The waitress thumps my beer bottle down on the wood table next to my boot without asking for my order. She turns around and heads back to the bar without so much as a word. Reaching for my beer, I see a man walk through the door. His eyes instantly lock on mine, as if he knew I was going to be sitting right here.
The guy looks like a total badass but I’ve never seen him in here before, that’s for damn sure. Motherfucker is gorgeous. He’s not something any woman would soon forget. His jet-black hair is cropped short with just enough to grab onto if you needed. His features are clean cut but rough around the edges. He looks like he’s trying to be a suit-and-tie kind of guy, but deep down he’s really a t-shirt and muddy jeans kind of man. His nose has a slight bump, like it has been broken a time or two, though it adds to his sex appeal instead of detracting from it. His mouth is grim yet sensual, with straight white teeth and canines a bit longer than his front teeth. It makes me think he likes to bite, and my nipples tingle at the thought. He’s handsome, if you go for that sort of thing.
But what stands out about him most are his eyes. They’re the same gray metal on the scope of my Mini Hecate .338 Lapua Mag—one of my favorite rifles. I don’t play with it often, because the concussion of the weapon is so strong, my ears hurt after only a few shots. I wonder if this man could make my ears hurt after a night of him screaming my name.
His eyes slide over me, like he can see through my tight jeans and black tank. His appraisal is cocky and bold, like I’m his to stare at. The idea makes my pussy clench. It has definitely been too long if I’m getting off from just a look.
Pulling my eyes from his, I take a long drink of my beer. I’m not surprised moments later when he’s standing next to my table.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks
I tip my bottle back and take another long pull from it, showing him mine is still half full. A drink isn’t what I want from him, and hanging out at this table isn’t either.
“A shot then,” he offers. “The night is still young.”
“You don’t have to get me all liquored up to get me into bed,” I say, dropping my boot from the table and using it to push out the chair next to me, an invitation for him to sit down.
“And what is it you think I’m looking for?” he asks, sitting down into the chair. His gaze lands on my chest and slowly travels to my face. He’s a cocky bastard and not trying to hide it. Hopefully, for me, he has a reason to be.
Leaning forward, I give him a better view of my cleavage. While they may be a bitch to shoot with, they also have their advantages.
“You mean to tell me you didn’t come to this hole in the wall looking for some easy pussy?”
“Is that why you’re here?” His voice holds an edge to it, like the idea bothers him or some shit. Aren’t we here for the same thing? Or maybe he just doesn’t like forward women. If that’s the case, he needs to get out of that chair and make room for someone else.
I grab my beer and polish it off, and start to get up. “Forget it,” I say, intending to make my way to the bar. If he’s looking for a piece of ass that will play innocent, he’s going to have to get it from somewhere else. Maybe Dean, one of the regular bartenders, will be in tonight. He’s halfway decent in bed, doesn’t ask questions, and leaves the hotel room as soon as we’re done.
New Guy grabs my wrist, halting my departure. I try to snatch my arm from his grasp, but he holds me steady. He relaxes his grip when I stop trying to pull away, his thumb rubbing circles on my wrist in slow, sensual motions. I could free my wrist now, but I know it would be useless. Strength was never my strong suit. I’m quick, quiet, and always two steps ahead of my opponent. It’s the only way to be when you don’t have brute force on your side.
“I’m not playing games with you,” I say, agitated that I like his lazy ministrations. I can imagine him doing this to my clit. He can probably feel my heartbeat speeding up as I think about it.
“No games,” he says, rising to his feet, pulling me towards the back of the bar. His strong grip leads me to the rear hallway. He checks every door handle we pass, trying to find an unlocked one. When the last door pops open, he hauls me inside. He presses my spine against the closed door, his firm, masculine body pressing into me. I start to protest, but am cut off when his mouth covers mine.
His insistent erection feels rigid against my stomach. His tongue pushes into my mouth. He grabs both of my wrists and locks them into one of his hands, pinning them above my head. He holds me against the door with his hand and his body, but I could break free if I really wanted to.
I should stop him, but his dominance is intoxicating and so very different than what I normally go for. The sudden attraction I feel for him is odd. Unwanted. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his erection against me. Pulling back as if he needs oxygen, he lifts his mouth from mine. “I’ve wanted to taste you from the moment I first saw you.”
My eyes pop open at his words. His intense gaze holds me hostage.
“Looks like you didn’t have to wait too long then, did you?” I reply, but a strange look crosses his face. It’s gone so quick, I’m not sure it was there. “And FYI, I don’t kiss on the mouth. So if you want to taste me you’ll have to do it somewhere else,” I add, flashing a wicked grin. “Call it a test. You make me cum with your mouth and I’ll let you take me to the hotel next door. If you can’t make me cum, then I go back out to the bar and find someone who can.”