His eyes were scorching, running down my mostly bare body. I stepped toward him, pushing his underwear down his legs. His erection bounced free. I was right, probably a seven. But let's see what he could do with it.
He bent down and kissed me again, wrapping me in his arms. "Will you suck my dick, Sweetness?"
I glanced up at him, slightly shocked by his question. He seemed like he really wanted that. "I would love to," I answered, pushing him slowly back toward the bed. I watched his eyes light up as he sat, shifting himself back onto it.
I climbed up, situating myself between his legs. I kissed his stomach first, grabbing him in my hand. My kisses moved south, until I brought him into my mouth. I usually didn't do this, but he had seemed so sad when he asked me, he actually made me want to do this for him.
"Aw fuck, Sweetness. You're fucking great," he groaned. I tried to contain my smile as I bobbed up and down on top of him. He ran his hand through my hair, showing his appreciation. I took him deeper and deeper, feeling him against the back of my throat.
"Sweet girl, climb on top of me and fuck me," he moaned. Yes, that's what I like to hear. I quickly followed his instructions, positioning myself over him.
"Do you have a condom?" I whispered.
Panic flashed across his eyes. "Ah, fuck, I don't! I haven't used one in forever!"
I bent forward and kissed him. "Don't worry, I've got us covered."
I watched the relief wash over his face as I slipped off the bed, rummaging through my jeans pocket. I quickly retrieved one, climbed back up, and unwrapped the package. I grabbed him in my hand, watching his face scrunch up with pleasure as I rolled it over him. I pushed myself up on my knees, and guided him to my opening. My muscles clenched as he started to fill me. I let out a soft moan as I began to rock my hips. His hands reached around me, resting on my ass, assisting me to rock faster, harder. It felt really fucking good, but I knew I wouldn't be able to come without a helping hand. I reached behind me, sliding one of his hands around to my clit.
"Touch me there," I moaned. He pressed me, moving his fingers in circles. It felt good... but not great. Damn it. That was the one plus side of being in a relationship: being with someone that knew your body well enough to make you come quickly. I placed my hand back on top of his, pressing his fingers into me exactly where I wanted it. Yes, that's it.
I ran my other hand up my body, playing with my breasts as my tempo increased. "You like that?" he grunted.
"Oh yes, just like that," I moaned. I really did like it. I felt my orgasm approaching quickly.
"You're gonna make me come, Sweetness!"
"Oh, come with me!" I cried out, my muscles clenching around him and spasming with pleasure. I could feel him throbbing beneath me as he unloaded himself. I bent forward over him, trying to catch my breath.
He grabbed my head, sealing his lips with mine. It was actually kind of a sweet kiss; I needed to stop it immediately. I pulled back, giving him a small smile, then rolled off. I lay, staring up at the ceiling, listening to his ragged breathing.
He rolled his head to look at me. "Fucking incredible," he laughed.
I giggled. "Glad you thought so." I brought my hand up my body, skimming over my hot skin. "Well, should we call me a cab then?"
I could go either way. I had no problem spending the night, but I would always be the one to suggest leaving.
He turned his whole body toward me and propped his head in his hand. His other hand came up to my face, brushing my hair back. "I'd love it if you stayed."
His eyes were earnest and sweet. I should probably go, I thought, but I was actually really comfortable. And if I left in the morning while he was still asleep, it could be less awkward than waiting for a cab to arrive now.
"Ok, I'll stay," I smiled.
I turned the final corner, my apartment building coming into view. I sprinted the last leg, arriving at the door completely out of breath. I bent in half, resting my hands on my knees. I didn't remember him telling me he was married or seeing a ring. Would that really have changed my mind though, if he had? Whatever, I'd had fun. Overall, I'd give Mr. Blonde a solid eight for the night.
I adjusted my Bag on my shoulder, entered the lobby, and made my way to my door. My breathing finally recovered as I entered my tiny apartment, switching on the light in the kitchen. I immediately reached up to my cabinet, bringing down a bottle of tequila and a shot glass. I poured the liquid in, tossing it back in my mouth. I shuddered, and poured another. Without hesitation, I drank that shot, and dropped the glass in the sink. I made my way to my bedroom, stripping off my clothes. I'll shower later, I thought, climbing under my blankets and going back to sleep.
Chapter 2
The Previous April
"I think that's the last of it," I said, setting the heavy brown box down in the living room. I looked around at the stacks of boxes piled up in the small plain white room. Correction: the carpet was tan. The most color in the room was tan carpet. This place needed decorating, asap.
My sister Carrie stepped over to me, brushing her dark brown hair out of her face and resting her hands on my shoulders. I had a hard time meeting her happy brown eyes. Of course her eyes were happy, she was married to what seemed to be the perfect guy. "Are you sure you're going to be ok?" she asked, squeezing me gently.
I briefly looked at her, then had to focus my eyes elsewhere. They landed on a box labeled "Kitchen." It bothered me that the lines making up the "K" weren't all connected. "Yes. I'm fine. Really."
She forced my face to look at hers. "Are you sure? It would be ok if you're not. More than ok. Do you want me to stay and help you unpack?"
As much as I adored my big sister, I really just wanted to be alone. "No, I'm good. I actually have an interview with a bar in a couple hours. I should probably shower. If I could find the box of towels, that is. Thank you for all your help."
She smiled at me. "You're welcome. Anytime." She dropped her hands from me and pulled out her phone. "Ok, well I'll head back then. Good luck with your interview."
"Thanks. Text me when you get home. It's a long drive back." I started walking with her to the door.
"I will. Love ya, Shannon." She wrapped me in her arms, causing my chest to tighten. I needed her to leave now.
"Love ya too. Safe drive."
She gave me a feeble smile as I shut the door. All that was left was silence. I stood in place for a few moments. Maybe if I didn't turn around and see my stuff in a new unfamiliar place, this wouldn't be real. Maybe, if I stood here staring at the stark white door long enough, I could be transported back to my apartment I shared with Josh in Minneapolis. I blinked away the forming tears, sighing. I needed to stop crying; I didn't want my eyes to be puffy for my interview.
I slowly turned back to the living room, running my fingers under my eyes. I stepped over to the boxes. Where do I even begin? My hands rested on a box labeled "Decorations, etc." Yes, this could be good. I needed this place to feel more like "me." I found my scissors, tearing down the center of the tape. I cringed as I tore the box open, hearing the tape rip away from the cardboard. It was a few seconds of grating noise followed by absolute silence. All it did was remind me I was alone. Inside, sat my throw pillows and other knick knacks. I hadn't packed this one, Carrie must have. I reached in, smiling.
I pulled out the pink and purple pillows, setting them on the cream-colored couch. There, that's much better already. I kneeled back down, bringing up the items one at a time. Photographs in frames of my sister and me, my friends from high school, my parents. I lined them along the empty book shelf in the corner. Perfect.
I maneuvered back to the open box, my heart sinking when I saw my photo albums. I thought I had gotten rid of this one. Carrie must not have known what it was when she packed it. It was from my bridal shower, also known as the worst day of my life. I quickly picked it up and headed out the door. I followed the hallway to the back of the building, threw open the exit door, and tossed the book in the dumpster. W
hat a fitting place for it, I thought.
Ok, enough unpacking. I wasn't prepared to find any more surprises without a few drinks in my system. I stepped back inside, finding my way to my door. I searched through the boxes, quickly finding the one labeled "Bathroom," and cut into it with my scissors. I grabbed the purple towel setting on top and walked the few steps to the bathroom. Oh yeah, I don't even have a shower curtain up yet. I knew I didn't have time to go shopping for one, so I just turned on the faucet, then lifted the button for the shower. The water came pouring out pitifully; I guess I don't have to worry about it splashing over the side, I thought.
I quickly showered, trying not to notice the lack of water pressure or the lack of anyone I knew living close to me, and wrapped myself in my towel. Luckily, I had already hung my clothes up in my closet, so nothing I picked out would be wrinkled. I walked over to it, running my fingers over my shirts. I settled on a bright blue tee shirt that accentuated my chest and dark jeans. I hoped it would be appropriate; I wasn't exactly sure what this new bar was going to be like. I slipped on my wedge heels after blow drying my hair, and headed out the door.
It definitely didn't feel like April in Minnesota. The sun was shining, warming my skin. I climbed in my car, typing in the address to Johnny B's bar in my phone. I was lucky to have found the job opening; I needed some form of cash flow fast. I had tried to learn more about the bar, but there was no website. I hoped it would be a busy place where I could meet people and make money. All this sulking alone by myself was bullshit. I needed to hold my head up and move on.
The bar was only about a mile away. I maneuvered through traffic and luckily found a spot in front. Four o'clock on a Saturday, I was sure it wouldn't be very busy at this point. I nervously pushed open the front door, stepping into what seemed to be a pretty casual place, with typical bar decorations: neon beer signs, big screen TVs, etc. I also noticed several family pictures dotting the walls. That man must be Johnny, I thought.
"Hello there," called a man, walking out from a back room.
"Hi, I'm Shannon Pratt. I have an interview at four."
The gray-haired man stepped toward me with a smile. "Hi Shannon, I'm Johnny. And this is my place," he said, waving his hand around.
I smiled back. He seemed like a genuinely sweet man. "Looks great."
He took my hand in his, shaking it. "Well why don't we have a seat and we can get started."
"Ok," I said. "Lead the way."
We walked over to one of the high top tables in a corner. I climbed up onto a tall wooden stool, still trying to figure out what I thought of the place. There was a young, pretty brunette already working behind the bar. She seemed cute enough and didn't have a resting bitch face. Maybe we could be friends. A couple of men sat separately at the bar, watching the Twins game playing above.
My attention snapped back to Johnny. "So Shannon, tell me a little about yourself." He sat back, relaxed, crossing his arms.
I hated interviews. Especially when they had open ended questions like that. There was a lot I could tell him, but I didn't want to spill my guts about my recent breakup with my potential new boss.
"Well, I'm new to the area, just moved here today as a matter of fact."
His eyebrows raised slightly. "Oh yeah? What brings you here?"
I pinched my arm under the table, trying to create a physical pain to distract myself from the emotions building up inside. I really didn't want to talk about this.
"Oh, just wanted a fresh start. I didn't realize the size of Forrester; it's bigger than I had imagined," I answered, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.
He brought his hand to his chin. "Yeah, it's decently sized. There are definitely bigger and more popular bars than mine, that's for sure. What makes you want to work here?"
I paused, considering my answer. Why did I want to work here? It's not what I had originally pictured for myself. I had envisioned more of a club scene with dancing and music thudding so loud you could feel it in your chest. But I suddenly felt like this was home, like I was meant to end up here.
"Well, I can see family is important to you," I said, motioning at the pictures. "And I feel like that would be a good thing for me, to be in an environment like that." I suddenly really hoped I would get the job.
He smiled, then sighed. "Yes, family is important. Unfortunately, the people in these pictures are not near here. My son lives in Arizona with his wife and kids, and my daughter is in North Carolina with her family." He took a brief pause. "And my wife passed away about two years ago."
Oh my god. "I'm so sorry to hear that," I said softly.
"Well thank you. It's been tough, but opening up a bar had been a little dream of ours. So, here I am," he smiled.
My heart tightened in my chest. "Well the reason I needed a fresh start was because my fiancé broke off our engagement two months before the wedding," I blurted out. The words vacated my mouth before I could stop them. But it felt good sharing my pain with him after what he felt brave enough to share with me.
His blue eyes softened. "I'm sorry about that."
I shrugged. "What can you do? Just pick up the pieces and move on."
He sat back further in his chair, crossing his arms. "Yep, and move to a new city and start a new job?" he grinned.
What did he mean by that? I looked uncertainly at him. "Does that mean I have the job?"
"If you want it."
I bounced in my seat and clapped my hands. "Oh my gosh, yes! Thank you!"
He chuckled, extending his hand. I took it excitedly. "Welcome aboard, Shannon."
I was ecstatic. I had a job with a man who seemed to be a great guy for a boss. I had my own little apartment that just needed a little TLC and decorating to make it mine. But most importantly, I had the opportunity to start over. I resolved I would never be fooled or taken advantage of again. Fuck relationships.
After I left the bar, I didn't feel like going back to the empty apartment. I needed a drink, and I didn't want to be alone while imbibing. Plus I was starving, and I hadn't gone grocery shopping yet. I meandered down the streets, without any defined objective, taking in the new sights. There were a lot of cute boutiques and restaurants. Ooh, there was a Mexican one up ahead. Somberitos. That looked promising. I pushed open the heavy glass door; the volume of the music inside caught me by surprise. I stood and waited at the unoccupied host’s desk. I grabbed the strap of my purse that crossed my body, leaning my neck forward and looking side to side to see if anyone was going to help me. I began to tap my foot impatiently.
"Ah, how may I help you?" asked a man with slicked back hair, coming towards me.
I smiled. "Um, just one for dinner," I said, holding one finger in the air.
"Just one? Would you like a booth? Or a seat up at the bar?"
I tried to smile through his "just one" comment. "The bar would be great," I replied.
He grabbed a menu from his stand. "Right this way."
I followed him to the back of the restaurant, taking a seat on a high top wooden chair. There was no one else seated there; I hoped the seats would fill up as it got a bit later. Maybe they would fill up with someone I could perhaps spend the night with? An excitement ignited in my belly at the thought.
"What can I get for you?" asked the bartender, stepping over to me. He was cute enough, with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a tight black tee shirt. But I wasn't really feeling it.
I picked up my menu, trying to scan the options quickly.
"What do you recommend?" I asked.
He smiled, pointing down at my menu. "The queso burrito is a fan favorite."
"Alright, I'll have that then," I grinned.
"Ok, and to drink?" he prodded.
Hmm, good question. I had recently added some drinks to my repertoire, but I was hating all the extra calories. And since I was already eating a burrito covered in cheese, I needed to cut back somehow.
"Um, is there any skinny version of a margarita? Like with l
ess calories?" I asked.
He snickered, then turned his back, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the shelf. Ok, well that was kind of rude. He spun back around to face me, setting down a shot glass on the counter. He grinned, leaning up against the wood.
"Want to get drunk without calories? This is how you do it." He grabbed a lime wedge, setting it on the rim of the glass.
I looked down at the brown liquid apprehensively. Ugh, straight tequila? I had never tried it, but I couldn't imagine it tasting that great.
"Here, come on, it's on the house," he insisted, gesturing his hand at the glass.
Well I couldn't really argue with that. I picked it up, removing the lime and holding it in my hand. I looked up at the bartender's grinning face as I slammed the shot back, coughing and gagging until I bit down on the lime.
He started laughing as he cleared away the glass. "Not a fan?" he asked.
I sat there, trying to suck out any remaining juice to clear the taste of the liquor from my mouth. It hadn't been that bad. And if it could get me numb...
I grinned at him. "I think I'll have another."
********
August
The music of my alarm invaded the dream about tugboats I was having. I groaned, peeking one eye open. My arm slipped out from my blankets, effectively shutting off the alarm. Three o'clock, time to get ready for work.
I pushed the blankets back, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I had a dull ache in my head. How late had I stayed up with Mr. Blonde? I tried to rub the tired from my face, standing up and walking to the bathroom. I turned the water on for my shower. I felt slightly sticky and gross having gone to bed after running four miles without showering. I glanced at myself in the mirror, then quickly looked away and stepped under the hot water.
As I shampooed my hair, my mind traveled to thoughts of the night before again. I kind of wanted to Google Mr. Blonde, maybe find out his name. I knew exactly where he worked and his job title. No, I told myself. One night. That's it.
Finally, You (The Finally Book Duo 2) Page 2