mouthful. “Just take your time. We’ve got all night.”
But she didn’t want to take her time. She drained the glass, pulled the cherry off its stem with her teeth, and let the sweet burn flood her mouth. Then she reached out both hands to the twins.
The floor was sticky with cheap beer, the air smelled like pot, the room was a primal swamp of heat and people. Her hips were actually swiveling to the beat of the music. The fat horns, dirty guitars and thunking drums sent waves of urgency through her body.
And right out in the open, without knowing when it happened, she was sandwiched between muscled males. Brendan must have taken the three glasses away, but she hadn’t even noticed. The twins were dancing — no,grindingon her. Jesus, they were so close to her, both of them, and they weren’t making any secret about it.
A solid chest anchored her back. Warm hands closed over her waist. Brendan said something in her ear from behind, or maybe he was singing along with the music — she really couldn’t tell, because her full breasts kept nuzzling Ian’s chest, her nipples rubbing inescapably against his firm pecs through that black muscle tee. More hands squeezed the flare of her hips, pinching her flesh possessively.
And oh God, both of them were rubbing their crotches on her soft curves, the obvious bulges arousing her so she could hardly breathe.
“You guys—“ she panted. “We’re in public.”
“You agreed, baby.” Ian bit her earlobe, and she jerked with excitement against the hard bodies closing her in. “Ten minutes to do things our way.”
Her face was flaming, her whole body was on fire, and the twins — no, the three of them were putting on a total show, and now she was getting as into it as they were. No one noticed anyway, right? No one else cared. The room was dark, the air was thick with sweat and perfume and body odor, and everyone was in motion.
“You’ve worked so hard, haven’t you, Di?” Brendan’s voice caressed her ear. Her neck was damp with sweat. When she wriggled against him, excitement sparking her skin, he pulled her even closer, his thick erection pressing firmly above the curve of her ass. She moaned softly. “Just have fun tonight. We’re right here. It’s your time to blow off some steam.”
Steam was right. The room already felt ten degrees hotter than when she’d walked in with the twins. Swampy beats pulsed through the floor. The dance floor crackled with the energy of a hundred bodies.
She was aware of sudden emptiness behind her, saw Brendan up at the bar again, felt Ian pull her tightly against him. God, it was so hot to rub up against him like this in the middle of a jumping room, feel the masses of people jostling them, breathe with him. But she could barely move, and now she wanted to move.
“I need some space,” she shouted in Ian’s ear.
He looked startled. “To do what?”
“To dance.”
She wasn’t worried now, she wasn’t scared, she didn’t give a shit what other people thought. She’d left her box. She didn’t have to be Diana Cooper, her face buried in a book, valedictorian of her senior class. That wasn’t bad, she was damn proud of her hard work, but her gyrating hips, her bouncing breasts, her thrusting pelvis — yes, she was thrusting against Ian’s groin, hard, her whole body aware of the firm bulge in his jeans, and he was grunting in pleased surprise and thrusting right back —those belonged to the girl who starred in her fantasies: hot, confident, strutting, all about pleasure.
“Look at you, baby.” As overheated as she was, Ian’s little smile sent a shiver through her body. “I knew you could do this.”
Her hand closed around another glass, dripping with condensation. Brendan was back, brushing her damp hair off her neck, saying something above her head to Ian that she couldn’t make out as she sucked down the cold drink in her hand. The twins were on their second round too — no. Their third. Those were two shots they’d each knocked back just now.
No way should she try to keep up with them. Either one could drink her under the table in three seconds. But she’d always wanted to keep up with the twins, hadn’t she? Ten minutes were definitely up, but she had no intention of leaving now.
The room spun around her and stopped on Ian’s crooked grin. He cupped her head and pulled her close.
“Want to have even more fun?”
“Is that possible?” she shouted.
Ian’s hand disappeared into his pocket, then reappeared. Two neat halves of a red circle sat in his palm.
“What is that?” Diana’s heart thumped in her chest. This wasn’t ice cream, or anything close. It wasn’t spiders in the bed. It wasn’t even pot in Marissa’s backyard. Her whole body vibrated, the bass shaking her bones.
“Find out with me.” Ian tossed one half into his mouth.