He was beautiful. Her very own Collin Ferrell to gawk at. Shit, she was staring at him like a kid at the county fair looking at the bearded lady.
"Name's Declan. And you are?" he asked politely, extending his perfectly manicured hands. Shit, he has to be gay. No man is THIS put together. Oh, but that grip has power behind it. Hmm.
"Sami," she stuttered, clutching his callused, yet oddly soft hands into her own.
"As in Davis, or is that your name," he smirked, showing off his perfect teeth. Yum, Yum, Yummy.
She wanted to lick him from head to toe. He would taste like a dream; she just knew it.
"N…Nah…No, no" Sam was failing miserably to form any sort of coherent sentence. She closed her eyes to refocus her mind and bring her back to reality.
"It's Samantha, but my friends call me Sam, or Big Mike here calls me Sami."
She felt his hand on her chin, while her eyes were still closed. Pulling her chin up, she refocused to meet him eye-to-eye.
"Hello, gorgeous. I thought I lost you for a bit. You okay?" He was dreamy. Like, Patrick Dempsy McDreamy. Sam was giving off the worst vibe right now. She was surprised he hadn't left, mortified by her actions. "There are those beautiful eyes."
Gaga. That's how she felt for this man. She had never felt so gaga, or so affected by one man. Not even Cory got her this wet before. Believe her, he tried; he was horrendous in bed though. Even if she had given him a road map to her clit, he still would have gotten lost. GPS couldn't help that fool find the way to please her. Something told her Declan had his passport stamped and could navigate his way through in the dark. He oozed sex.
"Sam, I've had a pretty pisser of a night. Can I buy a beautiful woman, such as yourself, a drink?" He curled up on the bar stool next to her, resting his arms on the counter.
"Seems to be going around today," she said, almost inaudible.
"Bad night?" he assumed, leaning his elbow on the bar, and turning his attention, and legs, toward her.
"You have no idea." Rolling her eyes, she swiveled her stool towards him, intertwining their legs together, completely on accident. Well, kind of.
"How about this. Why don't we drink our sorrows away tonight and say, fuck it. I only have one stipulation," he mischievously winked at her.
"I'm terrified to ask," she raised her eyebrows with a grimace worried for her impending stipulation.
"You must drink whatever I put in front of you. Deal?"
"Just as long as you don't put drugs in my drink, I think we are good," she said with a giggle, pushing her coaster back and forth across the slippery bar. She had grown up in a huge Irish family. She would bet she could drink him under the table if she wanted to.
"Deal," extending his hand, he took hers in his, shaking it, while calling over Mike.
"What's up, Boss? What can I get you?" Mike asked, giving her the atta-girl, look.
"I would like to buy this lovely woman an Irish Car bomb."
Oh Hell. She could tolerate a lot, but Irish Car bombs were the devil. Watching Mike pull the Jameson Whiskey from the shelf, she knew she was in for a treat. He poured two half shots of Jameson, filling the rest of the shot with Irish cream, and two glasses with a pint of Guinness each. Pushing it toward Declan and herself, she wanted to run as fast as she could.
"Raise your shot. I need to make a toast to this beautiful woman who is doing me a favor by drinking with me so I don't seem too pathetic for drinking alone. As you slide down the bannister of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way. Here's to being single, drinking doubles, and seeing triples. Cheers."
This was definitely going to be an interesting night.
“Cheers.”
2
“But first...let me take a selfie.”
" S o , Sam, what is it you do?" Declan questioned as he laid his empty pint on the bar. "Is this one of those things where you really want to know, or are you just asking to try and get into my pants?" she giggled and snorted at Declan's
"Name's Declan. And you are?" he asked politely, extending his perfectly manicured hands. Shit, he has to be gay. No man is THIS put together. Oh, but that grip has power behind it. Hmm.
"Sami," she stuttered, clutching his callused, yet oddly soft hands into her own.
"As in Davis, or is that your name," he smirked, showing off his perfect teeth. Yum, Yum, Yummy.
She wanted to lick him from head to toe. He would taste like a dream; she just knew it.
"N…Nah…No, no" Sam was failing miserably to form any sort of coherent sentence. She closed her eyes to refocus her mind and bring her back to reality.
"It's Samantha, but my friends call me Sam, or Big Mike here calls me Sami."
She felt his hand on her chin, while her eyes were still closed. Pulling her chin up, she refocused to meet him eye-to-eye.
"Hello, gorgeous. I thought I lost you for a bit. You okay?" He was dreamy. Like, Patrick Dempsy McDreamy. Sam was giving off the worst vibe right now. She was surprised he hadn't left, mortified by her actions. "There are those beautiful eyes."
Gaga. That's how she felt for this man. She had never felt so gaga, or so affected by one man. Not even Cory got her this wet before. Believe her, he tried; he was horrendous in bed though. Even if she had given him a road map to her clit, he still would have gotten lost. GPS couldn't help that fool find the way to please her. Something told her Declan had his passport stamped and could navigate his way through in the dark. He oozed sex.
"Sam, I've had a pretty pisser of a night. Can I buy a beautiful woman, such as yourself, a drink?" He curled up on the bar stool next to her, resting his arms on the counter.
"Seems to be going around today," she said, almost inaudible.
"Bad night?" he assumed, leaning his elbow on the bar, and turning his attention, and legs, toward her.
"You have no idea." Rolling her eyes, she swiveled her stool towards him, intertwining their legs together, completely on accident. Well, kind of.
"How about this. Why don't we drink our sorrows away tonight and say, fuck it. I only have one stipulation," he mischievously winked at her.
"I'm terrified to ask," she raised her eyebrows with a grimace worried for her impending stipulation.
"You must drink whatever I put in front of you. Deal?"
"Just as long as you don't put drugs in my drink, I think we are good," she said with a giggle, pushing her coaster back and forth across the slippery bar. She had grown up in a huge Irish family. She would bet she could drink him under the table if she wanted to.
"Deal," extending his hand, he took hers in his, shaking it, while calling over Mike.
"What's up, Boss? What can I get you?" Mike asked, giving her the atta-girl, look.
"I would like to buy this lovely woman an Irish Car bomb."
Oh Hell. She could tolerate a lot, but Irish Car bombs were the devil. Watching Mike pull the Jameson Whiskey from the shelf, she knew she was in for a treat. He poured two half shots of Jameson, filling the rest of the shot with Irish cream, and two glasses with a pint of Guinness each. Pushing it toward Declan and herself, she wanted to run as fast as she could.
"Raise your shot. I need to make a toast to this beautiful woman who is doing me a favor by drinking with me so I don't seem too pathetic for drinking alone. As you slide down the bannister of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way. Here's to being single, drinking doubles, and seeing triples. Cheers."
This was definitely going to be an interesting night.
“Cheers.”
2
“But first...let me take a selfie.”
" S o , Sam, what is it you do?" Declan questioned as he laid his empty pint on the bar. "Is this one of those things where you really want to know, or are you just asking to try and get into my pants?" she giggled and snorted at Declan's
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