CALLUM
The chatter in the club fails to distract me from the buzz in my pocket. I glance around the flashing floor at my teammates, some of whom have found themselves invited into cozy nooks with their female fans—and I use the term “fan” loosely.
Because, when Novak asked one of them if she caught the game, she went on to emphatically express that it wassoooo haaawtwhen he’ddunkedthe puck in thebasket. There was no correcting that statement. Not like Novak cared when her tongue was so far down his throat she could check the size of his tonsils.
I lean over the bar counter and flag a server.
“Another one of these, please.” I wave an empty beer bottle at him before turning and checking the scene. About a dozen feet away is a brunette in a sequin dress, swaying with her girlfriends.
I might enjoy chatting her up, especially since I’ve caught her checking me out a few times already. Her gaze flits to mine yet againand I hold it, tilting my head and curving my lips just so. I know I’ve hit my mark when she grins back. Maybe after I speak with Moore, I’ll head over and say hi.
The hot brunette begins making her way toward me. Okay, then. Moore can wait.
My pocket buzzes again and I pull out my phone, doing a double take when I realize who’s been messaging me.
Tater Tots:
Thank you for the ride on Sunday.
Alia texted me? This is unexpected, given how tentative she was when I’d asked for her number.
Tater Tots:
This is Alia, btw. Alia Joshi.
I bite back a grin.
Me:
Name doesn’t ring a bell. Now, if you know a Tater Tots. . .
“Hiya, I’m Cheyenne.” The hot brunette smiles, somehow even hotter now that she’s closer. Her hair is perfectly parted in the middle, flowing down to curl around her lush breasts. Her dress is cut low enough to give me apretty fullidea of what I could get my hands on tonight.
“Callum.” I make space for her near me. “May I buy you a drink, Cheyenne?”
“I’d love that.” She leans in and I do the same, lending her my ear so I can hear her over the din of the music when she whispers, “Maybe later, I could drink somethin’ off you.”
My neglected dick reacts happily to the possibility of a warm mouth to come into instead of my hand. Southern hospitality at its finest.
Cheyenne went from zero to one hundred real quick. Though I usually prefer subtle flirtation before we begin dropping innuendos, I can’t fault her for saying exactly what she has on her mind.
I’m no fool. My dry spell needs to end before I do something stupid with a different brunette who’s been on my mind lately. Ten months without the touch of another body is a goddamn long time. I’m about to respond to Cheyenne’s offer when my phone lights up with Alia’s reply.
Tater Tots:
I should’ve led with a potato pun. Would you recognize me then?
Delight bubbles within me. A throat clears and I find Cheyenne staring, her sharp eyes flicking to my phone before resting on my face once more. I can tell she doesn’t like the idea of my attention anywhere except on her, but my phone is burning a hole in my hand. Alia’s message taunts me like one big dare I’m sorely tempted to accept. I should turn my phone off so that I canget off.Instead, I raise my glaringly silent device in the air.
“Sorry Cheyenne, I need to make a call.”
She blinks, like I’m a person of questionable intelligence. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’m really sorry,” I repeat, wincing when she scoffs.
“Your loss.”
I watch the promise of a spectacular blowjob disappear onto the crowded dance floor. Yep, that was a dick move, but I can’t find it in myself to mourn too long. All thoughts of Cheyenne fade away, especially when conversation with a particularly punny brunette is on the table.