2
COLE
I watch Thea Griffin walk out of my bakery, her old brown satchel bouncing against the curve of her hip as she hits the sidewalk. The adrenaline from asking her out is still pumping through my veins.
It’s been a long time coming.
The day she first came into my bakery with that flyer for the buy one, get one free coffee with her friend, I knew I’d eventually ask her on a date. How could I not?
The memory is burned into my mind. I’d been writing a list of things for the closing staff that evening when I looked up and saw those big blue eyes staring into my soul. Her long dark brown hair was wavy and wild.
I froze. She smiled, patiently waiting until I was ready to take her order.
It was hard to focus on the words coming out of her mouth, those full, pink lips distracting me. I’ve wanted to kiss her every day since. She wore that yellow tank top—the color made the blue in her eyes pop even more.
Jesus, just the thought of that shirt stretched tight over her full tits is getting me hard. I head to the office at the back of the bakery and close the door, needing a few moments to get my body under control.
Thea is most definitely the perfect woman. I don’t date much, yet I know this without a doubt. It isn’t only her body, although that doesn’t hurt.
It’s how she smiles playfully with her friend and blushes at Cassie’s crudeness. Almost like she’s thinking the same thing, but would never say it out loud. They didn’t realize how their voices carried, easily letting me hear the comment about being hung like a horse.
It almost made me laugh.
Her face said it all as I cautiously watched her reaction. She was thinking about it, perhaps wondering what I looked like naked. Fuck. My palm runs over my pants where my cock is pushing painfully against the material.
I’ve tried to ignore their conversations, but they’re in here far too often for me to pretend I don’t hear what they talk about. Their business seems to be doing well. And I can tell that Thea is hardworking. She takes her photography seriously, like she’s willing to do whatever it takes to be successful. It’s a trait I see in myself.
She lets her friend Cassie do most of the talking and decision making. I’m not sure if she prefers others to take charge, or if Cassie’s Type-A personality railroads her so much that she doesn’t bother rocking the boat. Maybe she’s just a quiet soul who prefers to observe and take everything in.
These are little mysteries that I can’t wait to unravel as we get to know each other.
I’ve been biding my time, not wanting to appear too eager. What sealed the deal was her comment today about me asking her out. She would say yes. I thought my heart was going to give out right there.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll until I see Thea’s name. It feels too good to be true. Yet it’s not, I remind myself. This is happening.
In the meantime, I find another contact. Sierra Ritter. I hit call and wait for her to pick up.
“Hey, I need a favor that’s a little more…intimate than my normal request. I could really use your special touch. Are you available tomorrow night?”
THEA
Tonight, I’m someone else. I’m not Thea, I’m Noelle. My middle name is a convenient alias for when I go to the bar. I don’t feel guilty lying, mostly because whoever I meet here won’t be anyone special.
Hopefully, I’ll never see them again.
These weekly outings are my version of therapy. I’ve done actual therapy, but this seems to make me feel a whole hell of a lot better. It’s probably more destructive than anything else, yet I can’t help it.
It all started a few months after I broke up with Gavin. I was second guessing my decision and couldn’t get a hold of Cassie, so I drove to the nearest bar for a drink.
Barely presentable in sweats and my hair in a messy bun, I ordered a drink and let the loud music drown out my thoughts.
Not even a few sips in and I had some guy slide into the chair next to me at the bar top, offering to buy my next drink. I figured, what the hell, I was single after all.
The guy wasn’t particularly handsome, still it was nice being noticed. I spent twelve years with a man who barely touched me, let alone looked at me with desire. So when this guy’s eyes bounced between my lips and tits, I felt satisfaction surge through me.
I let him run his hand up my thigh. He even leaned in and kissed me, the alcohol on our breaths mixing. I probably should have been ashamed, but I wasn’t. Maybe because that’s where I drew the line.
Excusing myself, I told him I had to use the restroom and I’d be back. It was a lie. I circled the room and waited until he wasn’t looking to dip out, leaving him with the tab.
I told myself it was a onetime thing. Then, I found myself getting dressed up every Thursday. I needed my fix.
At first, I felt guilty making them pay. Eventually, I reconciled that with the fact that they were only buying those drinks with the hope I’d get drunk and let them fuck me.
Atlanta was easy—it’s huge and there are bars everywhere. I could go to a new spot every week before having to circle back.
Now that I live in Willow Hill, it’s not that simple.
The first time, I made a rookie mistake by coming to the only bar in town. I tricked a guy, leaving him with the tab and a mean hard on. Then, I realized he probably lives nearby and there’s a good chance I’d run into him.
After that, I made a list of all the bars in the towns surrounding Willow Hill. So far, I haven’t run into anyone who’s noticed my little scam. I also make sure that the guys I choose now are pretty drunk, so that remembering me is more difficult.
I’m sitting on the barstool, sipping on tequila, waiting for the first poor sucker to fall into my trap.
It’s lady’s night, however the cutoff was a half hour ago.
There’s still plenty of people here, some finishing their drinks and others so drunk that they’ll keep buying. I take a sip of mine and lock eyes with a man across the bar. He’s older, yet still handsome, giving me a smile that tells me he knows it.
I return it. He pushes off of his stool and saunters over, standing at the empty seat next to me.
“You’re looking awfully dangerous this evening.” His eyes travel over my body and I fight not to laugh at the cheesy line.
My slinky black dress lands on my upper thighs and hugs me tightly. The thin straps curve over my shoulders. The front has a small V cut and gives a peek at my pushed up breasts.
My eyes fall to his feet and drag up his body, lingering over his crotch for a second longer than I should, before moving up his torso and meeting his gray-blue eyes. “I could say the same thing about you.” Matching his lame line with one of my own.
I’m not one to put much effort into the men I meet on nights like this.
“Mind if I sit?”
I motion to the seat in approval. Grabbing my drink, I guide the thin cocktail straw into my mouth and take a long pull. My eyes flick from the brown liquid to meet his gaze. I know exactly what he’s imagining—my lips on his cock. That’s always what they picture when I do this. I can tell in the way their eyes widen a little and their pupils dilate.
Pulling away from my near empty glass, I give him an innocent smile and hold out my hand. “Noelle. What’s your name?”
He takes it in both of his. “Liam.” He doesn’t let go right away, so I turn his hand over in mine.
“You have nice hands,” I comment. Something about that compliment always catches them off guard.
I pull out of his grip. “You have nice…” I watch as he looks at my cleavage for half a second. “Smile. A nice smile,” he finishes, not so subtly.
Liam flags the bartender down and orders us more drinks. This one I’ll nurse, while ordering him a few more. He’s not sloppy yet, and that’s where I need him to be. In the meantime, I’ll soak up all the attention he wants to give me.
Over the next hour, Liam gets tipsier. His guard comes down while he touches on my thigh and waist. It makes heat build between my legs. I even entertain the thought of letting him fuck me. My body is so hungry for a man to make me come it clouds my judgment momentarily.
Three drinks in, I need to make my exit. I lean in and kiss him, letting my tongue slip into his mouth. Little does he know, this is the closest he’ll get to being inside of me. “I’m going to the restroom,” I whisper into his ear, letting him squeeze my ass before I step away.
I really need to pee and thankfully there isn’t a line. Stepping inside, my fingers go to turn the lock, but someone’s pushing against the door. “Occupied,” I call out and shove my shoulder into it.
The person doesn’t listen—they ram into it forcefully and I’m stumbling backwards as the door opens.
Standing in the doorway is Liam’s large frame.
“Is jus me,” he slurs.
Jesus, did he think I wanted him to meet me in here? My heart races as he closes and locks the door behind him. Fuck. There’s no other exit, not even a window. I try to calm myself before speaking. I don’t want him to know that I’m terrified and I don’t want to anger him.
“Baby, I just need to pee and then I’ll be back out,” I giggle as if I’m as drunk as him.
Liam ignores what I’ve said and advances on me. I’m so fucking stupid. I should have just left. My hands push out to keep him at a distance, but he’s a good foot taller than me and much wider. I don’t have a chance against him.
He stumbles forward, his balance barely hanging on. His whole body slumps against me, pushing me into the corner of the bathroom. Liam’s hands lazily grab at my dress, trying to pull it upwards. What does this jackass think he’s going to do? He probably can’t even get his dick up when he’s this wasted.
The taste of liquor invades my mouth as he forces his lips on mine. Using all of my strength, I shove him in the chest. As he backs up, his legs buckle when he hits the toilet. His ass lands on it perfectly, while his head flies back, smacking into the concrete wall.
I don’t wait to see if he’s okay. I run to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. My legs don’t stop running until I reach my car and I’m safely inside.
Speeding away from the bar, I make a mental note to cross this place off my list for next time.