Tequila Nights

TEQUIL
A
NIGHTS

BY

MELISSA JANE 

Published by Melissa Jane

© Copyright

This book is licensed for your enjoyment only. It is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to people living or dead, locales and events are entirely coincidental. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient

Produced by Melissa Jane

Front cover by:

Editor: Kaylene at
Swish Design & Editing

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Other titles by Melissa Jane

The Bittersweet Series:

Little Doll (Book 1)

Crimson Desert (Book 2)

Laughing Eyes (Book 3)

Sofia (Book 4)

“You are the master of your fate, and captain of your destiny. Except for when fate and destiny don’t care about your plans.”

Unknown

PROLOGUE

A penis.

That’s how this whole debacle started.

Granted, it was classically beautiful and attached to a spectacular looking man who wore an even more spectacular smile.

But that there was the problem.

When the penis broke from its statue stillness and moved across the studio toward me—smile in tow—I knew I was in for a world of pain.

Good, pleasurable pain.

CHAPTER
1

There was a buzz outside the studio while we waited for the Professor to arrive. Murmurs, whispers, all carrying an excited edge. Dropping my shoulder bag to my feet I stared over the balcony and took in the city view. My art classes always fell early evening so catching the sun disappearing behind the skyline of buildings was always a stunning sight.

As the banter continued behind me breaking the spell, I honed my senses into what they were all saying. Through the fits of giggles, I couldn’t quite piece the puzzle together and I doubted they were even following themselves.

“Have you heard?” Marge approached from behind, her own voice suggestive.

I met her excited gaze and noticed a new sparkle in her usually tired eyes. She was twenty years older than me and a self-proclaimed lonely spinster, so to see her in such a tizz only made me smile.

“No, I only just arrived. What’s happening?”

“Word has it we’re in for a treat.” Marge looked coy, winking behind her glasses as she said the word ‘treat.’

“I’m not following, Marge.”

“Professor Lindsay was seen talking to a rather finely sculptured man downstairs. We know she always walks up with the models.”

If what Marge was saying was indeed correct, we were in for a treat. Our still-life drawing Professor placed great emphasis on the extremes. The technical difficulty of drawing skeletal forms or the beauty of line with excessive curves. There was a little gray area which often meant we either had life models with protruding bones or who were morbidly obese. Rarely was there anything in between and most commonly they were women. Tonight it seemed, was our lucky night.

Movement behind Marge caught my attention. It was Professor Lindsay and the model in question, as they exited the elevator on the sixth-floor balcony we were all standing on. They were on the other end at least a hundred yards away and in the twilight it was difficult to make out any features. Entering the door furthest away, they both disappeared, the murmurs and whispers on the balcony now of hot anticipation.

***

Anyone would think we were all sex starved.

Maybe we were.

On the average Monday night, we would stagger in mustering all the enthusiasm we could manage for a beginning of the week class. Tonight? I witnessed hormonally imbalanced, undersexed, ravenous women bulldoze their way into the studio vying for prime positioning.

Marge had been there one second, gone the next, leaving her unfinished sentence about her dogs eczema patch suddenly cut short when she heard the doors open. Abandoned, I waited and watched in amusement as the hysteria suddenly died off and the women feigned their shy composure. Being the last to enter I took my solo walk past the solitary, gown covered figure positioned on the center box. Despite keeping my eyes glued to my station, I could feel myself blush. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t sex starved. I had BOB and he was very accommodating and entertained me on many a lonely night. I could only reason that the hype from the other women was rubbing off on me.

Placing my bag between the easel feet, I retrieved my sketching kit and peered over my shoulder to Marge. She was rolling back and forth on her heels and toes like she was a horse at the gate-busting to get out, her energy so unlike her ‘norm.’ Still, she managed to give another wink, her face turning a darker shade of red.

Professor Lindsay’s shrill voice filtered through the connecting room, her conversation with the phone coming to an abrupt end. “Ladies, ladies, ladies,” she addressed us all, an unmistakable glimmer in her eyes revealing her own excitement. God. There was so much wrong with this situation.

Everyone remained abnormally quiet, apparently too nervous to voice their approval of the only man in the room.

“We’re late to start,” the Professor continued. “But I can sense the anticipation in the class, so please prepare yourselves while Leo undresses.” I know I wasn’t the only one who heard her voice falter at the last word. When she smiled suggestively at Leo, I could see her teeth stained with a burgundy hue.
Was she drunk?

Despite the instruction to prepare no one moved a muscle. Except for me. Well, it was a half attempt. I moved slowly with one eye locked on the movement in the middle of the room. No way was I being the only one to miss out on the grand reveal. When he stood, I got to see his face for the first time. Chiseled and tanned with large, dark but engaging eyes. He looked to be Spanish, maybe South American and with cheekbones I could lick for days. Thinking of doing just that, I found my mouth to be dry. Parched like a seven-year drought. Without any water, I moved my cheeks to energize my saliva glands. Leo stood strong and confident, a born natural at stripping his clothes off to a group of panting women. Untying the white belt with deliciously capable hands, the sides of the gown gaped open and so did my mouth.

Fuck me sideways!

The viewing window was small, but his package was not.

Inhaling sharply, the saliva I’d desperately acquired shot to the back of the throat and down the wrong pipe. Before I could manage the situation I was choking, the horrendous noise cutting through the thick silence of the room. All eyes fixed on me, their curious and somewhat annoyed gazes causing my cheeks to burn. Only Leo appeared concerned, his body in the early stages of moving to assist. Waving my hand in desperation, I dismissed his gesture. Unconvinced, but mindful of rejection, he reclaimed his position on the podium as I gathered my composure.

With beads of sweat dripping down my temples and sore abs from the coughing fit, I looked nervously around the room, avoiding everyone and everything until, like a magnet, my attention was again focused on the middle of the room.

His eyes remained locked to mine, dark intensity mixed with the slightest hint of amusement. My pulse quickened, the beads of sweat turning to rivulets. He was daring me. Presenting a challenge, I found myself more than happy to accept despite my head screaming at me to run. I was hooked. Trapped in a moment when the rest of the room faded to black and all I saw were his hypnotic movements.

Shrugging the gown over his sculptured shoulders, my knees grew weak. Frozen in place, I watched, utterly transfixed as the fabric mournfully fell to the floor pooling at his feet.

I couldn’t breathe.

My lungs were failing.

My core clenched and I felt a strangely pleasurable sensation between my legs. Strange because I’d only ever experienced the feeling with some form of manual stimulation. This was happening just by gawking at a now completely naked, jaw-dropping, panty-wetting gorgeous man.

Leo’s lips twitched causing my eyes to break focus from his.

What were dire straits earlier was now a steady stream beginning its path dribbling from the corner of my mouth. I’d never been so lucky to have witnessed such a God-like man before. He was perfection in every sense of the word. Strong broad shoulders framed his physique. A visible six pack beckoned me to run my fingers over the bumps and grooves. His legs were lean but well sculptured.

And his cock!

Oh dear!

That cock could do some damage and instantly I was jealous of every girl lucky enough to have already experienced it.

***

Setting my drawing kit on the easel ledge, I inhaled steadily to calm myself of both embarrassment from choking and of letting the entire class know I wanted to take Leo every which way I knew how. Of course, I didn’t say it. I didn’t need to. It was written across my stupid face as I picked my jaw up off the ground.

Professor Lindsay was rambling away, her words nothing more than white noise as I lamely attempted to right myself. Leo had taken his position on the podium, opting to stand full frontal in my direction, much to the visible and audible disappointment of the other ladies. He was looking my way. I could feel his curious stare, yet I couldn’t bring myself to meet it for fear of unraveling again. How the heck was I going to get through an hour of this? Most women would be envious of my position. I was sure the others were out for my blood. They had targets on my head despite their homely appearance. But I was born uncoordinated and always would be, and this situation just screamed ‘humiliation.’

Leo was obviously a confident man. He didn’t appear cocky…for the lack of a better word. He wasn’t trying to show his spectacular goods in the obnoxious way others would. There was a reassurance there. Like he could sense my pain and was encouraging me to just get in there and draw his tackle.

Clearing my throat, I retrieved the pencil I needed to begin my soft outline of his beautiful physique. His eyes watched my every stroke on the paper while mine avoided his. Despite my earlier reservations, my body relaxed and fell into a rhythm as my mind traced around his face, shoulders, torso and legs. Leo was the perfect model, holding his position, his forearm raised above his head, his body on a slight casual lean.

Professor Lindsay navigated the room, her scrupulous eyes critiquing our moves before we even made them. To say she wasn’t fond of my style was an overstatement. Where I craved classical perfection, she demanded abstraction. The hint of suggestion. When she demonstrated to me one particular evening what she ‘expected,’ I looked at the page in confusion. While she seemed mighty pleased with her work all I saw were misplaced lines that didn’t connect. I believe she saw me as a lost cause for she never attempted to sway me again.

It took all the strength I possessed to focus on being the responsible adult I prided myself on. Twenty minutes in and I was failing…miserably. Not by my own accord. Caught off-guard my eyes narrowed in determining if what I saw was actually happening.

I knew men struggled to control it, but…really?

Leo still hadn’t broken eye contact, his now semi-erect cock sending my heart pounding in my chest and that familiar pang between my legs.

Fuck me!

My nerves got the better of me and I resorted back to the fumbling idiot I’d successfully reigned in for the last twenty minutes. Taking a wobbly step back using the easel to steady me, I knocked the kit off the ledge sending charcoal bits careering through the air. They cluttered with tiny dings on the cement floor drawing the unwanted attention and now patronizing stares of all in the room. They were growing tired of my antics and so was I.

Inwardly rolling my eyes, I dropped to my knees and collected the incriminating pieces while muttering a string of curses at each one.

Two feet appeared before me and even though they couldn’t talk, I could feel their judgmental stares through their worn leather straps.

“Is everything all right, Ms. Marks?”

Without gracing her uncaring tone by looking up, I replied curtly, “Fine thank you. Just a little mishap.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed before her obnoxious feet strolled off in Marge’s direction. Righting myself for the umpteenth time that night, I continued my sketch, the lines now possessing a wobble courtesy of a shaky hand.

***

I spent the next ten minutes lost in thought, dreaming of a hole I could crawl into and focusing on muscle tone. Leo had already changed positions thanks to Professor Lindsay’s ‘quick line’ theory. Unlike the others, I stuck with the one pose until it was so well rendered the figure could almost step off the paper.

Swapping my charcoal for a slender graphite stick, I toned the top thigh muscle near the groin. It was then the air closed in around me, the hairs on my neck standing on end. I stilled, mid stroke, frightened to take the lead any closer to the figure’s cock knowing the real-life version was standing so close behind me.

Surreptitiously glancing to the middle of the room without turning my head, my suspicions were confirmed. Leo was no longer on the podium.

“I love that you’ve taken a different approach to the others,” he said, his gravelly voice was deep with a hint of an accent. It did things to me no voice has ever done before.

Still, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was barely breathing.

“Thank you,” my own voice came out croaky like I’d been singing for ten hours at a Metallica concert.

“You have an incredible skill for capturing the human body.”

“Thank you,” I said again, this time my voice breaking like I was a twelve-year-old boy.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“You’re welcome on both accounts.” This time, I could hear the amusement in his voice. Surprisingly my shoulders began to relax the longer he was there. Building enough courage, I lowered my graphite stick and took a step to the side. His hands came to rest on me, one on my waist, the other on my forearm.

“Watch your step,” he warned gently.

I paused and watched what happened next in sheer horror, albeit a little turned on.

Leo bent at the waist and leaned forward moving to retrieve a renegade charcoal stick I had missed during collection. I turned, performing a double take at Marge. She and her easel were stationed behind me. With eyes as wide as saucers and mouth gaping open like goldfish, the poor woman looked caught in a hypnotic trance. Subtly, I waved my hand to gain her attention but she didn’t take the bait. She didn’t have eyes for me. Instead, they were glued to the precarious sight Leo was offering from bending over.