law prohibiting suit coats and ties after the I Dos. I ditched the jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and loosened my tie during the cocktail hour, but I was still irritable.
My only distraction was Shannon Walsh and the faint mark on the backside of her shoulder that was most definitely a product of my teeth.
And now, after hours spent playing nice with every random person my mother insisted I meet at this wedding, I wanted to play dirty with Shortcake. Yeah, I knew she hated that nickname, but there was nothing better than seeing her fired up. I was sticking with it until I found something that pissed her off even more.
Her eyes darted back and forth over the reception area, and then she hit me with a condescending glare that could melt steel. “How’s what going to go?”
This woman did strange things to me. I wanted to argue with her, taunt her, hit every one of her triggers, and then I wanted to fuck her so hard I forgot a time when I wasn’t inside her.
It wasn’t affection or anything like that. Fuck no. Just another round of this goddamn post-deployment horny, and I needed to get it out of my system. Sweat it out like a fucking fever.
“Don’t weddings make chicks crazy horny?”
She rolled her eyes at the champagne bottle as she filled her glass. “Yeah, there’s nothing cliché about that,” she said. She turned a sympathetic smile toward me, her eyes crinkling. “Look at me, rambling on about wedding clichés. I’m sorry, honey. All this love and forever bullshit must make you realize you’re old and hopelessly alone. Have you thought about a companion cactus? Your gun collection can’t be keeping you very warm at night.”
Oh yeah. This bitch had balls.
“I don’t recall discussing firearms with you last night,” I said.
“You’re telling me you don’t have a gun collection, Mr. Semper Fi?”
“That’s the Marines, ma’am.” I gave her a tight nod, waiting for her to make the next move. I wanted to get her alone, but I didn’t want to look like a clingy bitch in the process.
“It bears noting that the point has been neither discredited nor refuted,” she murmured, gesturing to her imaginary judge and jury. Lo had mentioned she was an attorney—yes, I asked my sister about Shannon before the ceremony and I’m a big, squishy pussy who can’t have a one night stand without making it complicated—and it looked good on her. Even when the lawyering came at my expense. “Permission to treat the witness as unresponsive.”
“Your room or mine,” I said.
“How about you go to your room, and if I have any interest in seeing you again, I’ll find you.” She bent and grabbed two new champagne bottles. “Bye now.”
“Excuse me, beer wench?”
Shannon’s head snapped up, and that pop of contempt in her eyes was everything I needed. I didn’t see any reason to analyze my newfound fascination with insulting her and winding her up. “Where do you get off—”
“Your mouth would be my preference, but I’ll settle for your tits. Or your ass. Whichever.” I rubbed my chin, thinking. I really missed that beard. “No. Wait. Mouth. For sure.”
“You’re a disgusting”—she slammed one champagne bottle on the stone bartop—“misogynist”—and then the other—“meathead.”
“We’ve been over that one, Shortcake, and you already know I pray at the altar of pussy.” I smirked as her face heated, her anger rising by the second, and it was game fucking on . “But don’t worry: I won’t tell anyone how much you like being manhandled. You should know I’m good at keeping secrets.”
She folded her arms on the bar and gestured for me to lean forward. “Unfortunately for you,” she said, her index finger circling toward the tent, “I’ve already told everyone about your very small”—she glanced toward my crotch—“situation. You spend a lot of time in cold water, you know, being a commando and all. Shrinkage. It was bound to catch up with you.”
Shannon
My only distraction was Shannon Walsh and the faint mark on the backside of her shoulder that was most definitely a product of my teeth.
And now, after hours spent playing nice with every random person my mother insisted I meet at this wedding, I wanted to play dirty with Shortcake. Yeah, I knew she hated that nickname, but there was nothing better than seeing her fired up. I was sticking with it until I found something that pissed her off even more.
Her eyes darted back and forth over the reception area, and then she hit me with a condescending glare that could melt steel. “How’s what going to go?”
This woman did strange things to me. I wanted to argue with her, taunt her, hit every one of her triggers, and then I wanted to fuck her so hard I forgot a time when I wasn’t inside her.
It wasn’t affection or anything like that. Fuck no. Just another round of this goddamn post-deployment horny, and I needed to get it out of my system. Sweat it out like a fucking fever.
“Don’t weddings make chicks crazy horny?”
She rolled her eyes at the champagne bottle as she filled her glass. “Yeah, there’s nothing cliché about that,” she said. She turned a sympathetic smile toward me, her eyes crinkling. “Look at me, rambling on about wedding clichés. I’m sorry, honey. All this love and forever bullshit must make you realize you’re old and hopelessly alone. Have you thought about a companion cactus? Your gun collection can’t be keeping you very warm at night.”
Oh yeah. This bitch had balls.
“I don’t recall discussing firearms with you last night,” I said.
“You’re telling me you don’t have a gun collection, Mr. Semper Fi?”
“That’s the Marines, ma’am.” I gave her a tight nod, waiting for her to make the next move. I wanted to get her alone, but I didn’t want to look like a clingy bitch in the process.
“It bears noting that the point has been neither discredited nor refuted,” she murmured, gesturing to her imaginary judge and jury. Lo had mentioned she was an attorney—yes, I asked my sister about Shannon before the ceremony and I’m a big, squishy pussy who can’t have a one night stand without making it complicated—and it looked good on her. Even when the lawyering came at my expense. “Permission to treat the witness as unresponsive.”
“Your room or mine,” I said.
“How about you go to your room, and if I have any interest in seeing you again, I’ll find you.” She bent and grabbed two new champagne bottles. “Bye now.”
“Excuse me, beer wench?”
Shannon’s head snapped up, and that pop of contempt in her eyes was everything I needed. I didn’t see any reason to analyze my newfound fascination with insulting her and winding her up. “Where do you get off—”
“Your mouth would be my preference, but I’ll settle for your tits. Or your ass. Whichever.” I rubbed my chin, thinking. I really missed that beard. “No. Wait. Mouth. For sure.”
“You’re a disgusting”—she slammed one champagne bottle on the stone bartop—“misogynist”—and then the other—“meathead.”
“We’ve been over that one, Shortcake, and you already know I pray at the altar of pussy.” I smirked as her face heated, her anger rising by the second, and it was game fucking on . “But don’t worry: I won’t tell anyone how much you like being manhandled. You should know I’m good at keeping secrets.”
She folded her arms on the bar and gestured for me to lean forward. “Unfortunately for you,” she said, her index finger circling toward the tent, “I’ve already told everyone about your very small”—she glanced toward my crotch—“situation. You spend a lot of time in cold water, you know, being a commando and all. Shrinkage. It was bound to catch up with you.”
Shannon
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