Chapter 46 Tanner’s
WREN - ONE MONTH LATER - DECEMBER
It’s three days before Christmas, and Tanner officially owns The Local—or should I say, he officially owns Tanner’s.
He pushes the key in and unlocks the front doors, pulling me inside the empty bar where so many of my favorite memories have taken place.
“It’s so empty,” I say, walking with him towards the bar top and setting down the gift I brought with me.
“Weird, right?”
“Very weird. When does the new furniture arrive?”
“In a couple of weeks. Looking at it this empty, I’m wondering if I should’ve taken Jerry up on his offer to give me the furniture, but I think I made the right call.”
“I think you did too. And you kept the ping-pong table, which is the most important piece of furniture. Did you know that the girls think it’s magic?”
“Magic?”
“Yep, apparently all of us who are now together started by playing a game on that table.”
“Interesting.” He shrugs, running his hand along the bar top. “When do I get to open my present?”
“Be patient.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
He moves around the bar and searches the shelves underneath it. “There isn't much back here, but there is a bottle of amaretto.”
“That seems right.”
He pours some of the amber liquid into two glasses and then walks over to the freezer and grabs out some ice.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask as he slides one of the glasses in my direction. I take a sip, and the almond-flavored liquor tickles my taste buds.
“Isn’t that the question I should be asking you?” He laughs. “I am the one on this side of the bar.”
I push myself up onto the bar, moving to sit on the edge so that my legs are dangling. He moves in between them and sips from his glass.
“Now that I’m on the right side of the bar, may I ask the question, bartender?”
“You may.”
“What’s on your mind?”
He breathes out a long breath and stretches his neck. “I’m really wondering what’s in the present.”
“Be serious. You seem really preoccupied.”
“Honestly, I think I’m in shock that it’s all mine,” he says. “And while I’m really happy and excited to have a place with my name on it, I’m scared that I’ll fuck it up somehow and lose it all.”
“You aren’t going to fuck it up.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re smart, and strong, and creative, and you aren’t a quitter.” I punctuate each adjective with a peck on his lips. “You are going to kill it here. Come on, tell me all of your plans.”
“You know my plans.”
“Humor me. What’s going on that wall over there?” I ask, pointing to the blank wall behind the DJ booth.
“I actually don’t have plans for that wall yet, but I was wondering if you’d paint something on it.”
I stare at him a little stunned. “You want me to paint the wall?”
“If you want to…” He smiles. “I’d absolutely love for you to paint the wall.”
“Do I have full creative reign?”
“Of course.” He laughs, shaking his head. “What are you thinking?”
“Off the top of my head? Let’s see.” I pause, tapping my chin with my finger. “Maybe a big mural of our friend group, but animals instead of people. We could all be gathered under the name of the bar.”
“Animals?”
“Yes, so like you’d be a dog, and I’d be a cheetah. And we could all be holding our typical drinks.”
He chuckles. “I like that. And what kind of animal would everyone else be?”
“Hmm,” I say. “Maybe we let them pick?”
“I think it sounds perfect.”
“Good,” I say, kissing him quickly. “Then I’ll do it.”
He begins to unzip one of my knee-high boots.
“What are you doing?” I ask, need coursing through me in an instant.
“You just look so pretty sitting here, and I thought we might need to christen the place.” He unzips my other boot and tugs it off my foot before dropping it onto the floor.
“What if someone comes in?” I ask.
“The bar’s closed. No one is coming in here.” He sips from his glass, his eyes darkening over the rim, then works his hands up my legs and over my hips. “I love this little skirt,” he says. “But you know what would make it better?”
“What?” I ask, my breaths already turning rapid in anticipation of his next move.
“Nothing underneath it. How attached are you to these?”
“Not attached at all. Wh—”
Before I can finish, he gathers the top of my stockings and rips them open in one motion, exposing my bare pussy to him completely.
“Fuck,” I let out. “You really should rip my clothes off of me more often.”
“Noted.” He pulls the torn fabric off, and a sexy grin spreads across his face. “My wild girl. You’re wearing the plug?” he asks, running his fingers along my inner thigh until he reaches the orange jewel that adorns it.
I nod my head and smirk.
His throat bobs as he swallows, and his pupils blow.
Taking both of his hands, he spreads my legs apart, causing my skirt to bunch around my hips. I lean back ever so slightly on my hands so that I’m on full display for him. “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself,” he says.
I whimper under his praise.
Trailing his finger up my center, he dips one finger inside of me and then another, causing my head to fall back. “You’re soaked, baby.” A moan escapes my lips as he pumps his fingers in and out at a tantalizing speed.
Our eyes lock on one another, and he removes his hand. My lips part on instinct, expecting him to want me to suck them clean, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings both to his own mouth. “Fuckkkk,” he says with a moan. “You taste amazing.”
Another whimper crosses my lips as his eyes rake over me.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Always,” I say.
He finds his glass of amaretto and pulls out a large piece of ice.
Bringing one of my ankles to his shoulder, he runs the cube down my leg, causing goosebumps to flare everywhere it touches.
He continues to trail up my inner thigh, and when he reaches my pussy, he runs the ice up my center, and I let out a moan. “Does that feel good, pretty girl?”
“So good,” I breathe out, swallowing hard.
The contrast between the slight burn of alcohol and the coldness of the ice on my clit causes my whole body to shudder. I watch as he circles my sensitive bud with the ice, winding me tighter. A wicked grin spreads across his face, and he pops the ice cube into his mouth.
HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.
He lets out a moan when the ice hits his tongue, and then he pulls me forward so that my ass hits the edge of the bar.
His mouth crashes into mine, and he pushes the still not melted ice cube into my mouth, his hands working up my body. He only breaks away long enough to remove my shirt and his, and my hands trace the lines of his abs.
Covering both of my tits with his hands, he plays with nipples. I buck my hips forward, desperate for more.
“Fuck me,” I beg, as heat gathers between my thighs. “I need you inside of me now.”
“Soon,” he says, bending down until his head is buried between my thighs. His tongue works me over and over again in long, filthy licks and flicks. My hands pull on his hair, and I writhe against his face.
“Tanner, please. I need more,” I plead, desperate to feel him inside me. “And I don’t want your hand.” He stands, pulling me in for another kiss.
“Pants,” he breathes out.
My hands find the button and zipper of his jeans. I undo them and then tug them down over his hips, freeing his shaft.
I line him up with my center, and he pushes forward in one motion.
I take his cock until he’s flush against me.
I breathe through the sweet pain from the tightness of the plug.
We rock into each other over and over. Our hands explore each other’s bodies and weave into each other’s hair.
Our tongues tangle and our teeth clash. Feral need pulses through me; with every thrust of his hips, tension builds at the base of my spine.
He sits up slightly, and his thumb finds my clit. He begins to rub purposeful circles, and we both watch the place we connect.
“Let go, Wren. I know you’re close, so let go. I want to feel my wild girl come all over my cock on top of my bar.”
All it takes is one more thrust, and he catapults me over the edge. We both fall together as I moan out his name.
When we both finish, he helps me sit up a little straighter, kissing me gently.
I pop off the bar, grabbing my shirt. His eyes follow me as I walk to the bathroom. I’ve never felt more sexy or more desired in my life.
“Fuck,” he calls behind me, and when I look back over my shoulder, his eyes rake down me, no doubt eyeing the little jewel and his cum that’s dripping down my thighs. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he says.
“Yours,” I echo, turning, so I’m now walking backwards. I swipe one of my fingers through his release and bring my hand to my mouth. Popping my lips, I suck the salty liquid from the tip and throw him a wink.
“You trying to kill me?” he asks.
I giggle, pleased with myself, and then continue towards the bathroom to get cleaned up.
When I return, he’s still standing behind the bar, shirtless with his pants pulled up.
“Can I open my present now?” he asks, pouting his lip.
“So impatient.” I giggle, climbing back onto the bar and pulling my shirt over my head. “But I guess you’ve earned it.”
A wide grin spreads across his face, and he grabs the box. Pulling on the paper, he tears it away, and inside is a comic book titled: The Adventures of the Cheetah and the Dog.
“You made me this?” he asks.
“No, someone else you're dating did,” I deadpan.
“That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I can’t believe you made me a comic book.”
“You like it?”
“Like it? I love it. Also, your dog and cheetah blow my doodles out of the water.”
He leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on my lips, and then goes back to looking at the book.
“Well, I figured you needed your own doodles from me. I used all the Post-its you left me and tried to recreate our story. I’m no author, but I did my best, and all the drawings are mine.”
“It’s perfect,” he says. “You’re perfect. Will you dance with me?”
He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. Tapping his phone, “Wild Thing” by The Troggs begins to play through the sound system, and he spins me around and around.
“I love you,” I say as he pulls me into him.
“I love you too, Wren,” he says, spinning me again.