1. June #2
A loud group of college-aged guys walk in and steal everyone’s attention.
“Gonna need to see some IDs,” Jack spits out the second they get close enough.
The guys laugh, slapping each other and making the simple task much more drawn out and dramatic than it needs to be. Two of them drop their wallets, burst into laughter, and bang their heads together when they both reach down at the same time.
It’s hard to tell whether they’re all drunk or just really fucking stupid.
I let out a sigh, waiting for them to get the show on the road.
“It’s my buddy’s twenty-first,” one of the guys tells us. He grabs the birthday boy on the shoulder and shakes him. “A round of shots for the bar on me.”
This seems to shift everyone from being annoyed to intrigued by the newcomers. Everyone loves free booze. Well, everyone except you know who.
Mister tall-dark-and-handsome doesn’t give so much as a blip of interest their way. All the while, most of the other patrons crowd around and wait for their hand-out to be served.
I slip behind the bar, doing my best to help Jack and Sarah maintain order to the newly introduced chaos erupting around us. I count the heads that appear, reaching under and pulling out glasses to go with each one.
“Cash or card?” Jack asks the guy standing in front of him.
The dude pulls out his wallet and flashes a few hundred-dollar bills. “I’m good for it, don’t worry.”
The tension in Jack’s shoulders loosens and he steps out of the way to let me and Sarah do our thing.
I extend a shot toward the obnoxious drunk who called me sweetheart.
Somehow, probably with the liquid courage, he has the audacity to grab onto my hand and hold it in place. He forces me to look at him, his eyes red and glassy. “Do one with me.”
“I’ll pass. I don’t drink on the job.” It’s everything I can do to not deck him right here, right now. But I can’t exactly afford to get fired for punching a customer.
One of the wild younger guys latches onto the drunk dude’s shoulders, stealing his focus from me, resulting in him loosening his grip enough for me to pull away.
“Come on man, join us,” the birthday boy says.
The drunk guy eyes me but decides to go along with the fun, probably realizing I’m not worth the trouble.
I catch a glimpse of one of the group members approaching the loner mystery man, a second later he raises his hands and backs away like he might actually be afraid of him. I smirk at the endless possibilities of what could have been said.
Jack leans down and whispers into my ear. "Hey, when they settle down, can you service the ladies' room? The machine is out of plugs."
I shake my head and elbow him gently. “Tampons, Jack, they’re called tampons.”
After a few noisy minutes of celebrating, everyone floats back to their respective booths and tables and the guys find a corner of their own.
I make quick work of helping Sarah clean up the giant mess that was made from the sloshing of booze all over the countertop. Once I’m confident she’s got everything under control, I pop around the side and head toward the storage closet.
I fumble around for far too long to find the box of plugs, tucked on the highest shelf where I can barely reach. I stand on my tiptoes and use a random pencil to drag the thing closer for me to grab.
“Let me get that for you.”
My skin crawls at hearing the drunk guy’s voice, to feel his breath so very close to the back of my neck.
The volume to the jukebox gets turned up, and a small crowd forms around the make-shift dance floor.
“I’ve got it.” I snatch them off the ledge and shut the door. I stroll away from him, turning down the dimly lit hallway where the bathrooms are located, hoping for the millionth time that he’ll get the hint and leave me alone.
Guys like him are a bit dull though, and no matter how many “no thanks” vibes you put out, they don’t fucking get it.
I disregard his words and go straight to the women’s restroom in a desperate attempt to get the hell away from him.
Only, a second later, he follows me inside, twisting the lock and positioning his body in the way to block the exit.
“Listen, if you needed a tampon, you could have just asked.” I attempt to make light of the situation, unsure of which direction he’s going to take things.
He steps forward, giving me a better look at his build. He's wide, but in an I go to the gym way too much kind of way. The steroid-induced testosterone flowing off him with his arrogance. "I'd fuck you on your period, baby."
“Um, no thanks.”
“Grant, you can call me Grant.” The words slip off his tongue lazily.
“Grant.” I crack open the box and try to go back to my job. “I’m all for gender fluidity, but I’m not sure you should be in the women's restroom.”
Grant reaches over and latches onto my arm, pulling me toward him. “I’m all man, baby.” He jerks me toward his groin and tries to place my hand on him.
“Get your fucking grimy hands off me.” I jerk my arm to no avail.
His grip tightens and he bores his hazy stare into me. The stench of booze pours out of him as his words slur together. “You know you want it.”
I swallow and try to figure a way out of this.
Grant takes his free hand and runs his fingers up my thigh, tracing under the hem of my skirt. “You wouldn’t dress like this if you didn’t.”
If only he knew I dress like this for his money, not his repulsive cock.
The door rattles, a knock following. Sarah must be coming to check in and see what’s taking me so long. But her voice doesn’t follow to ask if everything is okay.
Grant brings his hand up to my face and steps closer. “Such porcelain skin.” He trails my bottom lip. “And a fuckable mouth.”
It was probably the worst thing I could think of doing, but the second he brought his digit near me, I knew I had to do something. And that’s why I latch my jaw around his finger and bite down as hard as I can, using my hand to punch him in the throat, too.
At the same fucking time, the door to the bathroom flies open with force, a tall man appearing from the shadows. He turns toward me and Grant, his eyes focusing on me for only a second before stalking forward, grabbing Grant by the collar and away from me.
He doesn’t say a word, he just throws Grant across the room and into the door, slamming it back shut.
I stand there, frozen in place, watching this completely cryptic man toss this semi-buff dude around like a ragdoll.
Grant groans. “Ah, come on man, I’ll share her. We can take turns.” He brings himself to his feet. “I’m sure her pussy is…”
But my savior doesn’t allow him to finish. Instead, he slides his large hand around Grant’s throat, tugging him toward him. His other hand forms a fist, and within a second, it lands across Grant’s stupid fucking face.
Over and over and over again.
So many times that blood ricochets with every punch. Until he finally stops and lets Grant’s limp body drop to the dirty bathroom floor.
Slowly, he turns toward me, red covering his face and somehow making him look sexier than he ever has.
I finally step away from the wall, careful not to move too quickly. Not because I’m afraid, but because I don’t want to startle him.
His dark gaze narrows, as if he’s trying to read my mind, figure out what the fuck I must be thinking after watching him beat the shit out of this stranger who tried to force himself on me.
The only thing I'm certain of is that I want this man standing in front of me.
I have from the moment he stepped foot in this bar weeks ago.
So, I do what I do any time I see something I want, I take it.
And unlike the man lying here beaten senseless, I only force myself on willing participants. The look in this mystery man’s eyes is enough to tell me exactly what I need to know.
I bridge the gap, reaching down and taking his hand in mine, studying his bloodied and swollen knuckles, and then looking up at his stern face.
I should be scared. I know I should. This is one of those deer walking into the lion’s den kind of moments, but no matter how dangerous and terrifying this man in front of me is, I feel it in my gut that he wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless I wanted him to. And damn do I want him to.
His lips part, like he's going to say something, probably a warning to stay away, that I'm safer that way, but I've never been the kind of girl to stray from a little danger, especially when it's this good-looking.
Instead of letting him talk his way out of this, I stand taller, reaching around his neck and dragging him down to press his lips onto mine, completely disregarding his blood-soaked face.
The second our mouths touch, his resolve completely shatters, his body melting into mine like we’ve done this dance a million times before.
His palm spreads across my back, gripping me closer to him, our tongues gliding feverishly against each other, telling me that he might need this release as badly as I do. A second later, he wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me from the ground and pulling me to his body.
I wrap my legs around his strong torso, and run my fingers along his neck, and into his once well-kept hair.
His hands grasp my ass, which is practically out by now considering I’m wearing a short skirt.
He slams me against the wall, and I use the extra support to reach down and glide my hand over his growing erection.
He stifles a moan against my lips, pulling away and breathing heavily. “We can’t.”
I tighten my grip around his cock and stare at him. The red splatter on his cheeks only makes his dark eyes even darker. “Do you want to?”
His jaw clenches and he sighs. “Yes.”
“Then fuck me.” I give him the smallest window to back out, but he surprises me by forcing his lips onto mine and greedily kissing me.
“What about a…”
Before he can continue, I cut him off with my mouth on his.
I dig into my pocket, pulling out the handy-dandy condom I keep in case of emergencies like this. Never know when you’ll want to bone down, and getting knocked up is not something on my to-do list.