Devil's Kiss

by Celia Loren

  Franchise hired a prospect named Avery at my recommendation as a barback, so that the bartenders could focus on actually serving drinks. Sharon, the other bartender, will be here a little late today because her kid has an afternoon baseball game, so I hope it doesn’t get too crazy until then.

  The insanity does hold off until several hours later, but by then the Black Rock is humming with music and bursting with people. West is over at the pool table on a team with King. I steal glances over at him when I can, checking up. In the week since we started sleeping together I haven’t seen him so much as flirt with any other girls. Not that we said we were going to be exclusive while Stick’s gone or anything, but, well, I guess I have been secretly hoping for it.

  Stacy leans on the bar in front of me, moodily stirring the ice around her glass.

  “Stacy, you have to try my drink special tonight. No vodka, I promise!” I say as I rub her shoulder with my hand.

  “Alright,” she agrees glumly.

  I quickly mix the drink for her and top it with a plump maraschino cherry. She takes a sip. “Hey, this is pretty good. You come up with this yourself?”

  “Yeah, Franchise is letting me do a new drink special every night. This one’s called The Chopper. It’s rum-based.” She takes a long sip through the straw, and I watch half of the liquid disappear. “Hey, now,” I caution her. “There’s a happy medium!”

  “It’s just, last time he called was yesterday afternoon,” she says, biting her lip.

  “I know,” I say, taking her hand. “West said he’s probably just busy, though. I’m sure everything’s fine. And he said that—”

  “You and West been talking a lot?” she breaks in, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “No! I mean, just—” I trail off as I see two men stand up from the couches across from the bar. The taller ones shoves the shorter one, who stumbles back. “Hold that thought, Stacy.”

  I hustle over to the end of the bar, grabbing a pool cue from the rack. I walk swiftly over to the couches, where the shorter man has just recovered and punched the taller one in the face. The tall guy pulls back and is about to land a blow himself, when I bring the cue down with a loud “whack!” on the table between them. They both jump, startled. I hold up the pool cue, brandishing it threateningly.

  “I don’t care what happened, just take it outside!” I yell. They both look at me, fuming. The taller one opens his mouth to speak, then his angry eyes flick to something behind me.

  “It’s all good,” the man says, turning to the shorter guy, “Right?”

  “Yeah,” the shorter one agrees, nodding. “Sorry, we’ll pay for these broken glasses.” They glance at each other, and warily sit back down on the couches. I wait for a moment to make sure they’ve really stopped fighting, then turn around and run right into the brick wall that is West. He smiles cockily down at me.

  “Oh, man. I thought it was me they were afraid of...” I say, disappointed.

  “You’re terrifying on your own, don’t worry. The pool cue was a nice touch. I was just your back-up, really,” he replies.

  “I’m sure,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Can I have the cue back now, please?” he asks.

  “Oh, sure,” I say, and hand it back over.

  “Oh, also, I’m going to need you to do something for me,” he says, his eyes dancing mischievously.

  “What? You need a drink?” I ask.

  “No...” he leans down and whispers in my ear. “I’m gonna need you to go to the bathroom, take off your panties, and bring them to me.”

  “West!” I exclaim, as I pull my head back, shocked. “I’m wearing a skirt!”

  “Look, you’re a great bartender, but no panties, no tip,” he says with a shrug, then walks back to the pool table.

  I stare at his back as he walks away, my mouth open. I know he’s joking about the tip, but I still find myself turning toward the bathroom, head down. I don’t like to be ordered around in life, but when West orders me around in the bedroom, I find it unbelievably hot. And he’s been introducing me to some things that I didn’t know were even out there. Like anal beads, for example. My stomach clenches in anticipation as I shut the stall door behind me. I felt the cool, hard plastic of the beads last night, with West’s promise that we would try them again soon. With only a two-week window to have sex, we have to progress quickly, after all.

  Pulling my black skirt up around my stomach, I slide my panties down around my heels, stepping out of them and snatching them up. Thank goodness I slipped into Victoria’s Secret and bought some cute stuff last week when Stacy and I went shopping. This pair is a black lace thong, with a small satin bow on the front band. I smooth my skirt back down and roll the panties up as small as I can in my hand, then step out of the stall and look in the mirror. I look normal, though perhaps a little flushed.

  I push the door of the ladies’ room open and walk back out towards the pool table. West is leaning on the wall, looking sexy in his white tee and jeans. He’s engaged in a conversation with Five, one of his brothers. I walk up to West’s side and clear my throat.

  “Excuse me, is there anything I can get for you gentleman?” I ask, overly politely. West smiles at me. I press my hand with the panties against his free hand at his side. I feel him take them from me and stuff them into his jeans pocket.

  “Five, you need anything?” West asks him.

  “I’m good,” Five says.

  “We’re all set, thanks, Olive,” West says to me with a shit-eating grin.

  “Great. Good to know,” I say, returning his smile.

  I walk back to the bar, hyperaware of everything south of my waist now. I cautiously duck under the bar again and return to where Stacy is emptying her glass.

  “Sorry about that,” I say. “Do you want a water?”

  Stacy shrugs disconsolately, which I take as a yes. I see two guys headed toward us as I scoop some ice into a glass for her. They take a seat next to Stacy at the bar and beckon me over.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask.

  “Two IPAs. Whatever’s on tap,” the bearded one says. His friend smiles at Stacy. I get the feeling they already decided who was going to talk to whom before coming over. I pour the two IPAs for them and the first guy hands me a card.

  “I’ll open a tab,” he says. “I’m Nick, by the way.”

  “Nick. Nice to meet you,” I say as I run his card. “I’m Olive. This is my friend Stacy. She’s disappointed because her boyfriend’s out of town.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Nick says consolingly, though his friend looks a little disappointed to hear she has a boyfriend. I smile politely at him, then glance over to the pool table just in time to see West bending over some girl to give her a couple tips on her pool game. A rush of jealousy heats my face as I watch him run his hand across her body to adjust the angle of her arm.

  “How about a couple shots for you guys, on the house?” I offer. “I think it’s a little too quiet in here.”

  “Hell yes!” Nick says. I smile at him. He is rather cute, with a sandy blonde beard and a close-cropped haircut.

  “And one for me too!” Stacy chimes in.

  “You finish that water, and then we’ll talk,” I tell her.

  I pour three shots of whiskey for me, Nick, and his friend. We clink the glasses together and toss them back, Nick keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I grab the beer I keep behind the bar and take a long sip to chase the burning feeling in my throat.

  “You can’t have been working here long,” Nick says. “Brian and I must’ve been in here a month or two ago and didn’t see you.”

  “Month and a half. Right after Lisa broke up with me,” Brian adds a little sadly.

  “Oh no! You got broken up with?” Stacy asks tipsily.

  “Oh, yeah. Big time.” Soon Brian is spilling the details of his broken heart to her while she makes sympathetic clicking noises with her tongue.

  “Man, I’m glad he found someone else to talk to a
bout her. He’s been talking my ear off about it for weeks,” Nick says to me, sipping his beer.

  I lean on the bar and take a swig of my own beer. I notice a large bandage wrapped around his hand and lightly touch his fingers. “What happened here?”

  “Oh, I’m a welder,” he tells me. “Had a little accident in the shop the other day.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope,” I say.

  “Not for a big, tough man like me,” he says with a smile, and I guffaw. “What about this one?” he asks, taking my hand and turning it over, pointing to the jagged scar I have on the underside of my forearm.

  “Fell out of a bed,” I tell him.

  “Sorry?” he blinks.

  I giggle at his surprised expression. “Oh, nothing that interesting. I was seven, and I was at my friend’s house for a sleepover and she had a bunk bed, which I think is pretty much the coolest thing you can have as a kid, right?”

  “Oh, definitely,” he agrees.

  “Well, I insisted on sleeping on the top bunk, and it was one of those old wooden ones, you know?” I go on, “And I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and slipped going down the ladder, and cut my arm on a loose piece that was sticking out. Five stitches.”

  “Eight for me,” he says, indicating his hand.

  “Eight? Oh man, that deserves another shot,” I say with a smile, grabbing the whiskey again. I look to Brian and Stacy, but they’re deep in conversation, so I just pour out a couple shots for Nick and myself. We knock them back and Nick looks around.

  “You, uh, ever have a problem with all the bikers in this place?” he asks, head bent forward.

  “Nah. My brother, her boyfriend,” I indicate Stacy with a nod of my head, “he’s one of them, so they don’t give me much trouble.” I see West walk slowly toward the bar over Nick’s shoulder. “Except this one. He is a real pain in the ass.”

  West stops several feet down the bar from Nick and beckons me with a small movement of his head. I bristle a little at his assumptive air, but walk slowly over to him.

  “Meet me in the women’s bathroom in five minutes,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Just do it,” he growls at me, then walks away.

  I walk back to Nick, who looks slightly alarmed at the size and rugged appearance of the biker that was just talking to me.

  “Friend of yours?” he asks.

  “I have no idea,” I tell him honestly. I take a few more sips of beer, then excuse myself and duck under the far end of the bar again, carefully holding down my skirt as I do. I give a little wave to Sharon as I go, to let her know I’ll be right back. What does West want now? Maybe to give my underwear back?

  I weave through the crowd and push the bathroom door open. West is already inside, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed. Without saying anything, he crosses behind me to the door and throws a bar across it, locking anyone else out. I back into the middle of the room as he turns to face me.

  “While you’re with me, you’re mine. No flirting with other men,” he hisses. I’m taken aback by the aggressive tone of his voice, and his choice of words.

  “While I’m with you?” I ask, crossing my own arms across my chest.

  “You know what I mean,” he says gruffly.

  “Fine,” I say sharply, “Then the same goes for you, then. No flirting with other women, OK?”

  He pauses, glowering at me. “Fine,” he finally agrees, his expression lightening just a bit.

  “We done here?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

  “Not so fast,” he says, a slight smile playing across his lips. My heart rate quickens a little at the glimmer in his eye. He slowly unbuckles his belt, walking toward me. I back up until I feel the cool metal of the bathroom stall behind me. West looms over me, and I can feel desire welling up inside me, just at his mere proximity.

  “I know you’re a working woman, so I’m not going to waste any time,” he whispers, his eyes flashing. His lips are quickly on mine, his tongue inside my mouth, working my jaw open. “Spread your legs,” he orders, breaking away from our kiss.

  I comply immediately, and he thrusts two fingers inside me. I cry out as I feel him inside me. I’m amazed by how wet I am already at his sudden touch. I reach forward and catch the waistband of his jeans, slipping my hand inside and finding his huge cock already erect—just waiting to be released.

  Gently pulling that gorgeous length out of West’s jeans, I stroke it with my eager hands as a groan rises from the back of his throat. I brush my fingers around his tip and feel a drop of pre-cum. I press my palm into it and spread it around the rest of his head. I move a hand down to his balls, cupping them gently. His cock is hard, and pulsating in my hands.

  I keep my hands on his cock as he tears the foil of a condom. As soon as it’s on, he bends down and pulls my skirt up around my waist, immediately picking me up. Before I know what’s happening, he’s lowering me onto his dick, and I moan with pleasure as he fills me up inch by inch.

  He easily guides me up and down on his cock, my back steadied against the stall. I feel his hands firmly grasp my ass, holding tight. His pace is fast and unrelenting, his eyes half-lidded as he thrusts inside me over and over. I close my eyes and concentrate only on the feeling of his dick inside me. I grit my teeth, trying to make this feeling last as long as I can. But the elicit nature of our meeting and his expertise soon overwhelm me. I try to keep my cries quiet as I come.

  West is right there with me, and I can hear him groaning under the sound of the music blasting on the other side of the door. With a final slam, he pushes me against the stall. I curl my legs more tightly around him and he leans against me to support himself as we catch our breath.

  Finally, he steps back and moves his hands to the small of my back. I slowly slide off him and he sets me on the floor, then tosses the condom into the trash. He reaches into his pocket and hands me my balled up black panties with a smile. I have the urge to step into the stall to pull them back on, but I guess that would be silly, considering what just happened between us. I carefully step back into them and pull them up. I step toward the mirror and smooth my hair, wiping a bit of smudged mascara out from under my eye. Behind me, I see West zip up his fly.

  I turn to slide the bar off the door when I feel West’s hand on my upper arm, stopping me. I pause and look at him questioningly. To my surprise, he steps toward me and wraps his hands around my back, slowly leaning in to kiss me on the lips. I smile up at him and he smiles back, reaching around me to unlock the door.

  “Ladies first,” he says. I nod and walk back into the crowded area. I look around as I make my way back to the bar and stop short as I see a figure move across the room. My heart starts pounding in my ears.

  Was that Richard?

  The curve of the nose was his, and the chin...But it’s hard to see in the dark, and the man I spotted wore a baseball cap and turned away as soon as I looked at him. I glance around frantically, trying to spot him again, but whoever it was has disappeared. He wouldn’t be so crazy as to follow me all the way out to Vegas...right?

  I feel a hand on my back and jump.

  “You OK?” West asks, looking worriedly down at me.

  “Yeah,” I smile nervously up at him. “Just thought I saw a ghost.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Olive

  I take a deep breath as I survey the view from the Pine Creek Overlook. West brought me out here this morning for a hike. I thought I was in good shape, but he sets a fast pace, and I’m totally winded.

  It is fascinating to walk with him, though. His experience in the Marines trained him in desert survival, and he’s been telling me about all the plants that we’ve been passing, and what they can be used for. He’s standing next to me now, and takes an aluminum water bottle out of his pack and passes it to me. I take a long, grateful swig.

  “Look!” he says quietly. I look in the direction he’s pointing and see several beige shapes moving along the edge of the cliff
. “Bighorn sheep. The males are the ones with the big, curved horns, and the females have the straighter horns.”

  He wraps his arm around my shoulders as we watch them move along the canyon. Eventually they walk out of sight, delicately finding their way across the rocky terrain. I lean back against West, smelling his sweat and the fresh air. I feel so...normal. Good normal. But Stick texted yesterday to let us know he’d be back soon, so this can’t last much longer.

  As if reading my thoughts, West drops his arm and nods back toward the trail, indicating that we should head back. I fall into step next to him, though three of my strides probably equal two of his. When we reach more rocky parts of the trail, he steps ahead of me to find the best footing, then turns and points out to me where to step, occasionally offering his hand when I need it.

  He points to the side of the trail and raises his eyebrows questioningly. Before, I would have described the tangle of branches we’re looking at as weeds, maybe shrubs, but now I decisively say, “Desert willow.”

  West nods happily. I laugh and take his hand—he looks so proud of me. It’s true that I lived in Vegas for many years without really experiencing any of the natural areas surrounding it.

  “So, do you think you’ll be able to see Davis while he’s in town?” I ask, referencing a guy from his unit that he said was visiting soon.

  “Hopefully. It’ll be strange to see him out of that context, I think. I hope he doesn’t just want to hit the casinos. Did I ever tell you about when he...?”

  The rest of the way down the canyon, he tells me stories about the guys he served with until I have a clear picture of each one in my mind. By the time we reach the dirt parking lot, my shirt is completely sweated through. I pull it off and use it to wipe the sweat and dust from the rest of my body.

  West has pulled off his own shirt off and starts the Tahoe without climbing in so that we won’t get blasted by hot air from the air conditioner. Once we feel it cooling off, we each get inside and shut our doors. The cold air pumping in rushes over my damp sports bra and I shiver a little as we pull onto the highway. West shuts off the AC and we open the windows, feeling the breeze hit our faces. I crank up the radio and loudly sing along to the Led Zeppelin song that’s playing.