Last Call

“You know the door’s locked, right?”

I didn’t look up from wiping down the bar. “Yeah, I know. So are the windows. Why, you expecting someone?”

Maya slid off the stool and walked around the counter, her heels clicking on the hardwood. She was the last one left, a regular who always stayed until the lights came up. Tonight she wore a red dress that hugged every curve like it had somewhere to be. I’d been watching her all night, the way she laughed, the way she bit her lip when she ordered her third Negroni.

“Just checking,” she said, stopping close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something floral, with a bite underneath. “You’ve been staring at me for three hours, Leo. I figured I should make it easier for you.”

My hand stilled on the glass. “That obvious?”

“Painfully.” She reached out and took the rag from my fingers, tossing it into the sink. “The bar’s closed. The music’s off. It’s just us now.”

I should have said something smooth. Instead I just looked at her, at the way her chest rose and fell, at the challenge in her dark eyes. She was spoiled, I knew that much. Came in with designer bags and a diamond on her finger that probably cost more than my car. But right now, she wasn’t wearing the ring.

“You’re trouble,” I said.

“You have no idea.”

She stepped closer, and I let my hands find her hips. The fabric was thin, silky. I could feel the heat of her skin through it. She tilted her chin up, and I kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. She bit my lower lip, tugged, and I groaned against her mouth. My hands slid down, gripping her ass through the dress, and she gasped into my throat.

“Careful,” she whispered. “I bruise easy.”

“I’ll be careful then.”

I spun her around and bent her over the bar. She laughed, breathless, then moaned as I bunched the hem of her dress up around her waist. No underwear. Of course.

“Look at you,” I muttered, running a thumb along her slit. She was already wet, slick and hot. “You came here like this on purpose.”

“I came here for you.” She pushed her ass back against my hand. “Stop teasing.”

I didn’t. I circled her clit slowly, watching her fingers grip the edge of the counter. She was trembling, trying to press back harder, but I kept the pace maddening and slow.

“Please,” she breathed.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me. Please.”

I unzipped my jeans. My cock was hard, aching, and when I lined up at her entrance, she whined. I pushed in an inch, then pulled back.

“Leo.”

“Say it again.”

“Please fuck me.”

I slammed into her. She cried out, and I clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling her lips move against my palm. The bar was empty, but the acoustics were killer — every wet sound, every choked moan, echoed off the walls. I pulled out and drove back in, deeper this time, and she whimpered into my hand.

“Quiet,” I said. “You don’t want the whole street to hear how much of a slut you are, do you?”

She shook her head, but her ass pushed back harder. I set a rhythm, hard and deep, my hips slapping against her. Her pussy gripped me like a fist, all that spoiled little heat squeezing and releasing, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming right there.

I pulled out and turned her around. Her face was flushed, lips swollen, and she looked up at me with those dark, hungry eyes.

“On your knees,” I said.

She kneeled, and I thought she’d take me in her mouth, but instead she just looked up, waiting. I grabbed her hair, tilted her head back.

“You want it?”

“Yes.”

I guided my cock to her lips and she opened. She took me deep, all the way to the back of her throat, and I held her there, feeling her gag and swallow around me. It was filthy, the wet sounds filling the quiet room, and I let her set the pace. She was good, too good, bobbing her head with a desperate hunger that made my knees weak.

I pulled her off before I came.

“Not yet,” I said, my voice ragged.

I lifted her onto the bar, spread her legs, and pushed inside her again. She wrapped her legs around my waist, heels digging into my ass, and I fucked her slow and deep. Her head fell back, and I found her clit with my thumb, rubbing in circles as I moved inside her.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I watched her face, the way her mouth fell open, the way her eyes rolled back. She came with a shuddering gasp, her whole body trembling around me, and I kept going, chasing my own release.

“Where do you want it?” I asked.

“Inside. Fill me up.”

I came hard, buried deep, my cock pulsing inside her. She held me tight, whispering my name, and I felt her squeeze around me again.

When it was over, I stayed inside her for a long moment, breathing her in. She ran her fingers through my hair.

“You’re gonna be trouble,” she said softly.

“You started it.”

She smiled, lazy and satisfied. “I know.”

I pulled out slowly, and she winced, a small, pleased sound. I helped her off the bar, and she swayed, laughing.

“I need a drink,” she said.

“Bar’s closed.”

“Make an exception.”

I poured us both a whiskey, neat, and we leaned against the counter, shoulders touching. The restaurant was dark and silent around us, the only light from the street outside.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” I said.

“I know.” She swirled her glass. “I took it off before I came in.”

“Why?”

She looked at me, and for a second, the spoiled little rich girl was gone. She was just a woman, tired and wanting something real.

“Because I wanted to remember what it felt like to be wanted. Not wanted for what I can buy, or who I know. Just wanted.”

I set down my glass and turned to face her. “You don’t need a ring off to be wanted, Maya.”

“Maybe not.” She smiled, and it reached her eyes this time. “But it helps when the wanting feels like this.”

I kissed her again, slow and soft. She tasted like whiskey and salt.

“I have to go,” she said eventually.

“I know.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

She pulled her dress down, smoothed her hair, and walked to the door. At the threshold, she turned.

“Lock up behind me, Leo.”

CATEGORIES: [Spoiled girl, Restaurant, Just the Two of Us, Passionate Sex, Dominance]