05-22-2012, 12:06 PM
Maybe it was the wine or her late night, but, for a split second, the green eyes flickered into different, distinct colors: one red and one blue. It vanished as quickly as it came and he smiled suggestively, leaning slightly so the edge of his brow gave it a wicked slant, “I can think of a few things.” He scooted over and wrapped an arm around her, snuggling slightly, before his other pressed its back lightly to her forehead. “The first would be to get you back to your abode. I am pretty sure that smoking hot should not have anything to do with beer goggles and burning up from alcohol. Are you a virgin?”
He winked at her, flipping their subject back and forth for the umpteenth time, enough tongue-in-cheek to throw off most people, “Have you ever drank before?” Of course that was what he meant, though such play could constitute a multitude of responses, both positive and negative. He had to toe the line. “We should probably get you to bed,” he smiled lightly, scooting off of the seat, a spot that had originally been Vincent’s. He offered a hand to her, still beaming, and noted, “It does bring a lovely flush to your cheeks, though.” There was no doubt that he was a rambling man, but skirt-chaser came just as effortlessly.
“On the way we can pick up anything you might need in the morning. I imagine your first time will bring up a surprising hangover headache for you. I can set a few things up so that, when you wake, you’ll need to do little to resolve that. Perhaps some coffee and pills, a trashcan by the bed and a mint,” he chuckled and then purred into her ear as he reached for her. “A massage does wonders the next day,” he murmured. “It squeezes the alcohol out of your muscles; it’s like getting wasted a second time.”
|