34. Chase
34
CHASE
T he parking lot at Jokers was nearly empty. The new kid Wanda had hired was on his way out. I lifted two fingers off the top of my steering wheel as we passed each other at the entrance. It was nearing two in the morning, so Bridget probably gave him the green light to go home when his side work was done. Bridget would be counting the till and putting the deposit bag in the safe.
I locked my unmarked car as I crossed the pothole-riddled lot. I could see her through the half-lowered rattan shades. Bridget glowed under the burn of the blue beer sign above the liquor shelf. The neon painted her with an ethereal aura.
She zipped the bank deposit bag and disappeared into the office. I crept through the shitty screen door, perching it back against the doorframe as I slipped inside. One of these days, I was gonna get around to replacing the damn thing. It was a miracle the place hadn’t been robbed.
Then again, criminals were probably more afraid of Wanda and the rumored sawed-off shotgun she kept hidden than the police.
Bridget came back around the corner carrying a case of liquor bottles. She jumped when I let my shoe squeak against a floorboard, making myself known.
“My goodness!” she laughed, pressing her hand over her heart. “You nearly scared me to death, baby!”
That red lace bra peeked out of the neckline of her Jokers tank top. This morning I watched her clip it, twist it, and flip it, and knew that tonight was the night.
Bridget nearly shut down on me when we had our heart to heart about what she wanted in bed. It was just one more reason on the mountain of justification I had for killing Kingsley.
It took a little coaxing after our bathroom sink sex, but the conversation that followed about fantasies, proclivities, and boundaries was eye-opening.
If someone says consent isn’t sexy, they’re a prick. Hearing my girl tell me—in explicit detail—what she wanted done to her was some effective fucking foreplay.
And now I was going to make good on my promise and blow her goddamn mind.
“You about done for the night?” I asked as I rested my forearms on the edge of the bar. My truck was the only one left in the lot. Hopefully, she was alone.
Although, the thrill of getting caught was an aphrodisiac in itself.
“Yeah, I was just restocking some of the bottles before I lock up.”
“Mind if I come behind the bar?” For years I had respected that boundary—the two feet of solid oak that separated me from the woman of my dreams. But not anymore. Bridget McGrath was mine .
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, none the wiser, as she swapped an empty bottle of tequila for a new one. She cracked the top and dropped it in the trash before grabbing a pour spout and fitting it in the neck.
I walked around the end of the U-shaped bar and took it in: the bar well where she spent her days. Bridget had probably walked miles across the rubber matted floors.
Her back was to me as she stretched up on her toes to grab a top-shelf bottle of whiskey. I took advantage, wedging one knee between her legs and bracing my other foot outside of hers. I shackled her hips with my hands. The heels of her cowboy boots hit the floor. Bridget clutched the bottle to her chest like a life preserver.
“Hands on your head,” I growled in her ear. I pulled my handcuffs off my belt. She gasped at the metallic click as they opened. “Do as you’re told,” I said as I took the whiskey from her.
Slowly, Bridget raised her arms and settled her hands on top of her head. In a practiced, fluid motion, I had the cuffs around her wrists and locked them with a click .
“Are you ready for more?” I asked as I lowered her hands to rest in front of her.
She peered at me out of the corner of her eye. A coy smile played at the corner of her lips. “Aren’t you supposed to handcuff someone behind their back?”
I punished her by threading my fingers through the back of her hair and giving it a firm tug. She groaned in pleasure as goosebumps rippled across her skin.
Her breasts nearly spilled out of the front of her tank top as her breathing deepened. “Not for what I’m about to do to you, naughty girl.” I leaned forward and nipped at her earlobe. “Do you remember what we talked about? ”
Bridget groaned as I slid my palm up the flat of her stomach and cupped her breast.
“Use your words, darlin’.”
“I remember,” she rasped.
I tugged the front of her tank down, exposing another inch of red lace. “You tell me to stop or say no, and everything stops.”
Bridget nodded. I could feel her hummingbird heartbeat pounding away. She was ready, and I had faith that if I was pushing her too far, she’d tell me to back the hell off.
She turned to face me, wiggling her bound wrists in the cuffs to test the fit. Locking her eyes on mine, she turned her palm and squeezed the bulge in my jeans. “Take me.”
Every stifled emotion, every unsaid word, every withheld feeling came spilling forth in a tidal wave. I hooked an arm between her thighs and one around her shoulders and tossed her onto the bar. Bridget’s head hit the oak with a thud.
“Good,” she whispered.
A smile flickered on my mouth. “Good job, beautiful. That’s what I want to hear from you. That I’m making you feel good.”
She preened under the praise, but it was quickly replaced by eyes the size of dinner plates when I pulled my pocket knife out and opened it with a quick flick.
I pressed the razor-sharp tip against the pout of her lower lip, relishing the staccato breath she sucked in. “Don’t. Move. A muscle.”
Dragging the flat of the knife blade down her chin, then down the middle of her collarbone caused the tension to reach critical. I pressed the tip against her skin, leaving her with a light scratch as I slowly ran it down the valley of her breasts. I fisted the side of her tank top, pulling the fabric taut. I poised the knife at the top of the neckline, slicing straight through the shirt until the blade broke free as the hem tore in two .
The tank top fluttered to her sides, exposing her lace-covered tits. I closed my pocket knife and slid it back into my jeans. “Look at you,” I pointed to the mirror above the bar that let Bridget keep her eyes on the patrons when her back was turned. “So beautiful. And all mine.” I grabbed her bound wrists and raised them to lay over her head. She arched her back in return, pushing her breasts toward me and tipping her knees open.
I grabbed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey and flicked the cap off. “Add this to my tab,” I said before letting a splash of amber liquor fall into the valley of her breasts. I nuzzled my chin between their warmth and drank from her skin.
Bridget cried out as I wedged the bottle between the apex of her denim-covered thighs while I teased her nipple with my fingers. I reached beneath her bowed spine and found the clasp of her bra. With a little effort, I freed her tits and watched as they spilled out of the red lace. I pulled the bra up to her cuffed wrists and left it there for safekeeping.
It was my favorite one of hers, after all.
“I’m still thirsty, darlin’,” I said as I splashed whiskey across her nipples. “And the only thing that can quench that thirst is you.”
I pulled one of her rosy nipples into my mouth, sucking the liquid off before teasing her with a sharp bite. I fondled her breast as I moved my mouth to the other one and gave it the same treatment.
Rivulets of liquor ran down the line of her abs and filled her navel. I swirled my tongue in the depression and drank her in like a shot.
Bridget was more intoxicating than whiskey. Always had been, always would be.
“Chase,” she whimpered. “I need you.”
Four little words I had been craving for decades. I wanted the sound of my name on her lips to be the one I remembered on my deathbed.
She was my damnation and my saving grace.
“Soon, darlin’. I’m not done with you yet.”
Bridget relaxed, moaning and undulating her hips against the bar as I feasted on her body. My cock threatened to claw its way out of my fly, but I was just getting started.
I licked her clean, sparing no drop of whiskey. The taste of her was better than anything she could have poured.
“Open,” I said, pressing the edge of the bottle to her mouth. There was barely a sip left, but I wanted to watch her wrap those pretty pink lips around the bottle. They’d be so much wider when they were around my cock. She did as I asked, and I emptied the last of the whiskey into her mouth.
I tossed the bottle in the bin of empties. Glass hit glass with a shatter as I hauled her off the bar. Bridget let out a little squeak of surprise as I pulled her into my arms and took her lips in mine.
It wasn’t just two people kissing. We were soulmates, sharing the deepest parts of ourselves with each other. Trusting. Giving. Taking. Protecting. Loving.
“What am I going to find when I drop your jeans to your ankles and slide my fingers into those red panties?” I asked as I pulled away, giving Bridget a chance to catch her breath. I popped open the button to her jeans and trailed my fingertip across the red silk hiding beneath. “You little devil. Teasing me this morning when you put these on, then running out the door before I could get my hands on you.”
Before she could answer, I threw her over my shoulder, hauled her out from behind the bar, and bent her over the pool table. Her perky nipples brushed the green felt as I nuzzled the bulge in my pants against the crease of her ass. “Get on your toes. I want that ass nice and high. ”
“Yes,” she said in a feathery rasp, popping up onto her tiptoes. Bridget teased me, swaying her hips back and forth, working my erection until I was on a hair-trigger.
The waist of her jeans wrapped dangerously low around her hips. She looked like every one of my early 2000s fantasies come true.
I tugged the denim down to her knees and took in the view. My girl was handcuffed and bent over a pool table under the dim glow of the warm lights. A swatch of red lace disappeared into the cleft of her ass. The smile on her face was unshakable.
I tugged her racy thong down and slid my hand up the curve of her ass. She was a goddamn luxury. Every part of her was flawless. I unzipped my fly and freed my cock, using the head to tease her slick folds. Bridget let out a guttural groan, arching her back to seek more.
My hand came down on her ass with a resounding smack. “Use your words. Are you ready for more?”
“Please,” she whimpered. “More. Need more. Need you. Your cock. Please?—”
“Keep going,” I said, then peppered her ass with three hard swats in quick succession. Her creamy skin pinked up immediately. I massaged the spot to soothe the sting. “Tell me how good it feels.”
“So. Fucking. Good,” she keened as I fondled her ass. I was a man obsessed. She was my addiction. One I never wanted to get over. Bridget wiggled her ass and, on a breath, begged, “Again.”
I didn’t want to push her too far, but I knew that I had to trust her to set her own boundaries. And I really liked hearing her beg for it.
I spanked her twice, then lowered my lips to the shell of her ear. “That’s for all the times I would come in here, and you would lean over the bar and tease me with those beautiful tits.” Smack. “You knew what you were doing every damn time.” Smack. “I could look, but I couldn’t touch.” Smack. “Isn’t that right, beautiful?”
Bridget cried out in ecstasy, grinding her hips against the edge of the pool table for the slightest bit of relief.
“Nuh-uh,” I said, cupping her sex, stalling the release she was so desperately chasing. “If you’re a good girl and answer me, I’ll give you a reward.” I squeezed my palm around the outside of her pussy. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’ll be going home with a bright red ass and an unsatisfied pussy.”
I kicked her legs further apart and gave her wet pussy three quick smacks.
Bridget keened as I pinched her clit and held the pressure, stalling her pleasure. “Yes!” she cried. “It… It was all for you. Always you. Only you!” She squeezed her eyes shut as tears pricked the corners. “I wanted you to want me. You made me so jealous anytime I saw you dancing with another woman. I hated it!”
I dropped to my knees behind her and licked every crease of her decadent little cunt, lapping a long line from her clit to the bottom curve of her cheek. I rose back to my feet and dipped a finger into her wetness, coating it as I slowly stroked her G-spot. She rewarded me with little flutters from her inner muscles. I withdrew my finger and replaced it with my cock.
“Deep breath,” I said as I parted her cheeks and coated her hidden pucker with her own wetness. I thrust my cock deep into her pussy as I tested her, pressing my fingertip against the little rosette. “You just keep breathing, and I’m gonna make you feel so good, darlin’. I need you to trust me.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No trepidation. No second thoughts. No fear. Just yes.
Bridget screamed as I snapped my hips, driving my cock into her fast and hard while I breached her ass with my slick finger and gave her shallow pumps. I massaged her clit with my free hand, feeling the slight tremors ramp-up to full-body quakes.
“As soon as you feel it, I want you to come,” I grunted as I pounded into her slick pussy. Her ass was clenched around the base of my finger. Her fists pounded against the green felt. My thrusts into her core were heightened by the pulls of the finger I had buried in her ass. “Give me what I want.”
All she could do was nod. Her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth gaping open as she managed shallow breaths. Her nipples were pebbled, teased by the rough pool table felt.
I bottomed out with every thrust, her tight pussy squeezing the life out of my dick. “You’re doing so good, beautiful,” I growled in her ear as I strummed her clit. “So good.”
“Chase—” she cried, body seizing around me. “I?—”
Bridget didn’t have to say it. She couldn’t get the words out. I felt her orgasm rushing in. It slammed into her with the force of a tsunami, obliterating anything in its path.
Before she even stopped coming, I spun her, ripped her out of her jeans and boots, and had her back against the empty dartboard. The target was hung from a peg a few feet above her head.
“Arms up,” I barked. The metal handcuffs around her wrists jingled together as she did as she was told. The links between the cuffs fit snugly over the top of the peg. I hiked her legs up to wrap around my waist, pinning her back against the dartboard. Her pussy was dripping wet as I slid my cock back inside.
“You with me?” I grunted as I pounded into her. The board rattled behind her. The wood-paneled walls shook. The neon signs all around pulsed and buzzed as I fucked her.
The dartboard clattered against the wall with each powerful thrust. I was fucking her like a wrecking ball, prepared to obliterate the whole damn bar just to make her feel good. Bridget tugged against the cuffs, fighting the restraint as I pulled her nipple into my mouth.
Her tits bounced. Her head ricocheted against the wall as I drove into her. I felt my own climax building at the base of my spine. I had been pushing it back, staving it off. Pleasuring her and, by proxy, pleasuring myself.
Seeing her come apart in my arms was more erotic than any of those novels she loved. This wasn’t fiction. It wasn’t a figment of my imagination. She was no longer the girl I dreamed of but couldn’t have. We were no longer a myth. This—us—was the real damn thing.
“I’m gonna come, and you’re coming with me.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered. “Not again.”
She could say that all she wanted, but I felt the way her pussy clamped around my dick like a vise. “You can and you will. Trust me to carry you, darlin’. Let me have it.”
Bridget hit her peak without warning and fell apart, straining against the cuffs as I pumped my release deep inside of her. I shuddered against her, dropping my forehead against hers.
“Goddamn, darlin’,” I laughed as I came down from my high. “That was fucking amazing.”
Quickly, I released her wrists from the handcuffs and peppered the angry red lines with kisses. Bridget curled into my chest as she crashed from the overdose of pleasure.
“You were so good,” I whispered as I wiped her thighs with a clean towel. I had Bridget sitting down in a chair, not trusting her legs to actually support her. I pressed my lips to her inner thigh. She edged her knees open a little more, so I leaned in and kissed her clit, flicking the little bundle of nerves with my tongue for good measure. “You took me so well.”
A lazy smile rolled across her lips. “I’d tell you how good it felt, but I don’t think I can do the words and the talking right now.” She let out a happy sigh. “Orgasm. Happy. Banana. Ferret. Waffles.” She giggled. “You’ve got me dick-drunk.”
I laughed as I tucked my dick back in my boxers and pulled my zipper up. “Always happy to oblige, ma’am.” I pulled at the torn edge of her tank top. It was more of a vest now. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask if you had something else to change into.”
Bridget looked down at the torn tank top. She had already clipped her bra back into place. Taking the two middle points, she tied them in a knot around the middle of her bra. It looked like a raunchy Jokers bikini top.
My dick throbbed at the sight. “Damn, darlin’. I think you just unlocked a new fantasy of mine.”
Bridget adjusted the fabric to cover the sides while leaving her heavy swells of cleavage on full display. “I think Wanda will really go for this.”
“You’re more than welcome to work like that. Just know I’ll be sitting across the bar every time you’re on the clock to put a beat down on anyone who looks at you.”
Bridget grabbed her jacket from the back and slipped it on, zipping it up only halfway just to fuck with me. “Well. Given that I don’t want you scaring off paying customers, maybe I’ll stick with the regular tanks and just tease you when I bend over the bar to say hi.” Bridget cut the lights and grabbed her bag as she practically skipped out the door. “Come on, handsome. I wanna take you home and give you a proper thank you for those orgasms.”