Rescue the Barista
Page 6
“An hour and a half!” I shout after them. They’re leaving already. Partly because they’re all happy for me, for us. Mainly because none of them is going to argue with him. No way.
* * *
The last customer leaves, smiling, and Angelo turns the sign. My angel. My angelic devil. He pulls down all the blinds, prowling deliberately around my little coffee shop. His hungry eyes stay fixed on me as he comes back to me, in the middle of the floor. I turn, “Not here. Not in the – ”
* * *
He’s scooped me up like an ice-cream, carried me to the kitchen door. Out into the little back kitchen. Already, while he’s kicking the door shut behind him, he’s opening the front of my shirt. Taking hold of my breasts with a look on his face like a man with a rare, juicy steak.
* * *
I open the buttons on his shirt, as fast as I can. “I want to get what’s in there,” I unbuckle his belt. Open his pants.
Unzipping him, the weight of his huge cock pushes the fabric of his boxers out into the gap. His tang of testosterone hits my nose and I’m down on my knees, wrestling him out of his pants.
* * *
“Daddy,” I don’t even look up. His huge beast pulses in my hand and I’m pulling it to my open mouth, “Daddy, may I suck your cock now? Please?” I’m holding the buzzing shaft, looking at the huge beast.
* * *
He groans.
* * *
I tell him, “Before you say ‘no,’ remember I’ve got your balls in my other hand.”
* * *
I close my grip just enough to let him know I mean business. If he wants to stop me swallowing his thick sword of flesh now, he’s going to have a fight on his hands. Or, on his dick. Up to him, really.
* * *
“Yes,” his voice scrapes like metal.
* * *
I stretch my lips, saliva gushes into my mouth, I run my tongue around my lips to wet them first. Then I pause. Make the fucker wait for a moment, at least. As soon as I hear him sigh, I slide him across my tongue, pull him in and close my lips around him.
* * *
His shaft shudders and straightens across my tongue. The bulb slides against the roof of my mouth and saliva gushes when he reaches the back of my tongue. My lips close around his hot flesh and I push my mouth as far along it as I can. Push until I feel him scrape the back of my throat. I move my head forward, sliding out my tongue, reaching for his balls. I want my lips against his pelvis. I want all of him. I want to work and pump his cock with the wet muscles in my throat. I want to drink him dry.
* * *
Pushing and shoving, finally I get my nose against his abdomen.
* * *
He moans, long and sweet. I feel his balls tighten and his cock starts to jump.
* * *
He grabs my hair in a bunch and yanks me back. Pulling me off him, he says, “Nu-uh. Not yet, little missy, little barista. I’m going to get you fucked first.”
* * *
“I want to drink your cum. I want to taste you and swallow you.”
* * *
He pulls me up, and he slaps my ass before he starts to work my silky pants down. “You can do that, you bad, bad little barista,” he slaps me again, “When we’ve got you nice and pregnant.”
* * *
His hand plunges into the back of my lacy red panties. He pushes down my ass. It reminds me of his juddering me in front of the construction workers. My stomach zings like it’s hollow. I feel like I’m ready to come right away.
* * *
His strong fingers press into my channel. Up against the back of my clit. Then he’s inside me. His hand is dripping wet and I’m clinging, squirming and moaning. I lift my leg but he slaps my thigh.
* * *
“First, we need to get all these clothes off you…”
* * *
He pulls down my pants and panties and I shrug off my bra. He moans appreciatively as he takes hold of my breasts. He kisses me long and deep. My bare flesh against him, I wriggle and push to be closer, to get more of me connected with more of him. He lifts me with tender strength.
* * *
He holds me up, cradling my ass in his hands. He looks into my eyes and I feel like I am actually melting inside like a collapsing glacier. “You're really mine, beautiful barista. Jamie, I love you so much,” and he drops me, impales me on the massive spike of his cock
* * *
I’m stretched wide. It’s a rush like cold fireworks and hot showers exploding inside me. I’m catapulted. My stomach flips over and over. I fling my arms tight around him, hide my face in the crook of his neck. Gasp and groan as I ride him like a jockey.
* * *
His pelvis rolls and tilts, driving his shaft into me like a machine, like a road drill. I’m convulsing. All my muscles flex and contract. Clenching and stretching.
* * *
The ripping ache of his cock stretches me so hard, so wide, and the blasting sensation of him filling me so deep, makes me squeeze and whimper, bounce and stretch.
* * *
Pushing and pulling.
* * *
Needing and wanting.
* * *
He cannons into me, leans me against the wall, grips my ass, holds my thighs.
* * *
When I look up, his eyes fix onto mine. I can see he’s almost at the point of coming, too. I hammer him as hard as I can. He saws into me. Ruthless. Merciless. Unstoppable.
* * *
Exploding sparks inside me drive me to a high plateau. I feel like I daren’t fall. Like I’m on a precipice. Like the earth will rush up at me. Like a tsunami, poised at the point before the splashing crash.
* * *
We both stop. I tremble as we look into each other’s eyes. Both ready. Both knowing. This it it.
* * *
I implode, collapse, splash into cascades as he slides the whole length of his pulsing rod inside me. I feel his shaft swell. A ring of thickness starts at the base, then bolts to the crown. Hot, thick, sticky jizz fills me, then more. And more.
* * *
My teeth sink into his neck. My ass rises and falls. My walls grip and flutter on his cock. His fountain and my gushing juices mingle.
* * *
He presses, drilling into me and blasting more hot spunk into me. I'm clenching, clawing, trembling. Helpless.
* * *
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I shout. “Harder. Don’t stop.” He bends his knees, slaps my ass cheeks and rocks into me, again and again. I’m bursting like a waterfall.
Epilogue
I’m already in the shop when I tell him on the phone, “It’s what I do, Angelo. Besides, it’s my baby. It wouldn’t be Christmas if I didn’t stop in to give it some TLC. I’m just opening up until lunch, okay?” Over the phone, I know he can hear the tinkling of the little bell. He knows it’s too late to argue.
“I want you opening up here. At home. With me. I got something needs your TLC.”
“Later, my devilish angel.”
“I’ve got a surprise for you to unwrap.”
“I bet you have.”
I have a surprise for him, too. But I won’t tell him yet.
I’ve decorated the place. I think I’ve pushed it just beyond the edge of tasteful, but not too far. I’ve got a pot of mulled wine on. Just enough cloves and cinnamon to make it a little spicy. I’ll give a glass to anyone who comes in and wants it. Nice Scandinavian songs play in the background on the stereo systems when Summer comes in.
“Happy Christmas,”
We hug.
“Happy Christmas.”
She says, “I love what you’ve done with the place.” It’s ages since we’ve had a chance to chat and be together in the same room.
It is nice to catch up. A few of the regulars stop in, some just to say, ‘Merry Christmas,’ and that makes me feel good. They’re all glad for the mulled wine, whether they take coffee or not.
“You know,” I tell Summe
r, “we’re a little family here.”
And that’s about when Angelo shows up and he’s brought his buddies. He still looks like the hottest Capo. Maybe it’s the Italian suit, but I think it’s more the look in his eye. Like a cultured killer.
I have mixed feelings about seeing Nico and H, but I give them each a glass. Nico is super charming. He’s brought holly, cake and he’s wrapped a really nice box of chocolates for me.
I know that Angelo still sees them. And that they ask him for advice and guidance. But he tells me he’s not involved in anything and I believe him. I can’t really expect a leopard to turn into a house-cat. Not overnight, at any rate.
When Aggie stops in, the strawberry blonde with the pink streaks, she stays around a short while and she’s brought a wedding and Christmas gift for Angelo and me. A little snow globe.
Everybody straightens when Julius arrives. Even I know it’s Julius. Not only from the size of him and the scar down the side of his face, but also the fact that Vito trails in behind him.
Julius gives me a hug and wishes me Merry Christmas. He has a nice piece of Italian cheese for me, which is lovely, but I’m still wary. Then, without too much encouragement from Julius, Vito steps forward with a wooden crate.
Putting the crate on the table he says, “I want to hand it to you, Jamie. You’re one tough fucking lady. Give you your due. No fucking lie.” Julius throws a scowl like thunder at him. He’s about to apologize, but I hold up a hand.
“It’s okay, Julius. It’s good of Vito to come by and say that.”
“No,” Vito says, “That ain’t it. I come to say that I’m sorry, okay? I was wrong, I shouldn’t have given you all of that shit.”
And he blinks and flattens his chin. “So, I brought you a case of wine to say sorry, and Happy Christmas.”
I’m touched. I move forward and give him a hug. We chink glasses of mulled wine.
“I hope you can put it behind us,” he says, “But I’ll understand if you can’t.”
“Vito,” I tell him, “I can’t say that we’ll be close friends, but we don’t need to be enemies.” And he even thanks me nicely.
I’m about ready to close up when I see Massimo at the door.
“I just wanted to say how badly I felt about what happened,” he tells me. I give him mulled wine and tell him not to worry.
He tells me, “The company’s giving a bottle of Grappa to all of what it calls its ‘best customers.’ They sent one for you,” he says, “I kept yours.”
“Oh,” I laugh, uncertain what to make of it.
“Yeah. That shit they’re handing out, it tastes like fucking engine oil. I don’t know what I’ll do with your bottle. But I brought you something better.” He puts a bottle on the counter. “This is the real thing. I bought it myself in Tuscany.”
We all toast with the last of the mulled wine.
As I’m closing up the shop, Angelo urges me. “We have to get back to my apartment, like now. Our home, baby.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“If you think I’m going to let Christmas go by without you unwrapping a hot surprise, I’ve got news for you, little bad barista.”
“Well, I’ve got news for you Mr. Mobster. There are three of us here, so you’d better be careful. By next Christmas, in fact a little sooner than that, there are going to be three of us out in the light.”
“What?”
“Yup. One of us is staying hidden for the winter. And some of fall.”
He hugs me so tight I feel like he’s going to crush me. Then, immediately he lets go.
“Woah!” and he takes my packages and holds my arm at the elbow.
“I’m pregnant, you idiot, not senile or geriatric.”
“Well, whatever. You really are going to have to let me take care of you now.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
The End
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