I sat in my shadowed corner, quietly watching as he shamelessly flirted with the two cent waitress. She laughed making her double d fake jugs giggle in his face. He didn't even try to hide his enjoyment of it. The interaction intrigued me, having been hit on numerous times by timeless losers. But he was different, or more, I saw him different. He was rugged, with the army hair cut, 5'oclock shadow and leather jacket though with that look he seemed scared, and there was definitely a week spot in there. But the thing that had me all hot and bothered was the fact that he looked like he was a hell of a lay. My mind was reeling with things he could, and would, do to me.

Lucky I had dressed to impress tonight. Black faded jeans that hugged the curve of my butt. A low cut v-neck that had bite me written across the chest, and left a small gap of skin between it and my waist band, evidently showing off my Red dragon tattoo. I had my hair tied into a messy pony tail with a few strands hanging loose around my face. An even amount of red lipstick and mascara, topped off with matching, red, lacy underwear that showed through the pop of my shirt. I was rocking it tonight.

After downing the last of my vodka and lime (don't ask) I slid from my obscured corner and made my way across the bar. I walked past him purposely swaying my hips and lent against the bar sticking my hip out towards him. My neck tingled, telling me that he had noticed my entrance. Good. The waitress turned to me flicking her blonde extensions over her too wide shoulder

"What'll it be babe," She faked a pleased smile for my presence.

Yea right the bitch was fuming. Well too bad. I bit down on my bottom lip slowly, pretending to think. The guy beside me squirmed in his seat. This was too easy.

"Whiskey please, on the rocks," I played with the end of my long dark pony tail as she grabbed a cup and filled it with ice.

"That's a weird drink for a girl,"

I turned my head and smiled at him. He was straight forward, not at all shy, I liked that.

"Good job I'm not a girl then in it," I said chucking back the whole glass with one gulp.

He chuckled, the deep sound sent chills up my spine. I slid my glass across to Blondie as she punted and requested a refill. She begrudgingly obliged, as she did that I turned my profile to the guy beside me and lent forward just slightly, so that he could catch a glimpse of my cleavage. Not too much just enough to keep him wanting more. Just like he did with Blondie his eyes slid down my chest, lingering, then down the rest of my body and came up smiling.

"I'm Dean," He announced.

"Jazz," I answered taking the glass that was set in front of me and downing it.

Dean laughed again.

"What's funny?" I asked.

He pointed to the glass I had just slid across the counter again "you drink like a man,"

"Well" I said taking the glass again and gulping it back "I like my whiskey,"

Dean smirked "Next you're going to tell me you like playing with shot guns, eating ridiculously greasy food and driving fast cars,"

A smile slid across my lips as he spoke "I do," I hummed.

After a moment of him staring at me, he started feeling up my legs and arms; he even lifted up the bottom of my shirt exposing my belly button.

"What are you doing," I asked frowning at his surprisingly soft hands

"Checking that you're not a man," he plainly said still feeling around my waist.

I laughed lightly and leaned close to him pulling his hand further up my top to rest on the under wire of my bra.

"There are some things you just can't fake Dean," I purred, my mouth lingering close to his.

A sly smile crossed his lips and I gasped as he gripped my bra and used it to pull me against him. Our lips met and I sighed against their sweetness.