3. LYRA
LYRA
T onight has been insane.
This bar will be chaos right up until Marcus and Dean are kicking people out into the street, and as much as I enjoy watching when that happens, tonight I’m making time for myself.
While Marcus and Dean are hustling people out the door, I will hopefully have my knee up near my head while Hunter bends me into a pretzel and fucks me until my soul is levitating outside of my body.
That is the only acceptable way for me to finish out my night. I won’t allow anything less.
I can’t lie, since the moment Hunter appeared at my bar, I was obsessed. I needed to feel his hands on my body, needed to feel the way he would work me, and damn it, I’ve been in a perpetual state of wetness ever since. And it’s got nothing to do with my water-soaked tank.
Everything is throbbing, and believe me, that’s not something I admit to lightly.
The word throbbing belongs firmly in the trash, right along with moist and folds.
But yes, it is what it is. I am absolutely throbbing.
Everything is just one big pulsation, and it’s driving me insane.
I’ve considered locking myself in my office just to get by, but why would I ruin my appetite right before the main meal?
I’ll be honest, if Hunter is all talk and can’t walk the walk, I’m going to be pissed.
I need that man to thoroughly exceed expectations, otherwise, I might explode.
I don’t think my fingers or the toys in my bedside drawer have what it takes to accomplish the level of heat I need to satisfy me tonight, but I have a feeling that Hunter will pull through.
I don’t know what it is about him, but I just know. I can feel it.
I’ve barely had a full conversation with the guy, but from what little I’ve managed to work out, he rocks that confidence the way I rock this bar, and confidence like that only comes when you know you’re a sure thing.
Damn it, he could just sit and watch me with those deadly eyes, and I’d surely combust.
These past few hours have nearly killed me. Watching the clock, waiting for it to tick closer to two in the morning, has felt like a death sentence. I’ve never known time to move quite so slowly at Black Velvet, but now, as I wave goodbye to the girls behind the bar, I couldn’t be more ready.
It feels wrong to leave like this. I’m usually the last one through the door.
Even if my shift finishes at twelve or two, I generally end up heading back into my office and working on stock orders, payroll, or next week’s roster.
There’s always something to do, but I like it that way.
I crave that sense of purpose. But tonight, I’m craving something else, something that’s big and juicy and bound to leave me screaming.
God, I can’t wait!
Heading into my office, I pull the door closed behind me and tear my wet tank over my head.
Since Hunter left a few hours ago, I’ve had to perform my sexy “Toxic” dance no less than three more times, but it’s worth it to watch the tips roll in for my girls every time I pour jugs of water over my tits.
I usually don’t bother to get dressed after my shift.
I just go home wet and take a hot shower, but tonight is different.
I want him to look at me like I’m the tastiest little snack.
I need him frothing at the mouth, desperate to get through dinner and a drink just so he can sink his teeth into me, and in order to do that, I can’t look like a drowned rat.
It’s a shame though. Drowned rat is my specialty.
Digging through the array of clothes I keep in my office, I find a cute black corset top and wrap it around my body before clasping the tiny hooks and grinning at the way my full tits sit inside the top. Then I switch out my wet work pants for a black leather mini skirt and my thigh-high boots.
Taking a quick glance in the mirror on the back of my office door, I ruffle up my hair just a bit, taking it from business to casual in the blink of an eye, letting my soft blond waves flow free before adding just a hint of cherry lip gloss.
I smile at myself, my heart already racing with anticipation, and after taking a quick glance at the time and the surveillance feed of my bar and making sure everything is as it should be, I grab my jacket and haul ass out of here.
The cocky bastard better hope that he’s ready for a woman like me, because if he’s not, I’ll have no problem chewing him up and spitting him back out. I’ll have him on his knees before he can even blink, and if he can’t handle it, then he better not be out here trying to waste my time.
Weaving my way through the chaos and back out to the bar, I check in with my staff one more time. When I look down at my phone, a grin rips across my lips.
Two a.m. on the dot.
Just as I turn to head for the door, I see him across the bar, looking just as delicious as he had when his tongue was rolling up my inner thigh, lapping up every drop of water on my skin.
Fuck. Just the thought of that moment has everything clenching within me.
Hunter stands by the main entrance, his hands buried in his pockets as he leans against one of the large support pillars, and while I should be asking how the hell he managed to bribe his way back inside while there’s a line out the door, all I can focus on is the way those deadly eyes track my every move.
He’s like a predator who’s already decided I’m worth the chase.
A shiver sails across my skin, and I can’t help but stare back as I cut through the throng of customers. He might be a predator tonight, but I’m more than willing to bite back.
He has an air about him, something that warns me that he’s dangerous, that he’s not the guy you give your heart to, and that’s more than okay with me. I don’t intend to give that much of myself, not tonight, at least.
Making my way through the crowd, I finally reach the door, and can’t help but notice how he hasn’t moved an inch.
His stance is still exactly the same. It’s almost inhuman.
Most people don’t hold themselves like that.
They shift on their feet or glance around.
They get distracted by conversations around them or check their phones.
They’re never this still. Never this focused on just one thing. But I won’t lie, I don’t hate it.
Settling myself in front of him, I lift my chin to hold that dark, tantalizing stare, and just when it almost becomes too intense for me to bear, Hunter’s gaze drops down over my outfit, appreciation thick in his wild stare as he slowly skims over my subtle curves and the way my tits are pushed up inside the corset top. “You do all this just for me?”
Fuck, that deep, rumbly voice is killing me.
My heart races, my thighs discreetly clenching as I grin and shake my head, realizing this is his way of telling me that I look absolutely delicious.
I move an inch closer, my voice dropping so that only he could possibly hear me.
“Considering these clothes are guaranteed to be on the ground in a rumpled heap by the end of the night, no. I didn’t do this for you.
This was all for me. But if I were a betting woman, my guess would be that you don’t give a shit what I’m wearing as long as you get to be the one to tear it off me. ”
His eyes seem to sparkle with the same raw anticipation that I feel, and he holds my stare for just a moment, a million silent messages passing between us before he finally gestures toward the door. “Come on, Savage. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”
“You and me, both.”
Hunter pushes away from the pillar, the move instantly closing the space between us.
He towers over me, and my stomach flutters.
I knew he was tall and built, but I was kneeling on top of my bar, and it’s hard to tell just how tall someone is from up there, but now with both feet planted on the ground, there’s no mistaking it.
This man is a beast. He must be at least 6’4” and built of solid muscle, the black fabric of his shirt straining around his strong frame.
There’s no other way to describe him other than mouthwatering.
Hunter drops his hand lower on my back as he leads me out of Black Velvet, and with every step I take, I become completely intoxicated by that woodsy scent.
It’s expensive cologne mixed with something darker, something intriguing.
I can’t put my finger on it, but whatever it is, I can’t wait to spend my night breathing it in.
The line outside the club stretches halfway down the block, full of people desperate to get into Black Velvet.
Women teeter in heels, probably clutching fake IDs, while drunk college guys desperately try to pick them up.
None of them stands a chance of actually getting in.
Even if we weren’t at capacity, my bouncers can spot an underage girl or a fake ID a mile away.
They just really enjoy making them stand there all night waiting for entry.
Hunter guides me through the crowd like he owns the damn sidewalk . . . like he owns me , and I won’t lie, I like it. There’s a dominance about the way he touches me, and it has my heart pounding with excitement.
As we walk further out of Black Velvet, I notice the exact moment my bouncers see me, and as they take in Hunter’s hand low on my back, they both stiffen.
“Boss,” Marcus says, eyeing Hunter like he’s a disease that needs to be extracted. “Everything good?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Both Marcus and Dean have been particularly protective over the past few months since there’ve been so many reports of a serial killer on the loose. “I’m fine. Having a night out for a change. Don’t wait up for me.”
Hunter’s hand flexes on my back, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the realization that I’m the boss, or if it has a little something to do with the waves of judgment coming from Marcus and Dean.