by Marni Mann
With the crime already pinned on him, who would ever believe his side of the story? He’s the guilty party, no questions asked, even though he has been wrongly accused.
I continue searching for hours before my eyes start to water and my temples ache from staring at the screen. There’s one story in particular that catches my eye, mostly because it wasn’t done by one of the big news outlets. Just as I click on the article, the computer shuts off, and I lose power completely.
In a frantic rush, I search every inch of the apartment for the power cord but come up empty. Being so close and not being able to read the story is killing me. I try to remember what I saw and jot it down on a piece of paper because the chances of me coming across the article a second time are slim to none.
Jacob Davis.
Detroit Free Press.
Third-party conspirator.
That’s all I can remember. Whoever Jacob Davis is, I plan on tracking him down and having a conversation. For now, I close my eyes and rest my aching head. But I won’t give up until Adrian gets the redemption he deserves.
Tossing and turning, I watch the minutes tick off the clock. I’ve gotten so used to falling asleep in Adrian’s arms, I feel like my security blanket is missing.
After another half hour comes and goes, I climb out of bed and put some pants on. I gave it a solid effort, but the silence is suffocating me.
I’m not much better as I wait for a cab. Constantly checking over my shoulder to see who’s watching me, I must look like a crazy person. A dark shadow lurks behind the bushes on the other side of the street. I can’t see a face or tell if it’s a man or a woman. Judging by the height, it’s definitely a man. He doesn’t move or try to come closer, but I keep my eyes on him until the cab pulls up in front of the building.
The only words that come out of my mouth as I climb inside are, “Please hurry.”
When the driver responds, all the air escapes from my lungs. I’m positive I hear Brooks’s voice, but the eyes staring back at me in the rearview mirror aren’t his.
“Are you okay?” the driver questions as he pulls away from the curb, much slower than I’d like him to.
“I’m fine,” I tell him even though my hands are shaking. “It’s been a long night.”
He nods in understanding, not bothering to ask any more questions. I’m thankful.
Ten minutes later, I’m flashing my ID to the bouncer at the door. He checks it twice, eyeing me like I’m not who I say I am. My hair is longer than the girl in the picture, but my other features are all the same.
“I work here,” I tell him as I continue to fidget, hoping it speeds up the process. “My boyfriend, too.”
“Who’s your boyfriend?”
“Ad—Clay. He’s a bartender.”
The bouncer catches my almost slipup and narrows his eyes even more. “Are you high?”
“I don’t do drugs. I just really need to see my boyfriend.” I glance over my shoulder again, making sure the shadow didn’t follow me here.
“Why are you shaking? If you’re gonna come in here and shoot up, I can’t let you in.”
I’m so desperate, I push up my sleeves and show him my arms. “I don’t do drugs. My name’s Andi. If you ask your boss, he’ll tell you I start tomorrow.”
“Here?” he questions again.
“Here.”
Handing my ID back, he shrugs his shoulders as he says, “Don’t make me regret this. I’ll have someone watching you.”
He could send me inside with a police escort, and I’d probably thank him. At least then I wouldn’t feel so paranoid.
“Thank you.”
Adrian’s busy making a drink that he places in front of a leggy brunette who’s top heavy. She’s eyeing him like he’s dessert, and it annoys the hell out of me. This is what I have to look forward to. Almost every night of the week, I’m going to have to watch girls throw themselves at him.
But I soon realize he’ll have to deal with the same jealousy. I’ve been inside for all of two minutes, and there’s a warm body in my personal space. A body that smells like he consumed an entire bottle of Jack. I manage to dodge his advances and grab an open stool near Adrian.
He’s wiping down the bar, not looking, when he asks, “What can I get you tonight?”
I do my best to morph my voice into something Southern. “You, handsome.”
“Like I told everyone else tonight, I already have a girl.”
“She somethin’ special?”
When he looks up, the smile on his face tells me all I need to know.
His smile is quickly replaced with worry when he realizes whom he’s talking to. “What’s wrong, Andi?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to see you in action. But I liked your answer.”
He leans across the bar and kisses me, not caring who sees him. My cheeks flame crimson when he taps the bar top and wiggles his brows.
“Is that the same shirt? Because soaking you in whiskey is all I’ve been thinking about.”
Clay
“It’s the same shirt,” Andi replies once I pull my mouth off hers again, and I move back to my side of the bar. “I wore it just for you because I know how much you like it.”
“Stay there. Don’t move.”
I grind my teeth together and reach for a bottle of whiskey, setting it on the counter between us. The bottle is a promise. Andi’s eyes tell me she knows what that promise is, and the desire on her lips tells me she wants me to drown her in that booze.
Fuck.
It’s a good thing she came in toward the end of my shift, and I already have so much done. With her here, I can’t think about anything other than being inside her.
Prior to her walking in, I had a meeting with Dane, and he gave me a key to the bar. Now I’m responsible for locking up at the end of the night. Then, I found out about Russell’s other job. He’s the bouncer, and before the doors opened, I caught him working on some code. He said he dabbled in hacking. I told him I had some cash to spend if he was looking for a new customer. Someone needs to keep an eye on what Brooks is doing behind the scenes. Russell’s going to be that person. We swapped cell numbers and agreed to meet up tomorrow, so I can give him the details.
I take a drink order from the couple at the front of the bar, and I feel Andi watching me as I muddle some mint for their mojitos. As I glance up, her teeth bite into the straw of the margarita I made her. She’s wearing the same gloss that she had on earlier—that sparkly red shit that looked so good on her lips when they spread around my cock.
I wasn’t planning on fucking her when I got out of work tonight. I planned on going home and taking a long shower to rub one out while I pictured her mouth and those perfect goddamn lips and the head she gave me earlier today. But then I saw that T-shirt. The white one I told her I wanted to soak in whiskey. The one I want to suck her nipples through. And I can’t stop thinking about bending her over this bar and filling her with my cock. Something tells me she wore it for that exact reason.
Now that the crowd is beginning to thin out and Russell flicks the lights to let everyone know it’s last call, I’m not going to have to wait much longer to have her. A line forms at the bar, so I can pour them all a final round. As I grab the different bottles and shake the mixtures and cash out tabs, I know Andi’s eyes still haven’t left me. I feel the hungriness of her stare bore through my clothes. I feel it on my hands. Shit, I even feel it on my ass when my back is toward her.
She’s going to have plenty of time to take in my body when I’m naked and on top of her.
As I hand a girl some change and take another drink order, I notice a guy sit in the seat right next to Andi.
“Can I get you something?” he asks her.
“I’m good,” Andi answers.
“You’re looking real thirsty. Come on, let me buy you a drink, sweetness.” Then, the guy looks at me, cutting off the woman who’s in front of him. “I’ll take a vodka tonic and whatever this sweet one wants.”<
br />
The sweet one is Andi.
“Thanks, really, but I’m good,” Andi says.
“Don’t listen to her,” the guy says to me. “Pour her another of whatever’s in that glass.”
Unless she wants a second margarita, I’m not making her one. And she doesn’t; she told him that already.
I mix a vodka tonic and set it in front of him. “Here’s yours. She’s good.”
“She’s not good,” he says. “I told you to make her another drink.”
I try to keep my voice down, but I can’t hide the anger in my tone. “She told you she didn’t want one.”
“Don’t listen to her. I told you to pour her one. I’m the customer; do your fucking job.”
Don’t listen to her?
Andi has been around enough fucking men who don’t listen to her. I’m not one of them, nor will I ever be. And I sure as hell am not taking orders from a prepubescent-looking asshole who doesn’t have the strength to bench one of my thighs, whose pink polo is about to get wrapped around his tiny throat.
“She told you she’s good. Now, it’s time to back away. This is a warning; don’t make me tell you again,” I say. My tone, the look on my face, the way I grit my teeth all tell him I’m not playing around.
He has the balls to ignore me, moving his body so that he faces Andi, sitting even closer to her. “You’re really going to turn down a drink, sweetheart?”
This motherfucker.
I know I can’t bring too much attention to myself. Not when I’m trying to stay anonymous in this new city, not when I’m trying to keep this job. Not when plenty of people are looking for me and one very angry son of a bitch is looking for Andi.
But this guy isn’t backing away from her. He can disrespect me all he wants, but not Andi. That right there earns him a punishment.
I see that Russell is checking out the bar from the front entrance. I lift my arm into the air, grabbing his attention, and point down at the pint-sized cocksucker.
“Remember that warning I gave you?” I say, grinding my fingers against the edge of the well. I rub them hard enough to know blood is pooling at the top of my knuckles. “I wasn’t fucking around.”
He finally turns toward me. “What are you going to do? Throw water on me?”
“Nah,” Russell says, arriving just in time to hear the guy’s question, “water ain’t needed when you got a fist as big as mine.” Russell lifts the guy off the stool and holds the guy’s arms, so he can’t swing them.
“Get your hands off me!” the guy yells.
“Any requests, Clay?” Russell asks, ignoring the guy.
“Make him apologize to Andi.”
“For what?” the guy barks.
“For being an aggressive bastard,” Andi says, “and for not taking no for an answer.”
Damn, I love her mouth. And those lips.
When the guy doesn’t say anything, Russell holds him tighter. “Apologize to her. Don’t make me tell you again.”
“I’m sorry, shit.”
“Any other requests, Clay?”
I look down at Russell’s hand and nod, silently telling him what I want him to do. He appears to catch on and drag the guy out of the bar.
Once they’re gone, I jump over the counter and immediately have my hands around Andi. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me; don’t worry.”
I move my hands up to her face. “I wanted to kill him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. We both need this job.” She squeezes my fingers and points to the bar. “Go finish up, so we can get out of here.”
I jump back over the countertop and mix drinks for the last few people in line. Once all the tabs are cashed out, I flip on the lights, and everyone starts heading toward the door. The cocktail waitresses empty off the tables, and the barback finishes washing the dishes. I clear out the register and hand Dane all the cash and receipts before he leaves.
On his way toward the back room, Russell stops by the bar. “Black eye and probably a broken nose. He won’t be coming here again.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I say, pounding my fist against his.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He waves.
“Are we the only ones left?” Andi asks.
I nod.
Since I finished the inventory and consolidated all the bottles, I say, “I’m just going to grab my things. I’ll be right back.”
It only takes me a second to get my bag and hat from the back room and call a taxi company to pick us up in fifteen minutes. When I reach the main room, I stop in the doorway and look at Andi. She’s turned off all the lights, except for the row that shines directly over her and the bar top. Because of the direction she’s facing, I can only see her profile. Even that small amount of her face is so beautiful. She looks almost angelic with the white T-shirt and her hair softly framing her cheeks.
Maybe her appearance is angelic, but her mouth is naughty as fuck.
Naughty…and all mine.
I flip off the row of lights and follow the sound of her breathing. When I reach her, I move between her legs and jerk her ass to the end of the stool.
“Finally,” she whispers, “I have you all to myself.”
“If every night goes like tonight, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.”
The streetlamps let in just enough glow that I can see the outline of her face and the dark hair in her eyes. I brush it back with my fingers.
“He was harmless compared to what I’m used to.”
“He looked at you like he wanted to fucking eat you.”
She laughs. “Maybe he did.”
“I’m the only one who gets to eat you, Andi.”
My hand drops to between her legs, and I rub her pussy. I can feel its heat, even through the thickness of her jeans. When she moans, I push harder.
“And you’re so good at it.”
“I’m not even close to being done with it.”
“Adrian,” she breathes, “we’re not really going to do this here—”
I cut her off with my mouth, my tongue sliding through her lips and circling slowly around hers. Her back arches when I go for her nipples, pinching them between my fingers, working them until they poke through her shirt. When her legs wrap around me, pulling me into her, I then reach for the bottle of whiskey that I left on the bar.
“I keep my promises,” I tell her, tilting her neck, feeling the liquor rush over her.
She moans when my tongue touches her. “Oh my God.”
I pour more, angling the bottle, so the liquor runs past her shoulder and down her arm. My mouth follows each river, swallowing every bit that touches her.
She shivers as I flick my tongue over her collarbone. “It’s making my skin tingle.”
“I’m trying to lick it all before it soaks in.”
“I was talking about your tongue, Adrian.”
I finally move the bottle to the front of her and dribble some over her chest. Then, I lean over the bar and set it inside the well, so I can use both hands. I suck a nipple into my mouth while kneading the other. “I’ve thought about these all night.”
She writhes under my weight, her legs pulling me in even harder. “Do you want to know what I’ve thought about?”
I see the flash of lights outside and the yellow paint of the taxi. “I don’t want you to tell me, Andi. I want you to show me—but not here. I want you to show me at home. The cab just pulled up.” I tuck her hand inside mine and help her off the stool.
“I don’t know if I can wait until we get home.”
There’s that fucking mouth again.
She isn’t going to have to.
I lock the door behind us, and we climb into the backseat of the taxi. Fortunately, it isn’t a long drive to our place. Less than ten minutes when there isn’t any traffic, and there isn’t much tonight.
Andi sits in the middle seat and looks through the windshield. Catching her off guard, I slip my hand into the top of her jea
ns and use the other to undo the button and unzip her fly.
“Ad—Clay,” she whispers, holding my hand steady.
“You told me you didn’t know if you could wait. Move your hand, Andi. Let me touch you.”
She does as I asked, and I loosen the jeans just enough so that I can fit my hand down the front. Pressing my palm against her clit, I push two fingers inside her.
Her breathing immediately changes.
She squeezes my shoulder, her nails digging into my skin. It’s not to tell me to stop. It’s to tell me to keep going.
So, I do.
I dive in and out of her wetness, my palm gently grinding over her clit to give her just the amount of friction she needs.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, her other hand shoving against the window.
I lean into her neck and kiss the spot that I love, which is the curve right below her ear. It doesn’t matter how much whiskey has soaked in, I can still smell the buttercream on her skin. I can’t get enough of it. And I can’t get enough of her sounds or the way her pussy feels or how she bucks against my hand.
She’s seeking the release she knows I can give her.
As I push a little deeper, my palm circling faster, I feel her start to tighten. Her hips rock harder, and her teeth stab into her bottom lip.
My baby is so close.
I kiss up her neck and breathe, “Come for me,” into her ear.
A second later, she’s shuddering, her nails piercing my flesh, as her hips rock out the orgasm. Her hand slides down the window, leaving a river of droplets, just like the whiskey did on her body.
She finally slows and cuddles against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, not even wanting the air to touch her.
“I’m going to attack you when we get home,” she says.
That was what I wanted—to give Andi the control that I know she needs. She’s lost it for so long; I have a feeling she’s forgotten what it feels like. I never had any intention of taking the control away from her. Not in this taxi, not when my hands and mouth were on her body. I just want her to know what it feels like when someone worships her pussy.
But I’m not done worshipping it just yet. She might want to attack me, but my mouth still needs to be on her. I want to taste her wetness on my tongue, to feel it on my lips, to have it soak in my fucking beard.