by Jordan Marie
Hell, I’ve been lonely since Ellie left. That woman owned a piece of me and I doubt that the void she left will ever be filled. I talk a good game in front of my brothers, but it’s all bullshit. I’m grieving for a woman who walked away from me without a second look. Fuck, the last thing I need to think about is her while I’m drunk. It’s probably just because I’m so close to where her family lives. I never tracked her down. She walked away and fuck it. If I didn’t mean more to her than that, I didn’t want her. I let her go. For all I know, she could be in Alaska, freezing her tits off. That’d be a shame, because they were fucking good tits. I used to love thrusting my cock between then and painting her face in my cum. Ellie was a gorgeous bitch with soft, gorgeous hair. But, she never bitched about me messing her hair up in bed. She didn’t give a fuck if I bathed her in my cum. She loved sex. She loved anyway I gave it to her and most of the time it was as dirty as I could dream up.
Christ. I’m getting a fucking cock stand just remembering my time with her. All this time my dick has been mostly dead—despite what Devil and the others think. Now, that I’m rising to the occasion, so to speak, there’s not a club whore around.
Just my luck.
I shove my chair out from the table, putting my hand down my pants, I wrap it around my cock and pull it up, because it’s painful as fuck. The tip hangs out over my belt but that’s better than where it was before. There’s pre-cum on the head.
“Jesus, I need laid.”
“I thought men were supposed to get limp when they drink as much as you are.”
My gaze moves slowly over the woman with small, but firm, tits—nothing like my Ellie’s. She’s wearing a skin tight top and denim shorts. She’s got thick blonde hair, not quite the same shade as Ellie’s but it’s long enough I could wrap my hand in it and feed her my cock. She’s also got this deep shade of red lipstick on. My gaze stops there.
Plush, sugary-sweet lips, in a deep red.
The sight of them definitely reminds me of Ellie. If I can’t have her…
One crystal clear thought begins to take root in my whiskey-fogged head.
“I’m not most men.”
“Oh, I can definitely tell that,” she grins. When she grins, her lips thin out and I frown in dislike. Ellie never had thin lips, fuck the more I kissed them they’d swell and somehow get even fucking sweeter. “Are you looking for some company?” she asks. I see it on her face. I’m fine with it. Hell, I can even respect it. She’s not looking for a night of sex as much as the money it will put in her pocket.
“Not really,” I tell her truthfully. Company is the last fucking thing I want. I don’t want a woman in my bed at the hotel. I don’t want to have to wake up and kick some bitch out in the cold. Still, I could use something to take the edge off tonight.
“Now, that’s a damn shame.”
“I like your lipstick,” I tell her before she can turn away.
“You do?” she asks, with a startled laugh.
“Fuck, yeah. It makes me wonder.”
“Wonder?” she asks.
“What it would look like on my cock,” I tell her, taking another drink and judging her reaction.
Her eyes widen, but I don’t think it’s in shock.
“Well, I could show you…for a price.”
And there it is. Cards on the table.
“How much we talking?” I ask her, putting my glass on the table.
“We can go back to your place and—”
“I don’t have a place. I have a shitty-ass motel room that’s barely fit to shit in. The last thing I want is a woman there. So, that’s out.”
“I could take you to my—”
“Here. I want you here.”
“Maybe…the bathroom? Or at the back of the building?” she suggests
Now, I see the real shock on her face. I pull out my billfold, thankful I got some extra cash out at the bank. I didn’t think this is what I’d use it for, but I’m damn glad. I take out a couple of hundreds and lay them on the table.
“Right here, right now. You, on your knees under the table, my cock stuck so far back in your mouth you’re choking on it and you swallow down every bit of my cum and don’t come up for air.”
I see her body shiver. I don’t know if it’s for show. I also don’t give a fuck.
She looks around the crowded club. I’m in the back, but it’s not dark. There’s every chance in the fucking world people will see her. I don’t really give a fuck about that either. I take out another hundred, and put it with the others.
“Three hundred bucks to give you a hummer?” she asks.
“And swallow it down.”
“You have a fucking disease I should know about?”
“Do you?” I return, not really caring. She doesn’t look sick, not that you can tell from that shit. There’s also a part of me that doesn’t give a fuck what happens to me. I’m tired. I’ve been fucking tired for so long…
She reaches over and grabs the money, stuffing it into her bra. Her sadly slim tits show the money easily and I frown, visions of Ellie’s full breasts that overfilled her bra every fucking time, float into my mind. Luckily, I won’t have to see this girl’s tits, because she’ll be under the table.
“I’m going to rock your world. What’s your name?” she asks.
“You can call me…Daddy,” I respond with a grin. She laughs, then drops to her knees, crawling under the table. I reach for my glass, take another drink, then close my eyes as she undoes my pants.
Fuck, Ellie. This right here is all I need. Tomorrow, I’ll meet up with Gunner and Devil in Chicago and I’ll be doing it with a working dick. Maybe then, I’ll finally be able to fuck her memory away.
Ellie
“Ellie, I’ve got bad news,” Trina says, walking into the office. I hold my head down, not really wanting to hear it. I’m off work in…I look up at the clock on the wall across from my desk to confirm it.
Three minutes.
It’s been a bad night, and the bar has been chaos, thanks to a bachelorette party gone wild in the party room. The last thing I want is more trouble. I want to go home, put on my jammies and crawl into bed, forgetting this entire day. What I don’t want to do is deal with more drunk women or men who should have quit drinking an hour ago, but instead, are intent on ruining my night and drinking themselves into a stupor.
I might as well admit it. I hate my job. I hate it with a passion. Manager of Harvey Wallbanger’s pays the bills. When I got the job, the name made me giggle. I met Harvey and even though he can be an asshole, I liked him. The job kind of sucks, but my schedule is decent and the money is good. Nights like tonight, though, make me want to throw in the towel and flip burgers at the diner down the street.
“Let Thomas handle it,” I mutter.
“He’s not here yet,” Trina replies and I curse under my breath. That asshole knows it’s time for me to be out of here. He also knows I can’t leave until he gets here. He just doesn’t give a damn.
“Is it really urgent, Trina? It’s been a bad night,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. I’ve got a migraine starting. They’re nothing new, I get them often. This one, however, is going to be a killer. I can already tell.
“It’s Hayley,” she responds, disgust in her voice.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Hayley is a local girl, who gets her money by sleeping with the men who come in the bar. I’m not a prude and the way I figure it, prostitution has been around since the dawn of time. I can’t judge it, because if a woman has to make money and this way offers her a better living, to each their own. My problem is that Hayley doesn’t do it for the money as much as the thrill. She also doesn’t care what or where she does it. Which means, if she gets Harvey’s shut down because she’s bare ass naked with her tits swaying in the air on the dance floor while she’s taking it up the ass by some man with deep pockets, she couldn’t care less—and trust me I know her tits sway because she’s got five kids at home. If that wasn’t proof enough,
I’ve had to have the bouncers drag her and the Gibson brothers off the dance floor and out of the bar one night for trying to do that very thing. Personally, I would have banned all three from the bar at that point, but Harvey wouldn’t let me. I suspect because Hayley let him do what I stopped the Gibson brothers from doing. Men are pigs. There’s a huge part of me that doesn’t want to go put a stop to Hayley’s bullshit. It would serve Harvey right if he was reported and got shut down for a few days. The problem with that scenario is that most likely I’d lose my job, and since I’m partial to having a roof over my head, with food in my fridge…it’s not an option.
“Jesus, doesn’t that bitch ever take a night off?”
“Never. She enjoys what she does too much,” Trina replies dryly.
“Women’s bathroom again?”
“Nope, if it was there I’d have left you alone.”
“Shit, the front door again?”
“Nope, and before you ask, not the bar top either.”
“Now, I’m afraid to know. Harvey needs his ass kicked.”
“Or his dick to fall off, which after messing with Hayley, it just might.”
“Sorry, Trina. I know dealing with Hayley and her bullshit every night is the last thing you want to do,” I respond with a sigh. Trina’s ex, Tyler, is her ex because she came home from work one night and found him and Hayley in her bed.
“I wanted to take care of it myself, but I’d probably kill the bitch. Didn’t figure Harvey would like a murder happening at his bar.”
“Probably not. Where’s she at?” I ask, picking up the phone and dialing without even thinking about the number—probably because I have to dial it too damn often.
“Table fifty-seven,” Trina says.
“Thomas, where are you?” I ask into the phone.
“I’m about ten minutes out, Ellie. My car wouldn’t start.”
“I’d believe that if I didn’t know you don’t have a fucking car. I’m leaving in five minutes. You better have your ass here, or I’m telling Harvey that he needs to ditch your ass. I’m tired of covering for you.”
“El—”
I hang up, and toss my cell on the desk, rubbing my temple. I definitely have a migraine now. I need to get home, medicate and sleep. I don’t need to deal with this bullshit. I just don’t have a choice. I stand up, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my back pants pocket.
“Time to take out the trash,” I mumble to Trina.
“You can say that again,” she says with a laugh, following me out.
Ellie
“I don’t see her.”
“Under the table,” Trina says. “Where you always find the trash.”
My gaze goes down and sure enough, there is Hayley, under the table, her mouth buried between a pair of thick legs that are encased in worn jeans. At least this side of the bar is kind of dark. I can’t see the man’s face, but just from his outline I would say that Hayley’s clientele has improved dramatically since the Gibson brothers.
I walk over and I’m almost directly at the table, when I hear the man groan out. “Quit teasing. Put it in that mouth of yours.”
My knees threaten to buckle. I know that voice. I know it because it haunts me nightly. I stop, causing Trina to run into my back.
“El? You okay?”
I don’t answer her. I’m not sure I could, even if I tried. It feels like I’m dying. I can’t move, I can’t look away. I can’t breathe.
“El? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Trina says. If I wasn’t in shock, I’d hear the panic in her voice.
“Liam?”
I didn’t mean to say his name. I sure as hell didn’t want to. It slips out in my shock. I hope he doesn’t hear me, but his face jerks around immediately and he stares at me, his silver-gray eyes cold as steel.
“Ice? What the fuck?”
I recoil when I hear his nickname. He used to think it was funny. He said my hair was so white it reminded him of ice, but I was so hot I felt like liquid fire when he was inside of me. I used to like that he thought of me like that and I couldn’t deny it. My reaction to Liam was always combustible, it was so hot. Now? Now, I feel so cold that it hurts to drag air through my lungs.
But I do.
“Hayley, you’ve got one chance to get out from under this table and you two can continue your party in private, or I call Hank over here.”
“Fuck, I’m just trying to make a living here,” Hayley bitches from under the table, peeking her head out, spittle running along the side of her lips. I can’t look at her. I can’t look at that. I don’t want to think of this whore with Liam’s dick in her mouth. It shouldn’t bother me. It’s been over a year—hell, almost two—and it’s not like Liam has even tried to get in touch with me—even after I served him with divorce papers. He calmly signed them and mailed them back to my mother’s. I hated him for that and I know I didn’t have a right to.
I still did.
“Trina, get Hank—”
“I’m getting out, you bitch. Maybe if you tried a fucking dick every once in a while, you wouldn’t begrudge women who get them,” she says crawling on her hands and knees. Considering that her shorts let her ass cheeks hang out, she’s definitely giving Liam a view of what else could be his. To his credit, he doesn’t look. He’s too busy staring at me.
“Take your john and get out of my club.”
“We’ll see what Harvey has to say about this,” the bitch huffs.
The urge to punch her is strong, but I resist. I don’t want Liam to see that I’m upset.
“Well, he’s not here. That means you have to deal with me. So you two get the fuck out of here and continue your party where my customers can’t see you,” I snap. I turn to walk away and Liam’s hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back around. I turn to look at him, the tension between us so thick that it nearly chokes me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Liam growls. My body jerks in reaction to the anger in his voice. My gaze rakes over him, taking in the subtle changes in him since we parted. Then, I drop my eyes down to take in his erect cock that is more than half out of his pants. Disgust, anger, and even jealousy wells up inside of me.
“Put your junk up, zip your pants and get the fuck out of my bar, Liam. If you don’t, I’ll have you arrested,” I threaten. I turn away, closing my eyes briefly when he lets go of my hand. Then, I walk quickly back to my office. I don’t stop, I don’t answer Trina’s questions. I just keep walking. When I get inside my office, I close the door, leaning against it, as my heart raps hard against my chest. I sink to the floor, as my legs finally buckle.
Liam is in Phoenix. Liam is in my bar.
Liam was getting a blowjob by a local hooker.
In my bar.
What does this mean? And why do I have the urge to run to my car and get the hell out of Arizona?
Fury
I let the nicotine fill my lungs. I let Hayley leave after she showed me Ellie’s car. I’ve been standing here ever since. It’s clear they hate each other, but considering she has three hundred bucks and doesn’t have to do another damn thing for it, she left pretty happy. It figures it’d be my luck to finally get my fucking dick to work and run into the bitch who ruined me in the first place.
“When did you take up smoking?” Ellie asks, standing ten feet away from me. I reach up to take the cigarette from my lips, hiding the fact that my hand shakes when I see her.
I can’t believe that after all this time, she’s finally standing in front of me. I knew coming to Arizona was a bad idea. I should have called Gunner in sooner, hiked my ass back to Tennessee and continued forgetting this bitch…
I throw the cigarette down, grinding it out with my boot, my gaze never leaving her face. She hasn’t changed. She looks exactly the same, which doesn’t seem fair considering she nearly destroyed me and left me a fucking wreck.
“A man tends to pick up some bad habits when the woman he trusted with his life throws him over.”
“Didn’t know you cared,” I say with a cold laugh that has nothing to do with humor.
“Do you mind stepping away from my car? I’ve had a long day and I just want to get home,” she says, staring at me blankly.
No emotion, nothing. Just this matter of fact voice that is grating on my fucking nerves.
“What are you doing in Phoenix?”
“This is where I’m from, maybe you’ve forgotten, but I could ask you the same question. I don’t need to though, do I? I’m guessing the answer to that would be the club. Did they send you down here to kill someone else, Liam? Damn, should I worry you’ve decided to off me because of the secrets I know?”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Ice.”
“Yeah, I guess I should. Get the fuck away from my car and I’ll do us both a favor and leave.”
“You’re not from Phoenix. How long have you been here?”
“Why do you care, Liam? In all that time you haven’t bothered getting in contact with me once. I’m not about to play twenty questions with you now. Get the hell away from my car so I can make like a tree and leave.”
“Christ. You’re still corny as hell, Ice,” I mutter, taking out another cigarette and lighting it—needing something to do with my hands.
“Liam, I have a migraine and it’s going to be all I can do to get home. Your cigarette smoke isn’t helping. Please, just step away so I can get out of here and put an end to this horrible night.”
“You still get migraines? You really should see a doctor about those. They were getting more frequent before you left.”
“They’re brought on by stress. Funny how I develop one at the sight of you,” she huffs and it makes me smile, although there’s no joy in it.