“Fancy it is, then,” I agreed, heading out of the private estate where my family all resided and driving fast towards the centre of the city where all the best places to eat and drink were.
Jack kept hold of Brooklyn as we drove, his big hands stroking soft lines against her back while she wriggled and moaned in his lap, no doubt turning him on even more than she was me, and I had to slap myself around the face as we parked up just to make myself concentrate.
“This fancy enough?” I asked, jerking my chin at the exclusive bar where a line extended down the sidewalk and everyone looked fucking rich.
“Oooh, yes,” Brooklyn cooed, clapping her hands and I nodded, getting out of the truck and rounding it to open the door so that she could follow.
I took her hand, pulling her out of Jack’s lap, and he was hot on her heels as he got out too.
Brutus was crashed out in the bed of the truck, gravy still speckled around his chops and his belly full of stolen steak, so he just ignored us as we headed towards the entrance to the bar.
The man on the door knew my face and he said nothing as we strode past the line, leaving us to our own devices as we walked into the dimly lit space where soft music was playing and people dressed in designer clothes sat around poncy little tables.
I took Brooklyn’s hand in mine and strode straight to the bar, pulling out a stool which some fucker in a suit was sitting on and flashing him a threatening grin when he whipped around to protest. He soon scampered away and I lifted Brooklyn onto it, placing her down and kissing her again, my heart racing as the reality of what we’d just done set in. I’d finally told my pa to get fucked, and the adrenaline coursing through my limbs was desperate for an outlet to celebrate the fact.
I barked an order at the bartender who hurriedly poured a few glasses of top shelf scotch for us, and Jack snatched the bottle from his hand before he could retreat.
I waved off his protests, making no complaints as Jack drank from the neck of the bottle, leaving me and Brooklyn to knock our glasses against each other’s and sink our liquor.
Brooklyn instantly started heaving and spluttering, cursing loudly and drawing attention from all around us as I laughed at her, and she fought to catch her breath from the burn of the scotch on the way down.
“That’s it, girl, cough it all up,” I said, slapping her back firmly as she clung to my arm and swore at me.
What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner came on over the speakers and Brooklyn perked right up.
"Oh, this is the song from the Sexy Dancing film," she gasped, forgetting the fact that she’d been near death from that drink thirty seconds ago.
"What?" I asked.
"You know with Patrick Gravy and the baby crying in the corner."
"Dirty Dancing?" I asked with a frown.
"No. Sexy Dancing. I always wanted to do that in-the-air thing."
“Dirty,” I growled.
“Sexy,” she snarled back.
“Dirty.”
“Sexy.”
“Dirty.”
“Sexy.”
“Sexy,” Jack agreed and I narrowed my gaze on his expressionless face because he fucking knew it was Dirty and he was just being a cunt.
Brooklyn gave me the murder eyes and I threw my hands into the air in exasperation.
"Gah! This isn't even that song," I pointed out. “And you're getting, like, every detail wrong."
"One of us is,” she muttered, exchanging a look with Jack which suggested I was the idiot here. “Are you going to do the dance thing with me, Hellfire? I wanna fly up above all these people and make them jealous of my moves. Be my Patrick Gravy and I'll be your baby. Please."
“We're in a bar, not a club,” I laughed, my gaze running over her hungrily.
"Err, I think these people came here for a show, Hellfire. Are we putting one on or not?"
I glanced around at the fancy tables filled with even fancier people who were all paying little to no attention to the music that was playing softly over the speakers. None of whom were so much as shimmying in their chairs. This wasn’t a place where people came to dance. Then again, I’d never much cared for what was supposed to happen and where.
"Fuck it." I tossed Jack’s rejected glass of scotch to the back of my throat and dropped the glass on the table. "I'll be your Patrick Gravy, but I want you to do something much more interesting with those watermelons when we get out of here than just carry them."
“Put them in my dress again and make them bounce about like big bazingas?” she asked with a pout and I ran my thumb over her lips.
“No, Spider. I love your tiny tatas just as they are.”
“You love my tiny tatas?” she echoed in disbelief and I nodded in confirmation.
Her smile lit me up inside and I took her hand, twisting her beneath my arm before encouraging her to jog away between the tables in preparation for her big moment. Not that I knew what the fuck I was doing, but she was tiny, and I was pretty certain I could toss her up over my head without any practice. Either that or I’d drop her on her arse and we’d all get a good laugh out of it. Seemed like a win, win to me.
Jack stayed by the bar, slowly drinking from the neck of the scotch bottle and watching us as we got ready for our big moment.
I had no idea at what point Brooklyn planned on launching herself at me seeing as this was the wrong song, but as Tina dove into another rendition of the chorus, Brooklyn broke into a sprint and raced across the room straight for me.
I grinned widely as she came, holding my hands out and catching her waist as she leapt into the air, raising her up and over my head, looking up at her as she straightened out, shrieking in delight.
Several people started clapping as I held her there, turning her in a circle before tossing her up towards the ceiling and catching her again, her legs winding around my chest as I slowly lowered her down the length of my body.
My heart was thundering at the feeling of her against me and a growl rumbled through my chest as she dropped her head back and I swung her in a circle, making her dark hair fan out as her hips met with mine.
Brooklyn gasped as I yanked her upright in my arms once more, our chests colliding and our lips almost touching as I rolled my hips against hers and held her in place so that there was no doubting just how hard I was between us.
“Here?” she panted, grinding against me and giving me a look so full of sex that I almost gave in.
But one glance at the crowd looking at us told me clear enough that I didn’t really want to fuck my wife right in front of them.
“Outside,” I countered, keeping hold of her and carrying her straight towards the exit beyond the bar.
Brooklyn ground her hips against mine as I pushed through the emergency exit door, but instead of finding my way out into a darkened alley, I found myself at the foot of a set of stairs with a second door chained up tight in front of me. Seemed mighty dangerous for a fire escape, but more importantly, it was mighty inconvenient for me and my plans to bury myself inside my wife.
“Fuck,” I cursed, looking around and Brooklyn slapped me as my attention wavered from her.
“I don’t like waiting, Niall,” she snarled and damn she was a ferocious creature when she was horny.
My gaze fell on the stairs, but before I could figure out how to make them work, I noticed a sign for the roof instead.
“Alright then,” I agreed, hoisting her up in my arms and starting to climb the stairs.
She moved her mouth to my throat and began kissing me in a way that made my entire body fill with need and I upped my pace as I pushed on with the climb.
By the time we made it to the top of the eighth floor, I was damn close to having a heart attack and she had my shirt entirely unbuttoned, her mouth leaving bite marks and bruises on my flesh as well as lipstick stains which I didn’t ever want to wash off.
I shoved the door to the roof open and stumbled out onto it, finding a low wall at the edge of the building and sinking down on it as I caught my breath, settling her on my lap.