Home > Shaken, Not Stirred (Last Call #5)(23)

Shaken, Not Stirred (Last Call #5)(23)
Author: Sawyer Bennett

By the time I make it to the bar, order a beer, and pay for it, Tenn is finishing up his game with Mallory. Because her pool-playing skills are as stupid as her name, it didn’t take very long.

As the challenger, I rack the balls with a sly grin on my face. Tenn stands over near the table with Mallory pressed in close to him, making sure she garners his attention. He tilts his head her way and smiles at something she says. She shoots me a triumphant look and steps in closer to him, laying her hand on his stomach.

I want to break her fucking wrist, but I refrain. Lucky her.

And lucky me, actually, because since I promised Tenn a blow job if I win, I can guarantee you this game won’t take long. I can guarantee you that he’ll be walking out the door with me tonight and not Mallory, woman of such a stupid name her parents should be shot.

I release the rack and step away from the table, turning to the wall to grab a cue stick from the holder. By the time I turn back around, Tenn is letting loose and breaks the rack cleanly. Two stripes fall in and he gives me a wolfish grin.

I grin back because I know exactly how this game is going to play out. He might make his next shot, but then he’ll start missing them. He’ll make a show, of course, but he’s going to let me win because he wants my lips wrapped around his dick. I want my lips wrapped around his dick just so I can have another night with him. One more night, I promise myself, and then I’ll be done.

“You’re going down, Goldie,” Tenn says from across the table.

Mallory actually chimes out, “Kick her ass, baby.”

I ignore her and give a gracious swipe of my hand toward the green felt. “Then, by all means… take me down.”

And much to my utter shock, Tenn proceeds to run the entire fucking table. He sinks shot after shot… striped ball after striped ball falling prey to the corner and side pockets. He doesn’t look at me once but concentrates on the game, stalking around the table and calculating his best move. In just a matter of a few minutes, the table is completely devoid of stripes and the only shot left is the eight ball.

He taps the far corner pocket right in front of me, his eyes lifting up to mine. He gives me a hard, appraising stare before he lets the cue stick go. I watch as the cue ball—almost as if in slow motion—hits the eight ball perfectly and it assuredly sinks into the pocket, garnering him the win.

My jaw drops, and this time, my mouth stays open.

He just won.

He just gave up the chance to be with me. He just gave up a fucking blow job, and let me tell you… I give stellar fucking blow jobs.

Tenn casually places the cue stick on the table and walks up to me. I would expect him to have a smirk on his face, but his eyes are deadly serious. “I win. Now you have to answer my question.”

“What?” I ask in confusion, because I’m still boggled that he didn’t throw the game.

“My question,” he repeats. “I want to know the name of the man that hurt you. I want the name of the fucker that made you want to use men and toss them away like yesterday’s garbage.”

My face flames red with mortification, not because he called me a user of men. But red with embarrassment that he has seemingly figured me all out. That he has managed to narrow down my entire existence to just one small name.

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out shakily. I try to resolve my voice but it quakes with unease as I deny him. “There’s no name.”

Tenn’s eyes flick back and forth between mine, probing deep for a hint of veracity. I hold his gaze, refusing to drop my eyes that are sagging under the weight of the untruth I just told. When it’s clear that I won’t give him what he wants, his eyes turn sad. “That’s a lie, Casey.”

I refuse to acknowledge the truth of that actual statement, so I just lift my chin up higher in defiance.

Tenn looks at me just a moment more, and then tips his head to me. “Well… thanks for the game. You have a nice night, Goldie.”

My head swivels to follow him as he steps past me and walks up to Mallory. He touches her shoulder and leans down toward her ear. “You want to get out of here?”

A loud, angry buzzing sound starts in my ears as I realize that Tenn is walking away from me. That he’s getting ready to leave with a woman whose name is so stupid, it doesn’t even bear repeating. He’s going to leave and I’m never going to see him again, and while it scares the shit out of me, I have this feeling deep down inside that I’d be making a colossal mistake if I let him walk away.

Tenn takes Mallory by the hand and holds his other out for Kyle to bump fists. “Later, dude,” he says, and then Tenn doesn’t even spare me a glance as he turns to head out the door.

He takes one step away from me, then another, and I before I can stop myself, I yell out, “Wait.”

Tenn immediately halts in his tracks, drops Mallory’s hand, and turns to look at me. I stride up to him, stopping when we’re toe to toe. His eyebrows rise in question, and his face is open and accepting.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and say, “His name is Jeff.”

Chapter 8

Tenn

The fucker’s name is Jeff.

I want to hunt him down and kill him, because whatever he’s done, he’s taken a beautiful woman and made her lose herself.

Casey stares at me a moment, her eyes wide and vulnerable. I imagine Casey doesn’t suffer vulnerability well, so I’m not surprised when she drops her face and pushes past Mallory and me toward the bar. I watch as she runs behind it and grabs her purse. The other bartender says something to her but she ignores him and rushes out, straight down the hall that leads to the front door.

   
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