WineBar: The Complete Story

by Alexis Angel

  “Fuck my ass, Kirk,” I beg shamelessly, and I don’t even care.

  And he gives it to me just like I like it.

  His chest is pressed against my back, and all I have to do is jut my ass back to feel his thick shaft between my ass cheeks. I grind against him, wasting no time and stroking his cock with my ass.

  His cock is so wet from my cum that he just slides right in my tight little hole.

  He moves his hips softly at first, matching the movement of my body. But that doesn’t last for long; a fraction of a second later, he thrusts violently, impaling me with his shaft all the way to the hilt.

  “Harder, Kirk. Fuck me hard—as hard you can!” I cry out, the sound of his thighs slapping my ass drowning out every single coherent thought floating inside my head.

  I ask him to go hard, and hard is exactly how he goes. Putting all his strength behind his movements, his cock rams in and out of me so fast I don’t even know when it’s going in and when it’s going out. All I know is that he’s fucking me with the intensity of a man on a mission.

  A man who wants to drive his woman wild.

  “Ugh.” I grunt, unable to scream any longer. Biting down on my lower lip, I close my eyes and surrender to the tidal wave of pleasure that crashes against me.

  It overtakes me completely, and I can feel every square millimeter of my skin light up, my whole body blazing with the fire Kirk’s set loose inside me.

  “Can you keep going?” he asks, bending down over my back with his lips close to my ear. Slowly, he pulls his cock out and returns it to my pussy, rubbing it against the swollen lips, the wide head ready to split me once again.

  “What do you think?” I whisper, but my voice betrays how close to being completely spent I am.

  Still, I don’t care. I want to keep on fucking. I need to keep fucking.

  “I think you’re perfect, baby,” he says softly, and then he blows my fucking mind.

  Curling his fingers around one of my ankles, he pulls my leg up and over his shoulder as he drives into me while I’m on all fours…well, all threes, I suppose

  “I love this view,” he says, his voice so deep and sweet that I can’t help but close my eyes and smile.

  “Don’t hold back now...” I pant, but I know he doesn’t need instructions.

  “Have I ever held back?”

  “No.” I smile as his fingers dig deep into the flesh of my ass cheeks.

  “That’s right. Not about to start now, baby,” I hear him say, but my brain is no longer capable of processing the meaning of his words.

  “Fuck, Em. Your pussy was made for my cock.”

  It’s not the first time he’s said it, but I fucking love it.

  I dive headfirst into one of the pillows, and Kirk holds me back by the hips, driving into me over and over again as if our lives depend on it. And I’m starting to think they do.

  “You don’t want me to hold back,” he starts, “and so I won’t.”

  With that, he pulls back once more, then he thrusts his cock into me so fiercely that it’s like his flesh is made out of fire. His thick shaft stretches me wide as he pounds into me, his thighs slapping my ass over and over again—the sound of it drowning out my moans.

  And let me tell you, I’m moaning really fucking loud now.

  I’m on the verge of passing out from utter ecstasy. My eyes are rolling back in my head, and I’m alternating between seeing flashes of radiant light and blacking out, but it’s that intense pleasure that keeps me conscious too.

  It’s the most intense sex of my life.

  “Oh fuck!” I scream again, a storm of ecstasy raging over my brain and consuming me. “Oh god, Kirk, YES!!!”

  Pure electric fire crackles under my skin, my muscles growing numb as a violent spasm shakes my entire body, my pussy clamping down on Kirk’s cock like I want to keep it right there inside of me forever.

  With an animalistic growl, WineBar drives into me one final time, then I feel him pouring out his hot cum all inside my pussy—so much of it that it spills out and runs down my legs. We’re covered in hot, sticky cum as we collapse on the bed, totally exhausted and so well fucked that I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.

  And that, babe, is just how filthy my mind is. A fantasy so fucking awesome that I made myself cum like ten times.

  But as perfect as that was, it still doesn’t compare to the real thing. I know now what I have to do.

  I need to have sex, yeah.

  But I need to go home. I need to see WineBar. I need to figure this thing out.

  Because I miss him. And the next time I cum, I want it to be because he’s bringing my wildest fantasies to life.

  And when he does, I know it’ll be even crazier than what my dirty little mind can imagine.

  Chapter 55

  Kirk

  These are not the visits to my parents’ house that I enjoy. I don’t love when visiting family feels like a business meeting. Who does?

  But sometimes there’s shit that needs to get talked about and figured out.

  The car service driver knows this journey by now and drops me off right in my parents’ driveway. At least this time, I know what I want. I just hope my father doesn’t waste time trying to talk me out of anything.

  I know that it breaks his heart to exclude me from the family business, but that’s his call. If I have to ride out some drama, then so be it.

  I trudge to the front door and wipe my shoes slowly on the welcome mat. Okay, here it goes.

  As soon as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear a voice, but not one of my parents’.

  No fucking way. I’m imagining this, right? Because that voice can’t really be…

  I swing the door open, already supremely fucking irked. Why in the name of all that is holy would they invite fucking Miranda?

  I feel queasy as I walk in, because I know exactly why: they don’t like Emily.

  I try to control my breathing as I walk toward the sound of my parents and Miranda laughing in the fucking living room.

  She probably didn’t invite herself. This is likely my father’s idea. I need to try not to totally fly off the fucking handle.

  After that barbecue, he’s bound to react in some way, although it’s getting to the point of being ridiculous now.

  It gets oddly quiet before I get to the living room. And by the time I’m there, Miranda is sitting there alone. She’s in the middle of the sectional, and she’s looking at me with a huge smile plastered on her face.

  “What are you doing here, Miranda?” I grit my teeth.

  “Your dad called. He said there was a Sunday get-together.”

  “There’s not. Where is he?”

  “They went to the kitchen to get something.”

  Just fucking great. I walk over and sit next to Miranda on the sectional.

  “This isn’t your first time here, Miranda. You know what that means.”

  “It means your mom went off to do something or other, and your dad went off to do something else, and they probably won’t be back for a while.”

  “If ever. Why did you come?”

  “Because I wanted to, because I’m invited, and because I miss you.”

  Miranda grabs my shoulders and pulls me closer to her. She starts kissing my cheek, then bites my earlobe softly. I jerk back reflexively.

  “Please stop, Miranda.”

  “If you don’t want it, why are you sitting next to me? It’s a big room.”

  I pull farther away from Miranda, and she lets go of me.

  “Because I want to communicate with you clearly. It seems like we’re in two different places, but I need to tell you that it is over. You need to understand that. There’s no going back, Miranda.”

  I expect Miranda to just ignore this, like she seems to be ignoring a lot of things, but she looks seriously distraught. She can’t even make eye contact.

  “You’re really ready to move on, huh?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Becau
se of that bitch, right?”

  “Miranda, please.”

  “That goddamned Emily, right?”

  I can’t answer right away. I owe it to Miranda to be truthful. I allow myself a quick sigh.

  “It is Emily, but since the party...”

  Miranda’s face transforms instantly. She lights up, and now she’s looking right into my eyes.

  “Well, what about the party?”

  “Things are still weird, I guess. You know, you were there, you were a witness to everything. Since then, just...no calls, nothing. I am planning to see her, though.”

  Miranda laughs hard, throwing her head back.

  “Witness? Baby, I was a fucking participant. We got drunk together!”

  I grimace. “Um, yeah, she certainly got drunk.”

  “Ohhh, yeah she was. I made sure of that.”

  I feel blood rushing to my face.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Miranda’s face freezes, and I can see the regret wash over her.

  But let’s be clear here. She doesn’t regret what she did—not for a fucking second. She just regrets admitting it.

  “I wanted her to have a good time,” she says with a pout.

  Jesus Christ.

  “I know you have this weird...influence sometimes, Miranda. But I need you to come clean about what you actively did. Like, I need to know everything.”

  Miranda takes a couple of deep breaths.

  “I did whatever I could to get her really hammered. It was all intentional. I-I wanted her to embarrass herself.”

  Tears start spilling out of Miranda’s eyes. Now I think she regrets everything. But it’s too fucking late.

  “You don’t do that to someone, Miranda. To anyone. Fuck.” I scrape my hand across my jaw. “You should know that. I can’t believe you did this...”

  “I’m sorry!” Miranda is outright blubbering, and it’s all I can do to keep my cool.

  “A couple things.” My voice is barely controlled as I look her dead in the eyes. “One, I need for you to promise me that you’ll get some help, and you’ll never do anything like that again. Ever.”

  “Oh god, I promise, Kirk. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

  “Two, please get the fuck out of my parents’ house. Now.”

  Miranda stops crying abruptly, like just turns that shit right off, and I wonder if the whole thing was a fucking act. She grabs her purse from the coffee table and storms out. I wait until I hear her walk out the front door, and I go to find my father.

  The first place I look is the kitchen, and there he is, sitting with the Sunday edition of the New York Times sprawled out across the kitchen table. He looks up from the crossword, seeming honestly surprised to see me.

  “When did you get here?”

  I point toward the living room with my thumb.

  “You didn’t hear any of that?”

  “Any of what? Where’s Miranda?”

  “She left. We’re broken up, Dad. We have been for a while. It’s time to stop inviting her over.”

  “I think she’s good for you, Kirk.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. Does he have any idea what she’s like? My mother ambles in through the door across the kitchen.

  “You’re here already, Kirk? I didn’t hear you come in.”

  I let myself heave another quick sigh. What the fuck?

  “Just so both of you know, Miranda’s gone. It’s over, and there’s no going back.”

  My mother’s confused by my intensity.

  “Okay, Kirk,” she says slowly.

  “Mom, I know you mean well. You too, Dad. But I’m with Emily now.”

  My father puts down his pen and frowns.

  “I’m always impressed by you, Kirk. Amazed by the life you’ve made for yourself. I’m always bragging about my son, about how successful you are, how smart you are...”

  “It’s true. He won’t shut up about it,” my mother adds.

  “The decisions that you make, they always work out wonderfully,” he continues. “But this one, I don’t see it. You’re not thinking this through. I don’t see it turning out well.”

  You know what? Fuck this. It’s my decision, and I have nothing to fucking prove about it.

  “Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” My voice is low and hard.

  Then I simply turn around and walk out of my parents’ house without bothering to say goodbye.

  Well, that was a total shit show. But if nothing else came of it, one thing is abundantly clear.

  This thing with me and Em?

  It’s not over.

  Chapter 56

  Emily

  No, WineBar’s not at his wine bar. It’s not like I expect him to be, anyway.

  There’s a pitcher of sangria in front of us and an empty glass in front of me. I’m probably drinking more than my share, but I definitely need it more than Lana. I pour another full glass.

  “Still recovering from all that amazing sun and cock?”

  Lana doesn’t seem to realize the state I’m in tonight.

  “Cancun is always good, yeah.” I swirl the bright-red drink around in my glass. So what the fuck am I going to do now?

  “I figured you must’ve gotten laid that last night. Wasn’t it a Sunscreen guy or something you had a date with?”

  This gets a tiny frown from me.

  “No, that didn’t happen.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “I was too drunk to do anything.”

  “So? Doesn’t that make things exciting? All-out-drunk sex, I mean.”

  “Lana. Seriously?”

  But that’s not what stopped me, and I don’t know that I want to get into all the WineBar inner turmoil bullshit with her just yet. She’s been telling me to forget about him the entire trip, and I’m not sure she’ll be happy hearing about me refusing sex from a hot guy because of WineBar.

  I move from swirling my sangria to drinking it. I don’t think I can gulp it down fast enough.

  “Hey, ladies!”

  Lana and I both swing around, startled. Even after seeing her face dolled up in heavy eye makeup and purple lipstick, it takes a second for me to recognize her.

  Oh. Woo fucking hoo.

  “It’s been a few days, Miranda.” This should be fucking fantastic.

  “Yeah! Fancy meeting you here.” Miranda’s acting especially bubbly.

  Lana sends me a quick bemused look.

  “Miranda, this is my best friend and writing partner, Lana.”

  Lana looks just slightly less confused as she shakes Miranda’s hand.

  “I met Miranda at Kirk’s barbecue.”

  Lana gives a big, dramatic nod as it all comes together for her.

  “I guess you know Kirk from this place,” Lana offers politely.

  “Oh, yeah, we go way back. Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear, but were you guys taking about Cancun?”

  Something’s off. I try to give Lana a side glance, but now she’s beaming happily at Miranda. Totally fucking oblivious.

  “Yes! We just got back from there! Why don’t you join us?” Lana moves to the next stool and offers her the seat next to mine.

  Miranda happily slinks in. I don’t quite know what’s going on, but whatever. I’ve got my drink.

  I gulp down some more sangria.

  “Are you a regular Cancun-goer, or what?” I’m trying to be nice to Miranda, but it’s coming out kinda snarky.

  “Oh no, I’ve never been.”

  Miranda’s eyes are fixed forward at the wall behind the bar. I don’t know what her deal is right now, but Lana seems happy that she’s here. She grabs Miranda’s arm and starts talking straight at her.

  “Hey, Miranda, I haven’t told Emily over there this yet, but I want to be her wingwoman tonight. I need to get her to talk to some guys. You could help...”

  “Lana, what the fuck—” I just sigh instead of finishing. What’s the point?

  “Don’t worry a
bout her, Miranda,” Lana chirps on as if Miranda’s an old friend. “She just needs to get back into the game. Whaddya say? We can help one another out. There are enough guys out tonight for all of us.”

  “I’d love to help Emily, and I will. I have my own man, though, so I don’t need help in that department.”

  At least Miranda’s found somebody. Maybe now she can stop hovering around WineBar all the damn time, whatever the fuck he’s doing these days.

  “That’s good to hear. Who is it, Miranda?” I actually couldn’t care less, but I wouldn’t mind talking about something positive, at least to hear about someone else’s happiness. Or to get my mind off my lack of it.

  Miranda turns to me. I recognize that vaguely wild look in her eyes.

  “You know him!”

  Okay, so you know those moments in the movies where everything comes to a screeching stop? Like a record needle scratch moment? Yeah, that’s how I feel right now.

  Because…just…fuck. No, no, no, no.

  “I do?” The words come out in a raspy whisper.

  “It’s Kirk!”

  God. Damn. It.

  And how can she be so fucking insensitive? She looks so freaking thrilled with herself.

  I want to throw up, but instead I feel my face form into the meanest scowl I have—that’s literally the nicest I can be about this, and that’s with giving it all my effort.

  Miranda and Lana are both looking at me. Miranda has a smug smirk on her face, and Lana looks appropriately terrified. Lana almost jumps when she hears the sound of some dude’s voice nearby.

  “Hey, Derek!” she calls, almost frantically.

  I hear the voice go “Heyyyyyy” somewhere behind me, but I want nothing to do with it.

  “Come on, Em. I want you to meet Derek.”

  “Who the hell is Derek?” I don’t wait for an answer. I just drain the rest of my drink. I need another.

  “I met him in Cancun. I knew he lived here, but...well, I kind of expected to run into him. Come on!”

  Lana leaps from her stool, starts walking over to wherever that guy is, and grabs my arm on her way.

  “Okay, fine, take it easy.” I stand up and try to keep up with Lana as she trots over to a table by the entrance. I’m almost in a daze.

  I do want to get away from fucking Miranda, but I also want to get away from everyone else.