by Marie James
“Hold up. You had a bar? I thought you’d just worked at another bar.” I lean up further in my chair, waiting for him to respond.
If he had his own bar that’s why he has been so efficient here. But why would he no longer have one? Poor management? Over spending?
“Yeah,” he says as he drops his head, his gaze focusing on his clasped hands in his lap.
“You just decided you didn’t want to fuck with owning a bar anymore?” I push. “I think I pay you pretty well but it’s nothing like owning your own bar.”
He chuckles and the sound is empty and painful rather than light and carefree, the way a laugh is supposed to sound.
“You hear about the bar a few years ago where a pissed off guy came back after being booted and killed a patron outside?” He raises his eyes and I can see pain in them.
I sigh loudly. “Yeah, I heard about it.”
“My bar,” he says and points his thumb at his chest.
“Shit,” I mutter. I couldn’t even imagine the fallout from something like that. The decrease in patronage if people were too afraid to go because of fear of harm. Nothing like a death on the concrete in front of your establishment that screams ‘it’s not safe here.’ It would be detrimental to a business.
He clears his throat, in an attempt to block the anguish that has just taken charge of his entire face. “My girl,” he whispers and I’m not sure I heard him right. It isn’t until I watch him wipe a lone tear from his cheek that I understand.
Not only had he possibly lost his business due to a violent act in front of his bar, but he lost his girl.
“Fuck.” I say and lean back in my chair again. That one word. That’s all I have. No idea what else I can say.
I give him a minute because it’s apparent he’s struggling with his composure. I don’t know exactly how he feels and what he’s been through but it takes me back to the minute I heard Ian over the phone tell me that Alexa had been shot and they didn’t know if she was going to make it.
It’s my turn to clear my throat as the memories of first seeing her in the hospital bed, covered in wires and tubes flash before my eyes.
“I’m so fucking sorry, man.” I finally manage to say to him. The words sound empty even though they are anything but.
He straightens in his chair and slaps his legs with his large hands, effectively shutting down the emotions.
“Hard thing to get over,” I tell him.
“Damn near impossible, actually.” He swallows roughly.
“Your girlfriend?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head slightly. “Wife,” he says softly. “My pregnant wife.”
I’m speechless. This man has suffered the most horrific pain imaginable. I wouldn’t step foot back in this club if it was linked to something as tragic as losing my Alexa and our child. She’d have to be willing to marry you and have a baby for that to even be a problem. I think almost bitterly.
“Impossible,” I say, confirming his earlier statement.
“Deep shit, right?” He says, attempting to shake off the darkness that is now sitting heavy in the air.
“Deepest,” I answer him. “Definitely explains why you never go after the hundreds of girls I’ve seen try to get you to go home with them.”
He chuckles again, sounding bitter. “Last thing I need is a bar whore.”
I nod my head in understanding. Most of the girls who come to the club and just throw it at a guy are not the type you want tainting the memory of your deceased wife. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to move on if I were in his situation. I’d probably just curl up and die.
“I have just started to see someone though.” I watch as his top lip curls into a small smile. “Her name is Jessica. We met at the coffee shop. Sweet girl. We’ll see where it goes.”
I grin back at him, encouraged at his change in mood. I feel like a total dick in here throwing a pity party for myself over some accounting issues and this guy is dealing with losing his wife and child; makes me a douche and an unappreciative bastard.
“Well let me know if you need a Saturday off to take her out. I know you’re here during ‘dating hours’.” I tell him with air quotes.
“Will do, man.” I watch as he stands and shake his hand when he offers it. “Back to the grindstone.” He says just before walking out and closing the door behind him.
I should take Ian’s direction and hire more people. I’d wanted to be completely hands on with this club, but my situation isn’t the same as it was months ago when we opened. Now all I can think about is going home to my girl who told me she had no plans today.
I push myself away from my desk and stand. Shutting down my computer that I never even used today, I glance at my watch. It’s still early afternoon and that leaves me with hours and hours to ravage my girl and even take her out this evening if that’s what she’d like to do.
***
Without fail the ever present shudder is there when I drive past the former liquor store that Alexa was at when she got shot. The feeling of unease seems more pronounced today after hearing Johnny’s story.
The building is unrecognizable now. Ian bought the place after he realized it was going into foreclosure and gifted it to Ben Williams’ wife. He paid for remodeling and she has turned it into a very lucrative Denver gift shop. I wonder if she has a sinking feeling in her gut every time she crosses the threshold into the building. I know I’ll never be able to step in there.
I shake my head clear of those thoughts as I pull into and park in the subterranean garage. I all but jump out of the SUV and sprint to the elevator bank, in a mad rush to get to my penthouse. I’m chastising myself for not grabbing a bottle of wine or a late lunch for us as I unlock the door to the large apartment.
I empty my pockets into the basket on the front entry table. I smile to myself because I know Alexa hates the damn thing. I may actually move it this weekend. Anything to make her happy. I frown as I step further into the apartment and see that the living room and kitchen are empty. I should’ve called her first before just assuming she wouldn’t find something to do, knowing I’d be at work again until late.
I kick off my shoes and scoop them up as I make my way to the bedroom. The door is shut which is odd, but I don’t falter in my steps until I hear a man’s voice, “Fuck, just like that! Suck it deep.”
My hand hesitates on the doorknob, because I know when I swing it open my life is going to change. I teeter on the edge of indecision; my broken heart throbbing painfully in my chest. “I’m close, bitch.” I hear the masculine voice say.
Two things happen at the moment. I’m suddenly angry that Alexa is doing this to me when she thinks I’m at work, but alternately I’m pissed at this man for talking to my woman like that.
Hatred over the cheating wins out and I swing the door wide. My shoes tumble from my hands just as “What the fuck, Alexa,” boils out of my mouth.
She squeaks loudly and tries to pull the sheets over her but it’s too late. She’s already been caught.
Chapter 11
Alexa
There are a million things going on at once. I’m shrieking like a crazy woman and trying to pull the damn covers over myself all the while Garrett is yelling at me. My cheeks, I’m certain are a hundred shades of red and the incessant moaning and rough commands from the TV aren’t helping my situation one bit.
Busted.
Garrett Hale just caught me flicking my bean. Most embarrassing moment of my life, ever.
I finally manage to get the covers pulled over me and look at him. I see a wash of relief come over his face before his mouth turns up in a salacious grin. Relief? What the hell is that about?
“Angel?” He says mockingly as he saunters towards the side of the bed. I watch, wordless, as he picks up the remote and powers off the TV just as the first squirt of the money shot flashes. I’m grateful the grunts and groans have been silenced. I was just as close to release as the guy on the screen but now my body is flushed with emba
rrassment and shame.
I hang my head as he sits beside my overheated body on the bed. He tilts my head up and forces me to look him in the eye. He’s told me more than once in the months that we’ve been together every one of my orgasms are his, so there is no telling how this is going to play out.
“I loved the sight of you when I opened the door and found you with your fingers deep in your pussy,” he whispers as an unnamed emotion sweeps over his face.
“Y…you’re not mad at me?” I stammer. I can’t tell if we are about to play or if this is a real conversation we are going to have. He likes keeping me on edge and if I’m being honest I love it too.
“Am I mad that I found you in here, alone, playing with yourself?” I flinch at the emphasis he places on the word alone but let it go when I see the smile in his eyes. “No, Angel. I’m not mad.” He sweeps a loose tendril of hair out of my face and moves it over my shoulder. “I’m more concerned.”
“Concerned?”
“Yes, Alexa. Seeing you in here pleasuring yourself makes me wonder if I’ve neglected you.” He pulls the sheets down from where I have them clutched at my breasts, exposing them. “Are you feeling deprived?”
I whimper when he gently tugs one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “Bored,” I manage to pant out. “I was bored.”
He hums in understanding. “I thought you were going to try out one of the books Lorali recommended.”
I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his large rough hands on my delicate flesh. “That’s the problem. I was reading Owned and it got me all hot and bothered. M. Never really knows how to write a sex scene!”
“Is that so?” He asks as he licks inside of my mouth with that wicked tongue of his.
I’m unable to answer with words seeing as how only moans and whimpers are coming from my mouth. He pulls away and watches my face with half-mast eyes.
“I didn’t come.” I feel the need to tell him that like it will make a difference. He’s being very gentle. The second he threw open the door I was sure I’d be tied up and spanked within minutes; punished for not listening to his orders about not masturbating. This is not what I was expecting.
“You didn’t?” he asks gruffly as he tugs the sheets completely free of my body.
I’m sitting Indian style so my sex is exposed to him and I grin as I notice the hungry look in his eyes.
“We need to remedy that. Don’t you think?”
I moan as he lowers his head; my eager body already anticipating the hot touch of his mouth. The amazing swipe of his tongue on my already puckered nipple is overwhelming and just that fast he has reignited my need to come and brought me to the edge I was about to teeter over when he caught me.
“I figured you’d punish me.” I say on a gasping breath as he nibbles my hardened bud.
He pulls his head away with a pop. “Believe me. I was going to do way more than punish you when I heard what was going on in this room before I opened the door.” That’s the look I was expecting. Anger. Just as fast as it makes itself known it is gone, replaced with a wicked grin. Oh boy.
I’m entirely vulnerable to him. I’m sort of a free spirit so I’d rather be wearing as little clothing as possible when it is allowed. So he has found me in our bed stark naked, wearing only finger and toenail polish. I have nothing to protect me against him. I have nothing slowing him down. No clothes to remove to give me more time to think of something. And honestly? I couldn’t be happier.
I don’t want to have to wait for him to undress me although he would either do it tantalizingly slow or he would rip the fabric from my skin. Now that I think about it, I don’t know if he’s ever let me undress for him unless he is controlling my movements with his commands.
My eyes flutter uncontrollably as he trails his fingers along the groove near the apex of my thighs, touching me everywhere but the exact dime-sized spot that I need him the most. This is his game. This is what he does to torture me further; his way of keeping all the power and controlling the situation. Garrett Hale, always in control.
“Please, Garrett,” I beg as he sweeps past my clit, purposefully avoiding it.
“Please?” He taunts seductively. “Angel, you are in no place to beg.”
He kisses my stomach, right at the exit wound from my shooting, his lips pausing longer than usual. His actions are in contradiction to his voice. He seems off somehow, like something isn’t quite right with him. Surely he’s not still concerned with the issues at the club. When he left earlier he was frustrated because there was a problem but he seems different now that he’s here.
“Haven’t I told you not to touch yourself when I’m gone?” He asks bringing me out of my thoughts of concern.
My body is thrumming and he’s toying with me. I love and despise him for it at the same time. I nod acknowledging that I’m well aware I’ve been told not to come unless he tells me I can. His thick thumb applies pressure an inch above my clit and he moves his hand higher on my stomach when I tilt my pelvis up, hoping to get contact. I groan my displeasure.
“How should I punish you?” He’s twisting both of my nipples with his hands and I can’t even think straight much less form sentences.
I feel him step away from me and I snap my eyes open. He’s two feet away from the bed, his arms are crossed at his chest, and he’s gazing down at me waiting for an answer. This is another one of his games. He knows how much I want his touch; need his touch. So periodically he denies it.
“Huh...what?” I have no idea what’s going on at this point. My body is screaming for release and my brain has focused its attention there rather than my mouth where I need it to be.
“How should I punish you for touching yourself?” He repeats each word slowly. He does it sarcastically but I’m actually grateful he slowed it down enough for my brain to grab hold of it.
“Make me come until I can’t walk?” I say with a sly smirk on my face.
“Or…not let you come at all,” he counters.
I gasp; one of my least favorite games of all. Surely he wouldn’t.
“You don’t like the sound of that it seems.” I’d like nothing more than wipe the smirk off of his face. I love being dominated by him but there are some days when I’d love nothing more than to control him, if only for an evening. It will never happen. He’d never give up his control in our bedroom.
I do the only thing I can think. I slide seductively off the bed and walk towards him with a deep swish to my hips. He notices and I grin internally. Not completely immune I see. I cut my eyes to the front of his slacks and see the beginning of the bulge straining there.
I stop just as I reach him. I can feel the whisper of his clothing against my bare skin. Seems I like torturing myself as well. I place my hands on his hard chest, loving the heat that is coming off of his body.
Suddenly he reaches behind me and grabs a handful of hair. I hiss not because of the small dart of pain but from the wetness that has suddenly slickened my thighs.
“What were you watching that was worth breaking my rules, Angel?” He demands in my ear.
“A blow job,” I answer truthfully.
“Just a blow job? I’d like to think I know you pretty well, Alexa and that doesn’t seem like enough to cause you to have three fingers plunged inside of you.” He’s always right. “What about it had you so turned on? Had your cheeks and breasts flushed and pink?”
My eyes had been closed briefly as he spoke in my ear but they open as I feel him pull his head away from me so he can see my face.
“He was fucking her face,” I inform him breathily shifting my body closer to him so I can feel his now rigid erection against my stomach. “He was so rough. She was gagging around it.” He closes his eyes on a long blink and I know he’s picturing me doing that to him. I move my head so I’m speaking in his ear. “It made me so fucking wet.” He groans. “I was almost ready for four fingers.” My body tingles when he growls at me.
“Down,” he hisses out as he use
s his hand tangled in my hair to push me to my knees. “Show me.” He bites out.
My pleasure.
I reach for the fly of his pants and waste no time unbuckling his belt, unzipping him, and pushing his slacks off his hips to pool at his feet. His thick, long cock nearly hits me in the face as it’s set free of the offending fabric. I have my mouth wrapped around the head before I can take a breath.
He only allows me a minute of licking and teasing his length before he’s stepping out of his slacks and spinning me around to the bed. Yes! Finally, he’s going to fuck me.
The clink of the buckle of his belt cause more juices to appear. I moan and wait patiently for him to slide inside of me.
“Hands, Angel.” It’s not a question; it’s a demand.
I pull my hands up and put them behind my back. In a flash my arms are restrained and I’m back on my knees with his cock in my mouth. I say in my mouth which really means he’s halfway down my throat and I love it. I’m gagging and there is enough slobber dripping from my chin to lube an orgy. He grunts every time he slides in and hits the back of my throat. I give in to him one hundred percent because I trust him emphatically and I know he won’t give me more than I can handle.
“Perfect,” he praises without slowing his deep thrusts. “I’m close, Angel.”
I choke even more when I try to grin at his words. They mimic the porn star from the video I was streaming only nurturing in a way and not derogatory like his use of bitch.
He thickens in my throat and just when I think he’s about to blow he pulls out, his harsh breaths coming in gusts as he tries to calm himself enough to keep the orgasm at bay. Just when I think he’s going to let me suck him off.
I’m gasping for air myself. My nerves are on end and my clit is throbbing. This is when he would normally pick me up, throw me on the bed, and slam into me. That’s not how it goes today. He doesn’t seem to have the patience. Instead he stalks behind me, pushes my face into the carpet, and slams into me.