Chapter 3

chapter three

Davis

"Ain't No Rest For The Wicked"— Cage The Elephant

Z ara asked for spontaneous, and I'm pretty fucking sure there's nothing more spontaneous than a night of karaoke at a biker bar after buying me in an auction at a frat house.

But, then again, the night is still young and the possibilities endless.

Her pretty, bright red lips are parted in surprise, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and dragging my thumb along that plump bottom lip.

We've been dancing around each other since I first laid eyes on her in the Kappa house, and there's nothing more that I want right now than to taste to see if she's as delicious as she looks.

"It's karaoke night. Seemed like something wild and fun ," I say, repeating her earlier words back to her. "Unless… you'd rather do something a little less… crazy ?"

Her piercing green eyes narrow as her brow arches, and she shakes her head. "Nope. Obviously, you had no way of knowing this, but I actually karaoke at the Outlaw Oasis all the time. I'm a regular."

"Oh? That so?"

She nods. "Yeah. Is this your first time? So cute."

A laugh rumbles from my chest.

This fucking girl.

She's a breath of fresh air, and I'm desperate for another inhale, like an addict ready for their next hit.

When I saw her standing there across the room in that tiny black dress with those combat boots and bright red lips, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

I watched as she tossed her head back, her dark, midnight-black hair falling near her waist as she laughed at something her friend said, and fuck, I was enthralled.

It took me by surprise because it was the first time I'd ever felt such a… pull to a girl before. As sappy as it sounds, I was drawn to her, like a fucking magnet or something.

And I had to have more than just a glimpse in a crowded room.

I probably would've got down on my knees for her in front of everyone if she asked and not thought twice about it.

"C'mon, I'll show you around," she says with a smirk as she laces her fingers in mine and pulls me toward the entrance. "You know, since I've been here so often."

Something tells me this girl would match me toe to toe no matter what I threw at her, and that's so goddamn hot.

I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm being dragged through the front door by a girl that's half my size or the fact that we clearly are not regular patrons of this establishment, but it has everyone's attention on us.

Probably a mixture of both.

The inside of the crowded bar is dark, with the same concrete-colored as the exterior, lit mostly by neon signs along the walls and dim fixtures hanging above the well-used pool tables. There's a small dance floor that faces the stage, where someone's belting out a fucking horrible rendition of "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked."

Zara whips to face me, her emerald eyes bright with excitement. "Yesss. I fucking love this song! Let's dance." She lifts her hands above her head while her gaze stays locked on mine, pulling her plump bottom lip between her teeth, her hips beginning to sway to the beat. My mouth goes fucking dry.

She curls her finger in a come-hither motion, then slides her palms down the front of her body, rolling her hips with each pulse of the beat. The tight dress hugging her curves inches higher on her creamy thighs, and I bite back a groan.

I'm most definitely fucked.

"C'mon. Dance with me, Loverboy ," she whispers as she steps closer and wraps her fingers around the loose tie on my neck, slowly tugging me toward her.

Yep.

Fucked.

"You're trouble, you know that?" I murmur. My hand splays along the curve of her hip, the smooth satin of her dress gliding beneath my palm as I move it to her lower back and yank her forward until she's flush against my front. My gaze drops to the hint of dark ink that peeks out from between her tits, trailing down her chest. Her nipples are taut and pebbled against the satin. " So much fucking trouble."

"Yeah, well, what's life without a little trouble? Makes things so much more fun."

In a beat, she turns, my arm still hooked around her waist as she rocks her ass against my dick, which is hardening by the second. My palm splays along her lower stomach, fisting in the material of her dress when her body rolls against mine, pulling a choked groan from me.

Her head drops back against my chest, and her eyes fall shut as we move together, in sync with the beat pulsing around us.

I feel her hand slide over the top of mine on her stomach, intertwining our fingers, and then she slowly drags it up her body over the flat expanse of her stomach to her rib cage until my hand rests along the curve of her tit. An inch higher and I could cup it in my hand, feeling the weight, rolling her taut nipple between my fingers until she cries out.

I dip my head to her ear. "You're playing with fire. I'm two seconds from bringing you into the bathroom and seeing if you taste as good as you look, Trouble. I've been dying to since the moment I saw you in that crowd. " I sweep my thumb along the sensitive underside of her breast, causing her breath to hitch and my dick to twitch in my slacks.

Zara turns, her eyes shining with heat, a smirk toying with her pretty red lips as she trails a finger down the exposed part of my chest. "I came here for karaoke and drinks, Loverboy. Sorry."

My lips curve as I sweep a hand toward the stage. "Then, by all means, Trouble , lead the way."

I watch as she tosses me a smile and then turns and walks toward the bar, her curvy hips swaying with each step. She's all of five foot two, but those legs go on for fucking days, and I want to put them over my shoulders while I fuck the shit out of her until she screams.

When I make it over to the long reclaimed wood bar, she's laughing with the bartender, who looks to be in his sixties with a haggard, white beard that reaches the middle of his chest. He's wearing a leather cut on top of a faded black T-shirt with a bandana covered in flames around his head.

"What's your poison?" Zara asks.

I shrug. "What's yours?"

Raking her teeth over her bottom lip, she turns back toward the bartender. "Two shots of Fireball, please, Ernie."

The bartender, apparently Ernie , nods with a wink that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "You got it, gorgeous."

Once he walks down to the opposite side of the bar, I lean forward, dipping my lips to her ear. "How'd you pull that off?"

She's a freshman, so obviously not old enough to buy a shot at the bar, yet the bartender didn't bat an eye when she ordered.

She stares up at me through thick, dark lashes and lifts her hand, flashing an ID between her fingers. "Graduation gift from my cousin Jeremiah."

"Ah. I knew you weren't a rule follower."

"Rules are boring, Loverboy." She laughs as she slides onto the barstool in front of her, then tucks her ID back in her purse. "And boring is not fun."

I slide onto the stool beside her just as Ernie returns, sliding two shot glasses full of amber-colored alcohol across the bar to us.

"Thanks, Ernie."

"Anytime, doll. Holler if you need me."

Zara nods, then reaches for the shot and lifts it in the air, offering me a playful smirk. "To spontaneous dates with strangers."

"And… to girls called Trouble," I add, clinking the glass against hers.

Together, we toss back the alcohol. It sears its way down my throat like it's forging actual fucking fire, and I slam the glass back onto the bar with a shake of my head.

"Fuck, that burns," I sputter. "You like that shit? I think I'd rather have a lobotomy."

She nods, and her tongue darts out, dragging along her lower lip, capturing the leftover liquid. "Don't be a baby. It's not that bad."

My gaze narrows. "Yeah? Let's do another, then."

I'm calling her bluff and wondering if she'll bite.

"Let's," she smarts back.

And that is exactly how, twenty minutes later, we're four shots and two drinks deep, well past tipsy and on our way to drunk. Two shots ago, we decided that we'd play a game… trying to guess each other's favorite things, and the loser has to drink.

Needless to say, I think she's cheating, and I just can't figure out how.

"Okay, okay," she breathes, leaning closer and placing her palms along my knees. "What's my favorite animal?"

"Fuuuuuck. Let me think. I feel like this should be easy, but fuck. The possibilities." I drag my hand through my hair, pushing it off my face as I start reciting a list of animals in my head. I'm absofuckinglutely losing this shit, but I'm getting to know her, so I'll take it. "Fuck it. Panda?"

A giggle bubbles out of her as she shakes her head, rolling her lips together. "Nope. Drink up."

I lift my half-empty glass of beer to my lips and take a gulp.

"It's a naked mole rat."

My eyes widen, and I groan. "What the fuck, Zara? I would have never gotten that shit! A mole rat? Jesus Christ."

"I know." She laughs. "But it's true. They're so cute and hairless! I want one. I swear, it's true."

I reach for the seat of her barstool and haul her toward me until she's nestled between my spread legs. "I think you're just trying to get me drunk, Trouble. You wouldn't do that, would you?"

Her lip slides between her teeth, and she shakes her head, leaning forward and sliding her hands up my thighs, dangerously close to my cock. "Of course not. You're just actually terrible at this game."

"Or… maybe you're just cheating."

"I would never. Scout's honor." She smirks while reaching for my tie, fingering the fabric and holding my gaze as she leans closer. But when the song suddenly changes and they do an open call for karaoke, she halts, her eyes going wide as she leans back. "Oh, hell yesssss, finally. Let's go."

In a second, she's sliding off the barstool, a laugh rumbling from me as she drags me to the stage, then pushes me down into a rickety chair right in the front row.

Front and fucking center.

I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch her walk onto the stage and whisper something in the MC's ear, who nods and smiles at her before passing her the microphone. The music cuts as she takes her spot, and while the crowd that's gathering is less than enthusiastic about the music stopping, they perk up when they see Zara in the center of the stage with a sexy grin playing on her pretty red lips.

Lips that I'm desperate to taste. To feel wrapped around my cock.

I've spent the entire night staring at those lips and imagining what they'll feel like when I can finally kiss her.

Which I plan on doing the second she gets off that stage.

"This song is for the guys who love a little bit of trouble . Specifically, the one sitting right there." She points directly at me, and I laugh, shaking my head as the people around me cheer. Someone claps me on the shoulder, and her grin only widens as the music begins to play again.

"Trouble" by Camyilo plays through the speakers, and Zara starts singing, shaking her hips to the beat as she belts out the raspy, low notes.

I cover my mouth, laughing as she spins around the stage singing, but if anything, it just makes me find her that much more attractive.

The fact that she truly doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks. She's not trying to impress me, or anyone, for that matter.

She's fucking wild. She's fun. She's confident and sexy and fuck. I like it.

I'm completely under her spell, and honestly, I can't remember a time I had so much fun.

She flips her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she saunters off the stage with the microphone toward me, stopping between my spread legs. I reach for her, unable to stop myself, sliding my hands along the soft, exposed skin along the back of her thighs, gently pulling her toward me. She doesn't miss a beat as her fingers slide into my hair, and she tugs roughly at the long strands.

Her head dips, and suddenly, she's a breath away from my lips, a single fucking breath, singing a song that I'm no longer even listening to because I can't focus on anything other than her blown pupils and the fact that I'm about to have a hard-on in front of an entire bar full of bikers.

The tips of my fingers tighten around the back of her thighs, digging into her creamy skin.

The song ends, and the entire room erupts in a cheer for a show that I don't think any of us anticipated happening before it started.

Zara's chest heaves as she sucks in a breath, her eyes dropping to my lips and lingering before she stands and offers the crowd a small wave, then hands the microphone back to the person in charge of karaoke.

This was a fucking religious experience.

One I'm going to fuck my hand to more times than I care to admit.

I don't know what it is about this girl, but I'm in so fucking deep.