Kent succeeds, though – not a drop of tequila gets away from him. Kent glares up at me when he’s finish and, I think in his idea of punishment, drags his tongue in a long, thick lick from my belly button halfway up my stomach. “What the hell were you thinking, Fay,” he growls.
“I don’t know,” I say, still grinning at him. “I saw it on MTV once when I was a kid. I always wanted to try it.”
“Well don’t do it again,” he commands, bringing his face level with mine and then grabbing the bottle of tequila out of my hands.
“Hey!” I shout, grabbing for it, but he pulls away from me and raises the bottle to his lips, taking a long drink. Kent shakes his head as he swallows, wincing at the burn of the liquor before handing it back to me.
“If we’re going to be classless, Fay,” he says, turning
