Chapter 4 Brooklyn
FOUR
brOOKLYN
I knew I was tired, but was I actually so tired that my jaw nearly dropped when the handsome stranger walked into the bar? He shook his head when he took his helmet off, and I noticed his closely cropped dark brown hair and the way his blue eyes shone dangerously in the dim light of the bar.
I had always prided myself in not embarrassingly drooling over guys, but this one was a completely different ball game.
It was like he had stepped off a glossy front cover of Men’s Health magazine.
He was tall with a ripping broad chest. He was wearing a thin white cotton T-shirt, and even under his black leather jacket, I could see the way his muscles moved.
“You’re new,” he said, sitting down with a thump on one of the bar stools in front of me.
I forced myself to recover my voice, blinking furiously to make myself go back to normal.
His cheekbones were high and chiseled, and he had a perfectly square jaw with a light dusting of a late-night shadow.
I caught the glimmer of the metal tags that hung from the chain around his neck.
“I’m Brooklyn,” I said and realized that was not what he asked. He grinned, and the corners of his lips stretched as he placed his helmet on the counter beside me.
“And new,” I added quickly, and he watched my every movement from under heavy lidded eyes. His gaze was piercing and yet he looked bored. I was giddy with squealing excitement inside, like a teenager who had just spotted a rock star.
“We’re closing up soon,” I said to him as he flipped over a glass beside him.
“Hit me with your best whisky,” he said instead, ignoring my statement. I gulped then got the bottle and poured into his glass. He drank it in one quick gulp and banged the glass down on the counter again.
“So, how new are you?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to avoid looking directly into his eyes.
“Couple of months,” I replied, even though I knew exactly how long it had been. I took up this job a week after I’d heard the news about Luke. Of course, this guy didn’t need to know about it.
“I’ve been away,” he said and placed a hand on the bottle I was still holding. Gently, he pried the bottle away from me and poured some more whisky into his glass. I watched him closely, the shape of his nose, the sharpness of his jaws…how powerful he looked.
“I have to close up soon,” I repeated myself, and he looked up at me again. His gaze was de-stabilizing, like he was shooting arrows at me or something. Just his stare was enough to tighten the knots in my belly, and I pressed my legs together.
“You said that already, Brooklyn,” he said with a grin on his face. I could have been knocked over by a feather. When was the last time a man had this effect on me?
“It’s because I mean it,” I said as he poured himself some more. He was drinking like a fish and taking it like a pro. If he was drunk already, I couldn’t tell. His eyes were clear and his words weren’t slurring. What was this guy made of?
“Gunner,” he said and snapped me out of my fantasies about him.
“What?” I said, and he smiled at me again.
“That’s my name. Gunner,” he said and held the glass to his thin lips.
I watched him sip, the way the liquid traveled down his throat.
My mouth parted as I pressed my legs together to stop the throbbing in my core.
How did he have this effect on me? Why was I picturing him naked? I didn’t even know this guy!
“You can’t drink anymore,” I said with a snap and pulled the bottle away from him.
Even though I had my back turned to him as I arranged the bottles, I could sense his gaze on me.
When I turned my head to the side, I realized that he had been staring at my ass.
A part of my body there was ample amount of.
I hadn’t put on those tight jeans to purposely accentuate my curves, but I knew it was working in my favor now.
“Are you going to tell me what to do?” he said in a slow drawling voice. I turned to him again, my lips turning drier the more we looked at each other.
“When you’re in here, yes,” I said, and that same seductive smile crept up on his face. I was imagining my body slamming into him. Picturing him lifting me up on his shoulders, how his muscles would clench when he did it.
“Fair enough,” he said and stood up from the stool, slapping dollars down on the counter. I felt a sudden harsh tug in my soul. He was going to leave. I wasn’t going to see him again. What did I want from him anyway?
“C’mon…didn’t you say you were closing up?” he said. I crossed my brows in confusion. Gunner smiled and walked towards the door of the empty bar.
“I’ll close up for you, and you can start clearing away,” I heard him say, while I remained stock-still. What was going on?
“These the keys?” he asked, picking up the keys that were hanging from a hook behind the door.
I gulped and nodded my head then heard the snap of the lock.
He had locked us inside, just the two of us.
Even though I should have been worried or suspicious, I couldn’t help my pulse from quickening, the back of my neck from burning hot.
“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” I said meekly, fully conscious of what was going to happen in the next few moments. Gunner grinned, taking steps in my direction.
“There’s a first time for everybody,” he said.
My body quivered when he came near me. He had walked around the counter and was now inches away from me, and I had gone too far to stop it now.
“Gunner…” I said his name like I knew him well, even though I didn’t know what else to say. He stopped for a second, gave me a chance to finish the sentence and when I didn’t, he came closer to me.
“You look like you want to forget, just like I do,” he growled in a voice deep enough to send shivers down my spine. I had no idea what he was talking about, but as far as I was concerned, he had hit the nail on the head. I wanted to forget about losing my brother.
My lips parted of their own accord, and he reached out and grabbed my jaws tightly. I winced and he yanked me closer to him.
“Stop me if you want now, Brooklyn, because after this there’s no turning back,” he said; his face was set as hard as stone.
I gulped but didn’t stop him. I wanted to feel something, anything, and I was ready for him.
I had been ready for him since he walked into the bar.
As crazy as this was, it was actually happening.
“Good girl,” he said, and he lowered his mouth to mine.
Our lips met in a sizzle and he pushed his tongue into my mouth furiously, like he was angry about something.
I tasted the whisky on his breath. Instinctively, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
As I accommodated his mouth, he pushed me, further and further till my ass pressed against the cold counter.
He was leaning me over it, kissing me, exploring my mouth with his tongue.
I could feel the hard-on in his jeans. His cock was throbbing in his pants, digging into my thigh as he pressed his body into me. While our mouths remained stuck together, his hands had found my breasts.
I gasped when he squeezed then he pinched my pebbled nipples through the thin material of my T-shirt and lace bra. He must have been pleased with my reaction, because he pinched my nipples again. I cried out in pleasurable pain, and Gunner pulled his mouth away from me.
“Isn’t this what you want?” he asked, and before I could even react, he had started rolling up my T-shirt.
My bare skin puckered up in the cool air as he revealed my breasts.
He looked at them, and in one swift movement, he unhooked my bra; my ample breasts with sensitive erect nipples, yearning for his mouth.
I wanted him to suck on them. I needed him to suck on them, but he was hell bent on teasing me.
I watched with my breath caught in my throat as he licked the tip of his forefinger. With his blue eyes sparkling, he touched my nipples, the smile on his face growing as I moaned. I could feel the wetness in my core, my throbbing aching clit in my jeans as I thrust my hips in his direction.
This was so crazy and unbelievable that I wanted him to just take me. I wanted to come, and I could feel myself dangling over the edge. Gunner squeezed my nipples and I gasped.
“Good girl,” he said again, and I could feel my knees shaking with desire.
I wanted to see that cock. I wanted it inside me.
He pulled me up in his arms again and set me onto the bar top as he took my lips into his mouth.
This time, the kiss was even more hungry—if that was even possible—and my nipples brushed against his cold leather jacket and goosebumps erupted all over my skin.
When he pulled away, I was gasping for air, but he had lowered his face.
I arched my back, offering my breasts to him, and he took my left nipple into his mouth.
I weaved my fingers through his velvety hair as he sucked.
I was half on the bar, half in his arms, my feet barely touching the floor as he licked and nibbled and sucked.
It was some relief, even though my core had started protesting again. I needed that cock inside me.
When his fingers dug into the skin of my belly, I shuddered.
“I have to make sure you’re ready for me,” he said with an evil grin, as his fingers traveled down my bare belly and disappeared into my tight jeans.
I remained in his arms, my back arched further over the counter, as his forefinger found its way between my legs.
He seemed to be an expert at this, and he knew how to stroke my clit, how to rub the nib so that my body was soaring.
He didn’t stop roughly stroking me, bringing me to the edge while I rotated my hips and thrust it towards him.
My gaze at him was pleading, begging him to fuck me.