by KB Winters
How could she stand there and joke about muscles and lemon slices when I caught her, my employee, fingering herself right before work?
“Yeah,” I grunted, sounding a lot like our resident grumpy asshole, Gunnar.
Her smile slipped just a little but I could see in those big brown eyes that she wanted to talk. About something and I had a damn good clue what.
“Listen, Saint, we should—”
“No. We shouldn’t. There’s no need to talk about anything.”
All of a sudden I was acting like a pearl-clutching prude and that pissed me off. I was a goddamn soldier, made of tougher stuff than a sexy masturbating woman.
Hazel laughed at me for a moment before her expression sobered and she crowded my space. How the hell someone so small could invade my space and make me feel trapped, I had no goddamn clue, but the little pixie managed it.
“I’m Hazel and I like orgies,” she blurted out. “Actually I like all manner of fucked up fucking, mostly watching, but occasionally joining in because it helps me relax and deal with my shit. Problems or questions?”
Her tough girl attitude and direct words made me like her even more, goddammit. A reluctant smile spread across my face because the only question I wanted to ask—how often and can I join in? But it was highly fucking inappropriate.
“Your sex life is your business, Hazel. Not mine.” Even though parts of me wanted to make it my business. Right here in this dark, cramped room.
“It is my business,” she agreed, crossing her arms once again over her chest without realizing just how mouthwatering it made her tits look. Soft creamy swells of flesh pushed up and out, making it hard to look at anything else, though her miles of legs were a tempting sight on their own.
“But I’m not ashamed, so if you want to say something speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Forever?” I quirked a questioning brow at her, feeling humor tugging at my mouth.
“Forever,” she confirmed and took another step closer until hard peaks brushed against my chest. Hazel stepped back and I took the opportunity to make my escape, reaching behind me for the knob only the damn thing cracked me in the base of my spine.
“Shit!” The next few seconds unfolded in slow motion. I fell forward with Hazel right in my path and reached out to grab her, my hands somehow finding her slender waist as I continued to stumble forward until she was smashed between me and a shelf filled with napkins, towels and buckets of cocktail garnishes.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” Her words came out breathless and warm against my skin, big brown eyes flecked with flakes of green stared up at me, dilated and full of desire. Her pulse raced at the base of her throat and her tongue slicked across full, red painted lips. Those damn nipples, hard enough to cut glass, dug into my ribs with every shallow breath she took.
My cock was hard as steel and pressed against her thigh and any hope I had that she hadn’t noticed, died with that self-satisfied smirk she wore.
“Sorry about that.”
Her smile widened and Hazel, the tease, licked her lips once again.
“Don’t be. I’ll be at the bar,” she said and walked away with, I swear, an extra swing in her step.
When Hazel was out of sight, I went in search of a private spot to relieve the ache in my cock.
Chapter Eight
Hazel
Holy shit. I just had a moment. With my boss. An honest to goodness, hot as fuck, wet my panties and make me think about letting him tie me up and fuck me until I squirted all over the place, moment. Shit.
It was hot as fuck and now I couldn’t stop thinking about it because it proved one thing. I hadn’t been sure when I started this job, if Saint was more of a sinner than he pretended to be. Up close, he was hotter and more masculine than meek. Strong. Dark. Intense. He was a walking, talking temptation and that just wouldn’t do.
Saint was my boss and mixing business with pleasure was a recipe for disaster. Girls like me always lost out when sexy times happened at the office. Right now I needed this job more than I needed a good hard fuck. Which was too bad, because after the show in the room before work, I really needed a good hard fuck. Unfortunately, this job garnered hundreds of dollars of tips for nothing more than smiling while showing skin and whipping up overpriced cocktails.
God bless Texas!
Fucking, however, did not garner such tips.
Maybe it did, but times weren’t that hard. Yet.
Dammit!
***
The super sexy moment with Saint had kept me good and horny for days. Days upon days, which made my shifts at The Barn Door long and painful. Agonizing, even. I’d spent the past few days staying out of his way and making sure he stayed as far away from me as possible. Being stuck at a twelve-foot-long bar, wasn’t anyone’s definition of space and every night I’d spend a good hour with my vibrator. Moaning and thrashing over images of my boss and coming until I was too tired to do anything but drift off to sleep.
Rinse and repeat. All night, he riled me up without doing or saying anything, just his look and his scent. Fuck! And that dark stare that saw everything but said nothing. Today though, I was determined to change things. To swing the odds in my favor.
I knew from those lingering looks that Saint wanted me. He might not want to want me, but he did. His eyes didn’t lie and neither did the bulge in his fucking pants, and that was what gave me hope. Not in a realistic way, of course. I was far too cynical to have any actual hope, but those looks gave me just enough hope to leave my panties at home when I left for today’s shift.
That was what this was all about. Saint had some kind of invisible pull, invisible control over my body, and I needed to overcome it. To power through it so things could get back to normal. So I skipped going to the club on my last night off, opting for another night with a vibrator and my favorite porn stars because there was no fucking way I’d get off to images of Saint.
Again.
I took a deep breath and smoothed damp hands over my postage stamp denim skirt and stepped inside the club. Tonight was amateur night, and Gunnar had asked me to dress the part. I went above and beyond in a white lace tank that made my tits look divine, red cowboy boots to match my lips and two dark braids peeking from underneath a Stetson. I was a cowboy’s wet dream, which I hoped translated into big ass tips for me tonight.
“You’re late,” Saint’s voice growled behind me, startling me.
I refused to show it, tightening my shoulders before glancing over one to look at him. Big mistake because tonight he wore the male equivalent of my own outfit, only he filled out that white t-shirt so fucking deliciously, I had a sharp reminder of my panty-less state. “I’m fifteen minutes early, actually.”
He growled again and my nipples responded. Instantly. “You’re on the front bar. Again.”
“Got it,” I told him, my voice a little too bright as I stomped off to the employee locker room where my keys and bag would be safe during my shift. I tried not to let his shitty attitude get to me, but it was hard not to take it personally, even with all the hot as fuck looks he sent my way. Saint didn’t like me. I had no clue why, but something about me turned his smile into a scowl, and his happy mood darkened when I came around.
It was enough to give a girl a complex.
If I was an ordinary girl, it might have. But I wasn’t, I recognized the pain I saw in Saint’s beautiful green eyes, and I saw right through his cool business demeanor he used to hide the pain. I recognized the hint of darkness I saw in him, the darkness that terrified him because he didn’t know how to embrace it. Not yet.
I had to laugh at myself. Hint of darkness. What the fuck did that even mean? It meant that my one and only friend Jessie, with her romantic tendencies and love of all things lovey-dovey, was rubbing off on me. She was a die-hard romantic, and I knew she’d see some hero worthy of saving when she saw Saint, instead of a flashing neon sign with the word DANGER staring back, like I did.
Jessie had her own happy ending so she saw love everywhere, but she was the outlier. The anomaly. People like Saint and me didn’t get what she had, so she wasn’t able to see things clearly. I could, though. So I knew there was no point in seeing any more than what Saint presented to the world. It was what he wanted the world to see, which meant that was who he wanted to be.
And that was just perfect for me. It would allow me to have a little fun while seeking a bit of revenge for him being a dick. By the end of my shift, we’d see just how much of a saint he really was.
Chapter Nine
Saint
“Oh, excuse me.” Hazel’s voice was husky and innocent. Too goddamn innocent considering it was the fiftieth time she’d accidentally bumped or rubbed up against me.
“Don’t worry about it,” I grunted, but the truth was she was a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. The worst part was that I couldn’t be sure she did it on purpose because two people squeezed into a twelve foot by five-foot space meant things were pretty cramped behind the bar, so I couldn’t outright accuse her. No matter how hard it was to ignore. I needed to escape, even if it was just temporarily. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be right here,” she said in a sing-song voice that hit me right between the legs.
The woman was too much temptation and the worst part of it was that she didn’t have a fucking clue. At least I hoped she didn’t, because that was the only thing keeping me from taking her hard and fast in a dark corner of the club.
“Saint, there you are. How’s it going man?” Gunnar wore a wide smile that I knew meant he’d just been with his woman. Or was on his way to see her. Either way, he was happy.
“Good. Just came to grab some more napkins.” It was as good a lie as any and the supply closet was only a few feet away.
“Full already? You think it’s because of amateur night?”
I nodded at his enthusiastic question. When I’d first met Gunnar, I wasn’t sure if he ever smiled, but the more he whipped Hardtail Ranch into shape, the more he smiled. Laughed. Joked, even. It was a little disturbing, but I was also happy for anyone who managed to say fuck off to their demons.
“Safe to say that’s why. The crowd is huge.”
“Good,” he said, but then his brows rose. “We have about a dozen new members coming in tonight, all under thirty and most of them men. Keep an eye on the front bar tonight. And Hazel.”
“She’s a big girl, Gunnar. And we have security.” I couldn’t tell if he was attracted to her or wary of Hazel, but his interest in her was odd.
“She is, and she’s also a damn good bartender, not to mention one of my employees. I just want to make sure she feels as safe as she actually is.”
Ah hell, now I couldn’t stop thinking about hands grabbing and tugging on her against her will. Brown eyes wide and terrified, searching for a helping hand and not finding one. Fuck. “You can count on me, Gunnar.”
“I know I can.” He smiled again and gave my back a playful slap. Then his expression sobered. “Big Mac’s place got robbed last night.”
Those were the last damn words I expected to hear. Big Mac was a good guy, a good man, and I knew enough bad ones to know the difference. The tall man with the ginger beard had a smile for everyone, never forgot a name, and would order whatever you needed without judgment or questions. “Is he all right?”
Gunnar nodded but I knew he was downplaying it. “Mac’s a bit banged up and one eye is swollen shut but he’s fine. Ready to light a fire up under someone’s ass.”
Not that I blamed him. Opey was his hometown, born and raised and Mac was proud of the fact that Opey had one of the lowest crime rates in all of Texas. These robberies had probably pissed him off good and then for him to get hit, he was probably on a rampage. I knew what needed to be done and no matter how unsure I felt about it, I knew it was the right thing. “Recon tonight?”
A small smile pulled across Gunnar’s lips. “Tonight. After closing.” Gunnar held out his hand and I took it, shaking it the way men like us did. Firm and brief. “We won’t do anything we don’t need to. I promise.”
I believed him. “Tonight, then.” I knew Gunnar wouldn’t lead any of us into a situation we couldn’t get out of so I pushed my negative thoughts away for now and headed back to the bar. With napkins.
Hazel wore a bright smile for two couples, one older and the other much younger, while whipping up some kind of fancy cocktail.
“Then we add the egg white. Sounds weird, I know but it’s what makes all the difference. If you’ve ever had it the right way, you’ll never be able to have it any other way.” She gave the shaker a good shake, tits jiggling tantalizingly beneath white lace. All four sets of eyes were glued to the movement, the press of her nipples against the lace, slowly hardening as she poured the drinks.
“Cheers!” Her smile was wide and her eyes shiny with happiness, but it all rang a little hollow.
Everyone took a sip and declared her a genius before walking away. The older woman walked back with desire in her eyes and slid a hundred dollar bill towards Hazel.
“I hope to see you in one of the rooms sometime soon.” She winked and walked away.
Surprisingly, Hazel gave her one short look and went back to work, not bothered by the blatant desire of the other woman. I wondered if she was considering it, if she would find one or both of those couples another time and let them have their way with her. Did that kind of thing really do it for her?
Shit, who was I to judge? I hadn’t been with a woman since, hell since Iceland. Maybe I needed some kinky shit to bring me back to life. She did say she used it to relax. Maybe it would work for me? Then again, maybe not.
“You handled that well,” I told her when I was close enough to feel the heat coming off her body.
She shrugged. “They were nice people so what’s the point in being rude? Besides, you never know what the future might hold.”
I wanted to know more about that but a rush of people came to the bar all at once, forcing Hazel and I to work very closely and very quickly. I spent the next few hours with a permanent hardon where that sweet little ass brushed across my zipper at least a hundred times. Did the woman not believe in wearing a bra? Every time she scooted past me; her hard nipples scraped against my chest. Sometimes a hand would slide across my midsection or over my ass. It was torture.
Pure fucking torture. She smelled like sex and candy. Intoxicating and irresistible.
“Comin’ through!” she said.
Before I could move, Hazel was sidestepping past me with four glasses in her hands and her ass giving me the biggest goddamn boner of the night.
“Shit,” I bit out and went the opposite way, sticking close to the bar while I got a few whiskeys for a couple of the older members. “There ya go,” I said as I served them, brighter than I felt.
Finally, the crowd thinned as couples, triples and singles danced and mingled, flirted and sized up the others in the room, searching for who would help them fulfill tonight’s fantasies. It was always like that at the start of a shift and in an hour, maybe eighty-five minutes, they would all be back, sated and thirsty and ready for round two. With all the amateurs in the house tonight, it could get even crazier.
“Got it!” Hazel’s shout of distress drew my attention and I was right behind her as she leaned over the bar to catch a falling cocktail glass. Long, shapely legs dangled in the air but then something else, a flash of pink, caught my eye.
Not just pink. Bare, pink lips. Puffy pink pussy lips stared back at me far too fucking briefly, but long enough to make my mouth water and my cock harden. I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back with a grunt. “Careful.”
“Thanks,” she said on a breathy sigh, big brown eyes shining up at me with gratitude.
I held her close for another minute, bending to her ear.
“I’ll be back.” I needed a dark corner or a cold fucking shower.
Maybe it was time to find a hot, willing
woman. One who didn’t work for me.
How hard could that be? I was in a fucking sex club.
Chapter Ten
Hazel
“Finally!” At The Barn Door, there was closing time and then there was time to go home time. Closing time happened an hour after last call because Gunnar wanted to give the members time to get themselves together so they went out into the streets of conservative west Texas with their hair and clothes all proper like, at least that was how Holden had put it. Now that the last members were out the door, Saint locked it behind them and we got busy with the work the customers didn’t get to see.
Luckily, it wasn’t part of my job to clean bodily fluids, sex toys and other equipment, so I gingerly stepped over discarded items as I grabbed all the leftover glasses. As usual, there were glasses everywhere and it took almost an hour just to gather them all, stack them and take them to the dishwasher in the kitchen. Next up I had to clean the tables in the bar. Each and every damn one.
It was a boring job whose only real fault was that it was tedious, but I had five hundred bucks worth of tips in my pocket so none of the after shift jobs got to me.
Or maybe it was the arousal coursing through my body, the same way it had been all night. Working in a sex club turned me on seven ways to Sunday but doing it alongside Saint was torture on the lady bits. Actually painful.
I didn’t know why in the hell I thought I could fuck with a guy like Saint and leave completely unaffected, because I couldn’t. It was just impossible. Brushing up against him and the sculpted muscles of his chest, abs and, yes, Lord, even his ass, had been my undoing. I was wet and swollen and the only recourse on tap was my hand or my toys, neither of which I was hungry for at the moment. No, there was just one man that would satisfy my appetite and I couldn’t have him.
Not if I wanted to keep my job.
“At least the tables are done,” I muttered to myself and tossed the last few towels into the laundry bin that would get picked up tomorrow. Then I headed downstairs to the employee locker room to change my shirt and grab my bag. I wouldn’t go searching for Saint until I was ready to walk out the door. I needed distance if there was even a glimmer of a chance that I wouldn’t do something stupid.