WineBar: The Complete Story

by Alexis Angel

  Conservative but slutty.

  Lana looks up from her phone as I power walk past the couch.

  “Leaving?”

  “Yeah. You’ll be here when I get back, right, babe?”

  Lana doesn’t bother answering since she can tell my mind is somewhere else.

  “Don’t drink until you eat something!” Lana yells as I walk out the door.

  I let the door shut behind me. Even though Lana’s words are loud enough to ricochet around the hallway, they don’t really register with me.

  I’m too focused on how amazing WineBar will think I look and how easy it will be for him to push me in a corner and finger fuck me in this dress.

  Yes…I’m totally ready for this.

  Chapter 41

  Emily

  WineBar’s townhouse seems perfect to me, even for Russian Hill. It’s a classic Edwardian-style house on a fairly flat, easy-to-walk block. In my experience, the area is also nice and quiet without too much traffic.

  For whatever reason, that’s not the case as my taxi pulls up to the front of Kirk’s building—or as close as we can get to it. It looks like all the street parking is taken, and there’s a small crowd of people lingering idly in front of Kirk’s front door. I feel my stomach churn faintly, probably from stress.

  What the hell is going on?

  I step out of the taxi and begin walking toward the townhouse. Everybody outside the front of the building is mingling in groups. Most of them turn to look—or glare—at me as I approach.

  This is already a lot different than my expectations. Instead of a small, intimate gathering of loved ones, this is clearly a full-fledged shindig with half the city in attendance. Instead of feeling self-conscious about meeting Kirk’s family, I’m strangely self-conscious about walking in alone at a giant party filled with strangers.

  What’s that even about? I can run a room, command all the attention at a party. But right now I’m off-kilter. This whole meeting the family business has thrown me for a loop.

  Whatever. Maybe it’s possible that, for business reasons, WineBar can hardly plan any event without a huge guest list. Maybe everyone’s out here and there aren’t actully that many people inside.

  I keep my head up, eyes scanning the area as I saunter through the crowd and let myself through the front door.

  Okay, yeah, it’s fucking packed.

  Even with little open space, Kirk’s house seems larger than ever with hordes of people—strangers—milling around, their loud conversations echoing off the high ceilings.

  The air is pungent with the combined scents of midmarket perfume, cologne, fancy beer, and liquors of all kinds. It’s like some hotel bar in Union Square on a Friday night, only with less tourists.

  I need a fucking drink.

  I point myself toward the rear entrance with determination. I know that WineBar has to be outside, no doubt at the center of the action. I’m almost ready to yell at him, but I fight the urge.

  This is his barbecue, after all, and I’m ready to see where this is all going. Without having the floorplan of this place memorized, I find a quick route to the huge wrought-iron doors leading outside.

  The crowd’s a bit thinner outside, but the setup’s still elaborate with tables, string lanterns, and downtempo electronica playing quietly from somewhere. There’s also the sound and smell of sizzling food…and there’s the grill.

  More importantly, there’s WineBar with his back facing me.

  And yes, of course, there are three women flocked around him, all wearing awfully unconservative dresses.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Maybe I should embrace that urge to yell.

  I see WineBar’s face in profile as he turns and says something to the chestnut-haired girl in the black minidress on his left. All three women erupt in laughter, and Kirk has a stupid, fake little smile on his face.

  I find myself almost stomping to the grill, ready to let WineBar have it. Why did he even invite me to this thing? All the stress, and the time, and the taxi…I need to know just what in the hell he was thinking.

  I’m almost there, maybe a few feet away, when Kirk turns his head around and notices me. The recognition hits his face, and Kirk’s phony smirk instantly transforms into a grin of genuine delight. And surprise. And relief.

  I can feel the warmth in his eyes, and my anger melts and evaporates just like that. Kinda like how that smile is making my panties melt, too.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” Kirk turns around to face me entirely. He’s still smiling, and his eyes stay locked on mine.

  “Hey, Tad,” Kirk calls out while still focused on me. And like magic, some dude runs over and takes the barbecue fork that Kirk is holding out.

  “I’m glad you finally trust me,” the guy declares jokingly. He seems thrilled to take over the grill, even as the women gathered around it start to look around for other things to do.

  I feel speechless as Kirk approaches me. And a little bit lightheaded. And a whole lot horny.

  Kirk softly brushes his fingertips against my left arm. Right now, it feels better than any embrace, especially since it seems to carry the promise of much more.

  My whole body responds with a shiver that races over my skin and finally settles right there at my clit. As usual, WineBar has me wet and ready to go with nothing more than a look.

  “Big party.” I find my voice at last. It sounds a bit hoarse right now, but Kirk doesn’t seem to mind as his smile broadens.

  “Yeah, it’s just a little thing I threw together.”

  Our eyes are still locked, but by now Kirk is so close that I’m almost looking straight up at him.

  “What did you call this on the phone? A small get-together or something? Modesty makes me so fucking hot.” There’s my voice, loud and clear.

  “In that case, we should head back into my tiny cottage soon.”

  “Oh, nice downplaying,” I tease. “I would like to see your tiny cottage very much. Maybe it has, I don’t know, a bed we could enjoy? If there’s enough room?”

  Kirk’s fingertips are moving up and down my arm with just a slight bit more intensity now.

  “Barely. My bed is pretty much a fold-out cot.”

  I throw my head back, groaning dramatically. “Oh! You’re so modest! I can’t take it!”

  I’m sure people are staring at us, but I don’t give a fuck, and neither does Kirk. He’s still looking only at me, and he’s laughing.

  “We can see the cottage soon enough. But there are still people here I want you to meet. You at least have to say hi to my brother. He’s almost here.”

  I back up a little and look down at the pastel paving stones under my feet. The music suddenly sounds a bit louder, and my stomach’s churning again.

  “Okay.”

  Kirk recloses the gap between us and starts rubbing my arm.

  “This is so not like you, Emily. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I bite my lip. “I’m…actually a little nervous about this whole thing. You know, meeting your family. I guess I can’t hide it.”

  I look up to see Kirk’s gaze meeting mine once more.

  “No, you can’t.”

  The time that it takes for Kirk to bring his lips to mine feels like an instant, but it also feels like an eternity, since I know the kiss is about to happen, and I want the moment to just last and last.

  Kirk kisses me, deeply, hungrily, yet also tenderly, and I feel the last day and a half of angst and apprehension dissipate.

  “I’m glad to get that off my chest,” I utter quietly.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, and I want you to enjoy yourself. I’m going to do whatever it takes to calm your nerves.”

  Well, that sounds promising.

  “And just what would that be?”

  While I like where this is going, I want Kirk to be specific. In fact, I really like the idea of Kirk being extremely specific about this.

  “Let’s go check out the cottage.”

  Thank. Fu
ck.

  Just what I wanted to hear.

  Kirk’s hand grips mine smoothly, and he pulls me tightly against him as we share another kiss, this time staying in the moment a little longer, our kiss getting close to indecent for a family event.

  I just can’t help it. Being pressed up against his sexy body makes me lose all reason. Or even remember why I should be reasonable in the first place.

  All I can think about right now is getting out of these fucking conservative clothes and letting Kirk do his thing to ‘calm my nerves.’

  With my hand in his, Kirk leads me through the path of partygoers back into his house.

  Chapter 42

  Emily

  The crowd inside is even bigger than before, but with Kirk leading the way, moving through it seems a lot more manageable. As he guides me down a packed hallway, there’s something about him that makes people instinctively make way for him to pass.

  He would be an awesome date to concerts, I realize. And food festivals. And parades.

  But right now, it’s hard to get my brain to focus on anything but the feel of his hand around mine, squeezing it tight.

  Well…that, and what he has in store for me when he gets me to his bedroom.

  “Don’t look so nervous.” He smiles over his shoulder, and I feel my mouth go dry. “I’m trying to calm your nerves, remember? Not get you all worked up all over again.”

  “There are just…a lot of people here, I guess.” I try to smile back, but it feels forced.

  “Then let’s get a little privacy.”

  We come to a stop outside of a set of massive double doors.

  Uh-huh. Some cottage, WineBar.

  Kirk lifts my fingers to his lips and kisses them, hard. His eyes look hungry, and not for barbeque either.

  His breath is on my fingertips, hot and humid. It makes me think of the other places I’d like to feel his breath…

  Shit. I’ve been played! This whole calming me down thing is just a pretext. He wants this just as much as I need it.

  Now I’m nervous and horny. It’s a disastrous combination, if I’ve ever heard of one. Judging by the look in Kirk’s eyes, I can tell he’s going to take advantage of it too.

  “My lady,” he says in that suave, cocky voice that makes my stomach do backflips. “Our humble chamber awaits.”

  Kirk throws open the doors to the master bedroom dramatically.

  Oh god.

  Whatever I expected to see inside Kirk’s bedroom, it definitely wasn’t this.

  A flash of white-hot jealousy courses through my entire body as I get a full view of not one, not two, but three women in Kirk’s king-sized bed. They’re all wearing lingerie—barely—and as I catch a glimpse of chestnut hair, I realize I’ve seen these three before.

  Grill bimbos. The slinky little black dress on the floor confirms it—these are the girls who were chatting Kirk up when I first arrived. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, seeing them schmoozing it up with him had bothered me then.

  Now they’re in his bed. Which is like, approximately five billion times worse.

  I look up at Kirk, ready to bail. Yeah, WineBar. Let’s see you explain this one, huh?

  To my amazement, he’s blushing. Like, actual, honest-to-god, pink-around-the-ears blushing.

  It’s pretty cute, admittedly. So is the way he raises his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. When he catches me staring at him, he slowly presses his index finger to his lips in pantomime: Shhhhh.

  And that’s when I realize.

  The girls in Kirk’s bed aren’t waiting for Kirk.

  The girls in Kirk’s bed are so busy attending to…ahem…one another that they haven’t even noticed that we’re here. The redhead and the brunette are locked in what looks like an impassioned tongue fight while the third girl is struggling to unclasp her bra, waiting for the right moment to dive in.

  Looks like they found something else to do after all.

  “Oh,” I say softly.

  “Yeaaaaah.” Kirk closes the doors to his master suite gently so we don’t disturb the trio inside.

  Once they’re closed, we both have to laugh.

  “They said they were girlfriends,” Kirk says, pulling me to him as we both shake with laughter. “I didn’t think they meant like that.”

  “Yeah, I think they’ve clarified their relationship pretty well now.”

  I giggle as Kirk hugs me to his chest. He kisses the top of my head while I breathe him in. He smells incredible, like light cologne and barbeque smoke and manliness.

  Whatever nervousness I was feeling before is gone. I must have left it back in Kirk’s bedroom to watch the lesbian three-way.

  For the sake of inner erotica author, I hope it’s taking notes.

  Because now, I’m wet, I’m ready, and I’m in the arms of the most gorgeous man in a twelve-block radius. No, I take that back. In the whole fucking Bay Area.

  I need to be fucked. Like, immediately. Urgently. 911, orgasm emergency. Code red! Code red!

  “Come on,” Kirk says.

  From the way he’s pulling me back down the stairs, I know he must feel the same way.

  He guides me to a less traveled part of his house this time. As the party guests thin, my anticipation only gets thicker. Kirk is making long, deliberate strides like a man on a mission.

  I have to trot along behind him in my heels to keep up. But the whole time, I’m absolutely fucking giddy.

  I am that mission.

  I don’t know what Kirk has in store for me, but I know that I want it.

  We make it through a doorway. Barely. If there are lesbians getting it on in this room too, we don’t even look to check.

  Kirk slams the door behind us, and suddenly, my back is against it. His body leans on mine—hard, toned, and utterly gorgeous—and he claims my mouth with a kiss before I can even manage an appropriately breathy gasp of wantonness.

  One of his hands is in my hair, capturing my long locks in his forceful clutches.

  With his free hand, he locks the door.

  Kirk kisses me like a man starved. His tongue pushes its way between my lips, hot and slick, and I moan as I taste him.

  Fuck. I’ve never been so addicted to the way a man tastes before, but Kirk? He makes chocolate truffles and gourmet coffee seem like gas station snacks by comparison.

  We tangle our tongues together in desperation, and I can feel my wanting turning into something else: need.

  There’s a delicious warmness radiating from my panties all the way up to the butterflies in my stomach. Every cell in my body feels like it’s vibrating. Beneath my sundress, even my nipples are hard.

  Just from a kiss.

  Oh my god.

  If this man doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to—I don’t know what I’m going to do. Scream, maybe. Then everyone in Kirk’s gorgeous home will know what he’s doing to me, and it would serve him right too.

  More likely, I’ll just have to shove him against the opposite wall and show him how it feels.

  As if he’s reading my mind, Kirk’s hands drop to my ass. After an obligatory squeeze, he’s lifting me up. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist.

  “Fuck. I always forget how strong you are,” I gasp in between kisses.

  Kirk laughs, pressing his lips against mine.

  “Then I’ll have to keep reminding you.”

  “Anytime, handsome.”

  Honestly, I’m eager for further proof. I can feel the massive bulge in his jeans pressed between my legs now, and I’m so wet for him that if we don’t start removing clothes soon, my panties are going to be soaked right through.

  Sundresses have their advantages, after all—even the painfully conservative ones. If Kirk would just get that sexy cock of his out, all he would have to do is push aside my panties and force that gorgeous piece of man meat between my pussy lips.

  But Kirk obviously has other plans. He turns sharply, and my skirt billows out around my waist. When he sits me down
, I shiver.

  Beneath my ass is a cool marble countertop. And since we haven’t bothered to turn the lights on yet, it takes me a second to figure out where we are.

  “Babe.”

  “Yes, babe?”

  “You’re not fucking me in a bathroom.”

  “Oh, no?” From the sound of amusement in Kirk’s voice, it’s apparent that fucking me in a bathroom is exactly what he intends to do. “Why not?”

  He has one hand on my knee that’s tantalizingly threatening to rise up to stroke my inner thigh. With his free hand, he’s fumbling with something on the countertop—a candle, I realize. It fills the room with the scent of vanilla and a moody golden glow.

  “I’m too classy for this,” I protest. Though, with the way his hand is creeping up my thigh to the wet, throbbing place between my legs, as far as protests go, it’s half-hearted at best.

  “No,” he growls. “I don’t think you are.”

  He gets on his knees. I give him a warning look. His fingers hook around the crotch of my panties, brushing against my pussy lips.

  I moan.

  “Are you, Em?”

  I bite my lip.

  “You’re wet. I can smell it.”

  I furrow my brow, torn between how bad I want to hump his gorgeous face right now and some half-assed sense of standards that I just made up.

  “Ugh. You’re right,” I relent with a sigh. “I’m so totally not.”

  “Thought so,” he says with a wolfish grin.

  He pulls my panties off me like they’re going out of style.

  Kirk’s mouth is a dream as he kisses his way up one thigh. It’s good, but too slow.

  I’ve been wet for him since the moment I first saw him today. Maybe even before then.

  We’re way past the point where I can settle for taking things slow.

  I grab his head and pull it toward my needy cunt. Generously, he lets me.

  Kirk knows exactly how to treat a soaked pussy. He makes out with my lower lips just like he makes out with my mouth. Better, even, because before I know it, I’m moaning for him on the verge of my first orgasm.

  Knowing Kirk, it won’t be the last.