I giggle loudly, my body shaking as I stare at his indignant expression. My eyes roll almost back into my head and I find this just as funny, and keep laughing until the rest of the boys are chuckling as well, and Fangy just gives them death stares. I swing my head up to look at him, and it feels like all the liquidy aspects in it are sliding around like in a cartoon when a boat rocks. “You do realize that half my age is… ummm...like 11, right?”

He gives me a tiny shove and I stumble towards Loth, who grins and catches me. “You know, pet, if you drink anymore, we might be able to hear it go slosh inside you when you move.”

I look at him wide eyed, trying to figure how the hell he knew that’s what I’d just been thinking about. He chuckles again, and helps me right myself, then goes to shoot the next shot. I cock my head to side, watching the balls spin about the table, entranced.

One of my sorority sisters comes flying up and we have an excited exchange of giggles, squeals and shrieks as we talk about the bartender she’s hitting on, since I know him. She winks at the boys with me, and they give her brilliant grins until she turns to me, when I know they’re rolling their eyes. They hate girls like Alison, who’s as cutesy and girly as you can be. Her idea of kinky sex involves her on top, and the fact that I hang out with these girls amuses the bejesus out of the members of my household.

She tugs on my arm to lead me over to where she’s planning on ordering me a drink (yeah cause I surely need another fuckin drink with the way I’m walking and the way my buddy’s pouring) so she can flirt with Chris while he makes it. I blow a kiss at the boys who groan when they see where I’m headed. Raj simply shakes his head at me, and I know he’s less worried about me throwing up than being so drunk I can’t play suck suck goose tonight. I smile, hoping the look on my face conveys that I’m pondering playing it right now, and if he’s good, maybe on one of those couches in the lounge area.

So Alison drags me away from the sea of aroused looks my smile has gotten me to the bar, where my bright eyes make Chris chuckle, and he starts pouring me another drink, this one heavier than the last. Alison orders herself a beer, primping and giggling the whole time. In my head, I want to tell her just to come out with it; since I know Chris well enough that I’ve heard about the hardware he keeps at his place. He’s not gonna want Miss Vanilla Shake here; he’s gonna want the chocolate sundae with whipped cream and nuts.

I lean over to whisper something to this effect into Alison’s ear when a guy I know from a class at school taps me on the shoulder and asks me to dance. Chris raises a brow, his head cocking back to the buys who are busy shooting pool and trying to pretend not to be watching every move I make. I give him a dirty look, and turn back to the cute lil preppie, deciding I feel like being quite ornery, taking his hand and moving to the dance floor near where most of my sisters are draped over guys for a slow dance. The song changes and I hear the driving rhythms of a faster song and the alcohol I’ve consumed leads me to dance a bit more erotically than I had intended. I’m bumping and grinding against the preppie, and the girls are laughing and hooting nearby. I can’t help but react to the crowd and out of nowhere, I’m sandwiched in a big train of people who are pressed together like some bad rap video.

I’m still trying to figure out how I got there when I feel a hand yank me out of the miasma of people, pulling me towards the back of the club, where it’s dark. I blink, trying to comprehend what’s going on, and a pair of strong arms encircles my waist, backing me against a wall. From the way his lips move on my neck, I know it’s my bad boy, and I tug on the safety pins in his ears playfully.

“T, what are you doing?” I gasp as he bites my earlobe.

His wicked grin shines even in the darkness and I find myself shivering. “Just culling you from the herd, Nancy,” he replies, his hands roving over my body uncaring of how drunk I am, or what I’ve been doing out on the dance floor. Brash as he is, T’s always pragmatic about such things.

I grin tipsily and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Yeah, well last time you hated it so much that you shagged me into the ground, so I think I’ll just keep using it,” he teases, grinding himself against me.

I’m about to retort when he slides his hands under my ass, pulling my legs up to his waist. His hands move over the silky material until they reach the hem and then they dive underneath, stroking my thighs slowly. At this point, I’m already so worked up, that I know I have to be leaking on the floor. The more alcohol I consume, the hornier I get, which just about every Spike shaped person I know seems to have figured out lately.

His jeans are rough against the bare skin of my thighs and his fingers travel up my thighs, stopping just short of touching me, and he looks up at me, an evil twinkle in his eyes. I growl softly, arching my pelvis up to his eagerly. His hands move quickly and I can see the look of surprise on his face as he not only registers that I’m not wearing underwear, and I’ve shaved.

The snarl of desire he releases shakes me to my bones. He kisses me hard and fast, and whispers near my ear, “Unfasten my jeans.”

I let out a small whimper, my hands trying to spring him as quickly as possible, but my slight intoxication makes the task take longer than necessary. By the time I get the buttons undone, I’m so raring to go that my legs are trembling in their locked position around his waist.

He positions himself and thrusts in hard, his mouth coming mine before I could scream my pleasure to the entire club and anyone within a good fifty mile radius. When he lifts his mouth, I’m breathing raggedly, taking in big gulps of air as I try not to yell or bite a hole in my lip while holding it in. I’m not sure what it is about T that sends me into overdrive, but when we fuck, we really fuck. And in this position, I am just waiting for it to become obvious to people that we’re back here just about cracking the plaster with our enthusiasm.

The look on his face says it all and I groan low and deep. One hand moves from my ass to my crotch, stroking the bare skin softly, since he knows that it’s so very sensitive and the contact alone is likely to make cream everywhere. I feel myself clench around him, and I try to stave it off, wanting this to last just a bit longer. The whole situation is turning me on so much that I can hardly stand it and I really want to come together.

He senses my withdrawal and quirks a safety pinned eyebrow at me. I grin wickedly, flexing and squeezing around him until he returns my groan and ups the ante with a thrumming growl. This throws both our bodies into a flurry of motion and we pant softly as we get closer and closer. His eyes turn and he scrapes his fangs over my bare shoulder and I grunt, falling over the edge into orgasm so fast I hardly even know it’s coming, much less that I am.

When I can finally lift my head out of the crook of his neck, I grin at him, still tipsy as hell and thoroughly sated. He grins back, starting to tuck himself back in and letting me slide down to the floor slowly. He takes me hand, and after he’s sure I can walk still, leads me over to the bar, which is far enough away from where we were that I don’t have to find a new club to frequent.

“She’ll have a large ice water and a Grey Goose martini with black olives,” he says, giving Chris a manly wink.

A voice behind me calls out, “Oi. Make that a double. This lil lady has a lot more dancing to do tonight.”

I turn and see Raj slapping money down on the bar, a devilish look on his face. My eyes search the room and I see the other bots and clones smirking, holding up small wads of cash. My eyes widen and I look at T who has the biggest shit eating grin I’ve ever seen.

Chris leans in and whispers, “Sister, I think you may be in trouble.”

The look on T’s face is priceless as he resists the urge to comment, and he leaves me to Raj, who’s chuckling.

I whisper back, “Too late,” and turn on my heel, heading for the corner with a definite swing to my step.