11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
R ose
I sashay between the tables at Salty's. My eyes dance across the room, landing on Braxton, who's in his usual spot in the corner booth, giving him the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on me.
"Can I get you another whiskey, sugar?" I ask, leaning over just enough to make sure Braxton gets a good view from across the room.
"Make it a double," the customer says, not taking his gaze off my chest.
"Comin' right up!" I chime, spinning on my heel. Each night for the past two weeks, I've played this little game. Flirting with the regulars, laughing a little too loud, touching a forearm here, flashing a smile there, all the while sneaking peeks at Braxton. And bless his heart, every time his jaw clenches just so, and I know it's working.
He's jealous alright. Honeybun would be proud of the trouble I'm stirring up.
I hustle back to the bar, my ponytail swaying behind me, and pour the customer his drink. I know my grouch watches every move, each step I take as I head back to deliver the double,
"Here ya go, darlin'," I say, delivering the order and sneaking a peek at the glowering man in the corner.
"Primrose, you’re stirrin' the pot, aren't ya?" Lila says when I go to turn in another order, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you're playing a dangerous game with that one."
"Who? Braxton?" I feign innocence, batting my eyes at her. But we both know better.
"Uh-huh. He has it bad for you," she says, nodding toward him. "He's so uptight, it's only a matter of time before he blows." Her words are laced with a mix of concern and amusement. She knows all about the tension brewing between us.
"Maybe that's what he needs," I muse, shrugging nonchalantly. "To let go a little."
"Or let go a lot," Lila laughs as she pulls a beer. “Just be careful, Rose. Men like him... when they blow, it ain't pretty.”
"Or maybe it'll be exactly what we both need," I whisper, more to myself than to her, a flush creeping up my cheeks at the thought.
"Girl, when he finally realizes what he's missing..." Lila shakes her head, leaving the sentence hanging as she moves to tend to another customer.
Maybe it's true, maybe I am playing with fire. But as I watch Braxton from across the room, every cell in my body tells me it’s worth the burn.
Minutes later, I'm delivering beers for a group of middle-aged men blowing off steam after a day of fishing. Their eyes are bold as they call me over. "Sweetheart, bring some of that Southern charm this way!" one yells, tipping his cap.
"Y'all behave," I tease, my drawl thick, while I deliver another round with a smile. But as I spin away, I feel a grip firmly clasp my upper arm, yanking me towards the shadowed stairwell. My breath catches in fear.
"Enough, Rose." The voice is gravel wrapped in velvet, unmistakably Braxton, and it sends shivers down my spine. Before I can summon a sassy retort, he's got me pinned against the wall, his body towering over me, hard against mine.
"Braxton!" I gasp, but it's not a protest. It's anticipation. "What are you… "
"Be quiet," he growls low, his breath hot on my neck, his hands grasp both of mine, pinning them above my head, "I've watched you bat those pretty eyes at every fucker who walks through that door. No more."
"Is that so?" I challenge, though the fluttering in my belly betrays how much I want him.
"Damn right," he asserts, and then his mouth crashes down on mine. It’s a kiss that stakes a claim, fierce and unyielding. One hand continues to pin mine as his other clasps my throat in ownership, igniting desires I didn’t know I had. I’ve been kissed by a gentle Braxton, but this Braxton is different. He’s more controlling.
And I’m down for it . Oh, holy mackerel. I'm drowning in the sensation, lost to the world.
He tears his mouth away to whisper in my ear. “Baby girl, you are mine,” he says in a fierce, lust-filled voice. “It may have taken me a bit to figure it out, but make no mistake … You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates his statement with a bite to the lobe of my ear. Goosebumps form from the gesture.
He bit me? I groan with my need for this man. Gah … I’m loving this animalistic Braxton that’s come out to play tonight.
“What makes you think I’m still interested?” I taunt him, feeling bratty, but arching my neck to allow him more access; my eyes closing in dreamy desire.
“Oh,” he says with a low, throaty laugh, “You’re interested alright because you know not one of those pricks or college frat boys you flirt with every night can satisfy you, Primrose.”
He presses his hard length against my stomach to make his point, and I realize I’m grinding my denim clad core against his thigh, my clit seeking relief for the need he’s created inside me. With a few growly words and his possessive touch, Braxton has made me melt.
And that pisses me off. Why does he have this power over me?
I feel his warmth leave me and I’m sliding off his thigh, my feet once again touching the floor. Braxton is kissing a trail down my neck, gliding his hands through my hair, tilting my head to the side so he can lick and suck on the sensitive spot where my neck and shoulder meet, surely leaving marks on my skin.
My hands free to roam, I reach for the hem of his shirt, wanting to feel his heat, feel his bare skin as I skim my hands across his rippled abs. He draws in air, letting me know I have the power to make him as breathless as he makes me. Feeling the soft hair trailing below his belt, I reach my slender hand inside, past the cotton of his briefs and grasp his hard, velvet erection.
I’ve never done such a thing, never been so bold, and I’m not sure what it is I’m doing, but he seems to enjoy it. I squeeze, grazing my thumb over the tip, feeling the moisture gathered there. Braxton is groaning, and I’m feeling heady from the power I have over him. So caught up in the moment, I sink to my knees, undoing his belt, and drawing his zipper down, exposing him to my gaze. Lingering, I’m wide-eyed and fascinated by his hard, long thickness. Never have I wanted to taste something so desperately. The need to taste him, to make him crazy with need is consuming me.
I lick the underside of him and run my tongue down the throbbing vein down to the root. I lightly suck on the smooth head, loving the salty taste of him
“Rose, what are you doing?” He asks, voice rough with desire. He’s caressing the top of my head and grasping my ponytail. I notice he doesn’t tell me to stop. Instead, he seems to be more than okay with my exploration. “Do you like the idea someone could walk in on us? See you sucking my cock like the naughty girl you are?”
Nodding my head, I realize the idea of getting caught in the darkened stairwell is a turn on. Once again, I’m surprised at the things I’m learning about myself and my needs.
I’ll happily play his naughty school girl.
Braxton allows me to alternate between licking him and sucking the head of his length. I’m having to grasp his muscled thighs for balance.
He throws his head back, tightening his grasp on my head and growling, “I’m going to come down your throat, baby girl. Be ready.”
Once again, I nod, eagerly swallowing as he grunts and thrusts deep, holding my head steady in his grasp.
"Uh... excuse me, where's the …"
The intrusion is like a bucket of ice water. A bleary-eyed drunk stumbles upon us, his face flushed from the alcohol.
"Get lost," Braxton snarls, shielding me from the stranger’s gaze, his eyes blazing.
"Sorry, sorry," the man mumbles, scuttling away like a crab caught in high tide.
But the spell is broken, and Braxton steps back as he helps me up and straightens his jeans. He rakes a hand through his hair.
"Go back to your customers, Rose," he says, voice rough, but there’s a crack in his armor I’ve never seen before.
"Braxton…," I start, but he places a finger to my swollen lips. “Shhh …," he murmurs, kissing my temple. "We’ll talk about this. You got to go back to work now. Lila will miss you.”
I flush with embarrassment because no doubt Lila will know what we’ve been up to when I go back to the bar.
How am I supposed to work like this? My panties are so wet they are uncomfortable.
He slaps me on the ass as he turns me towards the door. “And quit all your damn flirting!”
"Good gravy," I murmur to myself, pressing a hand to my heart where it’s about to burst clean out of my chest. Lila’s gonna give me hell. My hair’s surely a rat’s nest, and I’m grinning like a fox in the henhouse.
I got to play every woman’s naughty school-girl fantasy in real life, and I may be more than a little in love with my “professor.” Who knew my grouchy neighbor had it in him?