Accent Hussy (It Had 2 B U) (13 page)

My hand is still on his pants; it’s like I’m connected by an invisible pull latching me to his crotch. I cup him and he groans.

“Fine, I won’t wear this dress. Now please, make the elevator go up again.” He leans in and forces my back against the wall. His breath caresses the pout of my lips and he gently drags his own pout against mine. The hotness of our mouth’s collide, and my tongue darts out tasting him. His hand crawls up my arms and caresses the back of my neck.

“Why do you drive me so crazy?” he breathes.

“Because we’re like oil and water—we just don’t mix,” I retort. Our tongues touch. The electricity ignites within the confined space. It’s enough to power the entire elevator all on its own, and like magic, the elevator miraculously starts moving. He pulls away. When the doors open, I push past him, taking refuge on the twelfth floor.

Caleb takes a step towards me and is met with a sea of muumuus and large straw hats. Four ginormous, giggling women crowd into the elevator, pushing Caleb to the back wall. I wave at him as the door closes. Once the elevator numbers start moving, I finally take a breath.

Caleb is definitely going to be the death of me if I’m not careful.

At seven P.M., I’m downstairs. I’m certain that I won’t be seeing Caleb again. His fight started at seven, and there are over five-hundred clubs in Las Vegas. I have a better chance at catching a unicorn and making it my pet than I do of bumping into Caleb tonight. Of course, I wore the fuchsia dress. Caleb isn’t my boss. Despite him not wanting me to wear this delicious dress of sin, I did it anyway.

I wonder where everyone is.

I’m the first one in the lobby, so to distract myself. I watch the TV monitor near the elevators that just so happens to be showing Caleb’s fight. Watching him from a distance should be safe. He can’t mess with my head from here. The entire arena is crowded with people. Caleb’s introduced and he comes strutting onto the screen in glistening purple trunks and matching hooded jacket. Every single muscle on his body glistens with sweat. Internally I sigh, remembering what it was like to pet those muscles and rake my nails into his skin—skin that was as smooth like butter. I quickly lick away the drop of drool that forms on the side of my mouth. Even with cyberspace separating us, I can still feel the hold he has on my vagina. She’s skipping around like some god damn Lollipop Kid, begging to be played with. I swear if my vagina had a mouth, she’d be screaming Caleb’s name even louder than the fans that surround the boxing ring. She’s his biggest fan. Stupid whore. I gotta find someone to keep my mind off him.

Finally, after twenty minutes of waiting, everyone, including my parents, file downstairs.

“You guys aren’t coming, are you?” I yell at them.

Breezy and Max giggle.

“Of course not. We’re going to see a show. Besides, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you and your brother with my impressive dance skills.” My mom busts out with what can only be described as a raunchy cabbage patch-running man combo. People are looking at her like she’s mentally insane, and she probably is.

“Hey, isn’t that Caleb fighting?” Dashawn asks, looking at the screen behind me.

Everyone turns around to watch Caleb and his opponent dance on the screen. The fight and Caleb’s impressive boxing skills mesmerize me. Caleb’s fist connects with the other guy’s chin. His opponent retaliates with a few blows to Caleb’s side. The guy in red trunks is countering and blocking all of Caleb’s punches. My heart stops when his opponent deals a powerful uppercut directly to Caleb’s chin, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Oh shit, that was a pretty good hit,” Max exclaims.

Blood drips from Caleb’s lip as he struggles to get back up. “Get up, you idiot,” I say a little too loudly.

Max swivels and glares at me. “Do you two have something going on? Dashawn said you ended up going home with someone that night at the karaoke bar. Was it Caleb?”

I shrug my shoulders. “We fucked, big deal. You know he’s not my type.” I hate that I can’t lie to him.

“If that boy isn’t your type, then I suggest we get you to an eye doctor. I swear if I was twenty years younger and fifty pounds lighter, I’d be riding that boy like a goddamn pony.” My father’s eyes widen at my mother’s sudden outburst. “No offense dear.” She tells him patting him on the shoulder.

“That’s okay, I saw a couple show girls I wouldn’t mind giving a whirl. What do you kids call them nowadays . . . spinners?”

“DAAAAAD, MOOOOOM!” Both Max and I cry in unison.

Everyone laughs. It’s utterly mortifying when your parents are hell bent on pretending they’re younger than what they are. My dad is not hip. My mom is definitely not worthy to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars, so why do they torture us like this?

Max eyes me.

“What?” I ask him.

“I don’t like this situation.”

“What situation?”

“The you and him situation. He’s not a bad guy. I just don’t like the idea of my little sister banging guys who will be attending our gym. That will be against the rules by the way. No sleeping with the customers.”

“Do you think I’m a hoe or something, Max?”

“I wouldn’t call you a hoe, per say, but your clam’s a little loose if you know what I mean.”

“My what?”

“Clam . . . oyster . . . pearl . . .” Breezy covers Max’s mouth, but he continues to mumble through her hand.

“Don’t get him started, Everly. Trust me,” Breezy exclaims, hitting Max on the shoulder. “Leave your sister alone. You have no room to judge how many guys she sleeps with.”

“I do if they’re going to be working out in my business establishment. Hello, conflict of interest. You of all people should know that, Breezy.”

“Hey, Caleb’s back up,” Dashawn exclaims.

In what can only be described as the comeback of the century, Caleb is back on his feet, jabbing at his opponent: A left hook to the eye, right hooks into his abdomen, and a flurry of fast punches right to his nose. Caleb is a boxing god right now, and I can’t tear my eyes away.

Caleb swings hard, connecting with the dude’s face. He flies into the air and lands with a thud on the ground. Even the television cameras picked up the sound of his skull hitting the mat. Within ten seconds, Caleb is the winner by knockout. It surprises me how much I really do know about this sport.

“That was a good fight. Now, can we go dancing?” Maggie whines.

“Yes, Sweetness, we can,” Dashawn answers her.

Everyone abandons my parents, and we make our way onto the strip. Guys whistle as I walk by; it takes everything Max has not to pound them.

“Thanks, Maggie, why did you have to tell her to wear that dress?” Tony exclaims.

“Why, are you jealous?” She remarks.

He’s caught a little off guard but bounces back perfectly. “Not at all. I just don’t want her dress to bring any attention to my blonde bombshell. She’s mine.” He kisses Emma’s neck and she giggles. I roll my eyes and Tony smirks at me over her head.

Both of us know that if she wasn’t in the picture, we’d probably end up in bed again. It’s a shame that he isn’t single. I’m sure his fiery goodness could keep my mind of Caleb.

We end up at a nightclub in the middle of New York New York casino. Breezy immediately has her husband on the dance floor. She’s wearing a cute pink dress that stops just above her knees. Max is wearing black slacks and a long sleeve black and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. They look so cute together. Maggie is wearing a pretty, red dress that perfectly matches the red and black plaid shirt Dashawn has on. Her curly hair is pulled up into a claw clip, and she has some crazy, cute tendrils hanging down around her head. She looks really adorable. With the way some of the guys are looking at her, I can see why Dashawn is holding her closer and tighter.

I follow Tony and Emma over to the bar. Maggie and Dashawn join Breezy and Max on the dance floor. Once at the bar, a guy in a tight black shirt and blue jeans takes notice of me. When I bend in to tell the bartender my drink order, the guy slaps down a ten-dollar bill and grins at me.

“Let me buy your drink, Darlin’.” He has a thick southern accent. So what if it’s not foreign? At least, it’s an accent. I straighten from the bar and push my chest out, allowing the girls to solidify this free drink I’m getting.

“Why thank you,” I say, matching his accent.

“Are you from the South?” he asks in surprise.

I open my mouth to speak when Tony throws me a disapproving eyebrow from behind the guy’s head. I shake my head. “No, I’m just really good at picking up accents,” I answer truthfully and still in a southern accent
. Damn it, Tony, why do you have to ruin my game?

The guy smiles and pushes past Emma, weeding his way in front of me.

“Excuse you,” she grumbles. I’m not sure why Tony likes her. She’s kinda bitchy.

“I’m Ben,” he drawls, sticking out his hand. I limply shake it. He smells like Stenson cologne. I hate that smell. I guess he’s not bad looking. He towers over me, my eyes barely coming up to his nose. A slight twinkle shimmers his gorgeous brown eyes, and a quirky smile follows when he notices me checking him out. He seems nice enough. Maybe this guy can help cure the Caleb curse I’m under. Since Caleb, I’ve slept with zero men. Zero. I swear my vag is yelling at me for it. She throws full on tantrums every time a good-looking guy walks by, strutting like a peacock and whistling between my legs just to get their attention. If my vag could really catcall, I’m pretty sure I’d have, at least, ten men standing around me right now.

“Everly,” I tell him.

“So, Everly, would you like to dance?”

“With that voice, you could tell me to do backflips and I would do it. I can’t do a backflip, by the way.” I give him a wide smile which he returns. The bartender puts my drink on the bar. Just to show off, I down it in three gulps. Tony watches me attentively. I’m not sure why he’s so focused on what I’m doing. Emma notices him staring at me and kisses him hard. Ben grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor. He firmly grips my waist and brings me into him. Next thing I know, I’m the star of my own little dirty dancing episode. He caresses my body, making sure to run his hands over my ass and breasts. I drank that drink way too fast. I’m already feeling the haziness of alcohol taking over.

“You’re a good dancer,” I tell him.

“It’s easy when you have a beautiful partner,” he smiles again, his voice making me swoon. Then his face invades my space, his alcohol-laced lips touch mine. Instinctively, my mouth is open and I allow him access to my tonsils. We’re kissing like that for several minutes before he’s ripped away from me.

“Dude, keep your tongue out of my sister,” Max growls.

Ben holds up his hands and laughs. “Sorry man, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Southern accent . . . really, Ev?” Max glares at me. “Figures you find the only guy with an accent in the building and tonsil fuck him.”

“You have a thing for accents, huh?” Ben asks, smiling.

“Maybe a little,” I giggle. “Max, I’m a grown ass woman. Stop trying to be Dad.”

“Stop being so easy.”

“Like you haven’t shown up to a club and started making out with some random chick before. Stop being such a hypocrite. Go dance with your wife and leave me alone. This is your wedding day, for god’s sake.”

Breezy takes that moment to grab Max’s arm. She whispers something into his ear; he groans and glares at Ben one last time before Breezy drags him to the bar.

“Your brother is protective.”

“It’s the dress. All of his friends are acting like they need to take care of me tonight.” I notice Tony watching me attentively from over Emma’s shoulder. The dude has a girlfriend. His attention should be on her, not me.

Ben and I go back to dancing. Making out has stopped—for now. After five songs, I’m parched and have to pee badly. I excuse myself from Ben and make my way over to the bathroom. The line is atrocious.

A few girls ahead of me are giggling.

“He’s so hot. I can’t believe he’s here,” a blonde in a skimpy black dress exclaims. Her boobs are practically falling out of the top of her dress that’s so short it shows off her fake tanned ass cheeks. Her friend isn’t dressed much better. In fact, her dress is see-through. I can see her nipples through her shirt.
When in Vegas . . .

“I know. His body is to die for!” The other exclaims. “I’m hoping he calls us up to the V.I.P. lounge. That boy is sexy. Did you see the way he stared at my breasts? I thought I was going to come right there. I’m surprised we even got close to him. His body guards aren’t letting anyone near him.”

They both giggle again. I’m kinda curious who they are talking about. Vegas is a city famous for celebrities being everywhere. Maybe if I’m lucky, I can get an awesome selfie with a celebrity tonight. After ten agonizing minutes of waiting, I finally get my pee on and make my way back out into the club. Everyone is on the dance floor now, including Ben who has his tongue down some other girl’s oral cavity.

Well, crap, who am I going to find to distract me now?

I make my way over to the bar, ready to order myself another shot when someone grabs my arm and pulls me over into a dark corner of the club. It’s Tony.

“You wore that dress on purpose to torture me. Didn’t you, Ev?” His hand tickles my cleavage and I moan.

Why does he have to have a girlfriend?

“You have a girlfriend, Tony. That’s not my fault. You know Max would kill you if he knew we had a thing.”

“Just so you know, I haven’t forgotten about that night or you, Everly.”

“Are you and the girlfriend having problems, Tony? Is that why you have been eye fucking me all night and are suddenly tickling my breasts?”

He combs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “Shit, I don’t know what I’m doing. I found out some shit about Emma before we came here and I don’t know if she’s worth the trouble.”

“What trouble? Falling in love? Tony, I’ve never seen you this hung up on a girl before. My suggestion is to try everything you can to make it work. You two obviously have something. You’re Tony Jones, for god sake. Every woman who doesn’t want my brother wants you. You don’t get hung up on girls. The fact you’re spending your time obsessing over me right now, instead of spending time with your big-breasted blonde bombshell, is stupid. Go to her, Tony. Stop being a fucking douchebag and pay attention to your girlfriend. Whatever you found out about her is not worth whatever you’re trying to prove by flirting with me all night.”