Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series) by J Gordon Smith

tore through her body. The tequila on her chest splashed over the rim and the puddle of liquor on her stomach leaked in a rivulet that rolled across and down both sides above her hips. The other partier bodies pressed close, their heads craned around each other to watch the sacrificial blade plunge through her heart. The chanting roared around the table.
    Then Kyle muscled through the crowd and pushed Sardis away. Sardis shoved back but Kyle’s relentless stare forced his brother to retreat. Kyle put his face near Amanda’s ear, “Do you want to do this?” Amanda’s eyes cracked open. She did not know what to think. Her back and bottom had soaked up the dregs on the table. The tequila and salt remained gritty and stung her freshly razor-shaved thighs. The shot glass squeezed tall and heavy over her heart. She took a long breath of air, now realizing how she must have been holding it since being flopped on the table. More tequila spilled from her belly and the shot wet her breasts, tickling the skin where the liquor puddled. She looked in Kyle’s eyes, beautiful and tugging at her soul. She nodded slowly. Oh god! She wanted to cover her face with her hands but the two demons still clamped her elbows in dangerous vices.
    Kyle lifted her salted leg by gripping her ankle like she had watched him grip his guitar neck. His other fingers sent warmth and a light touch strumming up her leg. He climbed on the tabletop kneeling between her legs and kissed the skin behind her knee. Sensations shot between her knee and her pelvis with such force that a reflexive moan seeped around the lemon wedge blocking her mouth. Her eyes nearly closed but Kyle put her foot back down to the damp table, her heel this time digging into the wood. She watched Kyle strip his shirt from his back. Her eyes widened as she took in the shape of his shoulders and chest and the ripping six-pack that channeled her eyes down to the rim of his jeans. A chorus of cheers rose from the women watching the spectacle. Amanda clamped her knees together. Her razor nicks burned deeper as the salt ground in the tequila. Kyle gently split her knees with his fingers. His head dipped between them, his day of facial stubble scraped along her until she felt the softness of his ears. Then she forgot all of that when Kyle’s tongue skittered along her inner thigh. The tequila and salt pushed and lapped up with his tongue. As his lips closed in on the base of her thigh, she sucked in a quick breath. The puddle in her belly splashed over her sides. Reflexes took control of her legs and they spread on their own. At the last moment, his lips left her skin and skipped through the air, splashing down in the remaining tequila drops in her belly button. He licked the spot dry before she could giggle. He moved forward, his intense eyes locked with hers as his body stalked up hers like a panther, rippling muscle and subdued strength poised to launch into violence at any moment. Oh god! His head dipped down to the shot that he picked up with his teeth and kicked back. He tossed the empty glass aside and lunged for her lips.
    Amanda could only taste the salty mix of tequila and the abused lemon crushed between their lips. His tongue found her tongue and she wrapped along his, squeezing out the lemon between them where it slapped down against the warm, wet wood.
    The demons released her arms. She raised them up and twined them around Kyle, drawing him closer. His hands moved around to support her neck and his other hand lifted her from the small of her back while her hip cradled against his forearm. She forgot the whole mass of spectators as he swung her up and away from the table and the people.
    Kyle broke from her kiss, “I thought I better rescue you. And then I couldn’t stop.”
    She pushed her breasts against him, “I … I don’t want you to stop.” Her hands touched along the chorded muscles of his back. She saw he had a tribal tattoo that marked one shoulder and along his