by Stark, Lola
My efforts weren't wasted. I got to him. I’d gotten to him more than enough. At least enough that he’d ordered me on date. It was clear this wasn’t a request. He did not ask—he ordered. And it was hot as hell. I leaned my head against the wall and took a deep breath.
How was I ever going to be around him without burning up?
I was going to have to wing it on the date. Give as hard as I got. And I was looking forward to it.
Oh, this was going to be a freaking blast.
Some might find it strange being told they were going out rather than being asked. But it turned me on so much that my panties were soaked! There was something about a man who was confident enough in himself to assume the only answer would be yes. It really was more of a demand. Biting my lip through my smile, I sighed. Not that he’d given me the option, but if he’d asked properly, the answer would've been a big ‘hell, yes’.
I stood, breathed deeply and steadied myself enough to climb the steps. My sensitive nipples peaked and brushed against my blouse with every movement I made.
Oh, yeah. I was definitely going to need that rabbit tonight.
I rolled over in bed and blindly reached for my cell that was vibrating on the nightstand. It was a text from Teen.
You missed lunch, still alive?
I squinted through heavy eyes to peek a look at the time glowing bright red on the alarm clock and realized I'd slept in late. I’d missed our weekly date. Shit. I quickly tapped at the screen replying to her.
Alive, slept in. call you later xoxo.
I never freaking slept in! Even on weekends.
I instantly froze when I realized the situation I was in. It was the morning after date night and it seemed I was spooning, yes, spooning someone. A hard warm body against my back. A very hard warm Mace. A strong, muscled arm wrapped possessively around my hip, pinning me back into a straining erection. Warmth spread through my belly. Immediately, my body involuntarily reacted to having this Adonis at my back. My ass pressed back and ground into his hard on, tearing a small moan out of my throat. Briefly wondering how I had gotten home, the events of the evening played out in my mind in full color flashback.
Promptly at 6pm the knock at the door came. I slowly made my way down the stairs on four-inch ice-blue siren pumps, adorned with tiny rich red roses while straightening my matching off the shoulder shirt with little silver embellishments along the bottom around my hips. The half dozen silver bracelets that adorned my wrist jingled with every step I took. Throwing a sexy smirk towards the door, I took a moment to steady myself.
Swinging the door open, I lifted my eyes and had to grab onto the door and take a moment. This was becoming a bad joke. I couldn’t even be in the same room as the man without making a fool of myself. He stood, all six-foot-three of smirking honest-to-God sexiness. Clearly finding my teenage antics amusing, he did a very slow and heated sweep of me, pausing briefly with raised brows at my killer heels then moving slowly over the hip-hugging skinny leg distressed jeans. Passing over my midsection with parted lips, he stopped on my red painted lips.
He snapped his eyes to mine and with a gravelly voice declared, “Hot shoes babe. Ready?”
I snatched my purse up off the glass coffee table by the door, did a quick check to make sure I had everything and followed him out. Taking his outstretched hand in mine, the second we made contact tingles shot through me. His large hands made me feel small and petite. I looked up and noticed he’d parked his truck in Trip’s drive. “You didn’t need to park over there you know.”
Without even looking back at me, he mumbled, “Living there now, babe.”
We reached the passenger side, and as he gave me a hand up,—which happened to include both his hands on my ass—a round of butterflies swirled in my belly.
Once I was seated, I looked down into his face. He grinned, “Wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to see your pretty face every day.”
“Oh,” I whispered on a stuttered breath, thinking of all the ways I’d like to see him around. I was suddenly flushed. I’d really like to see a hell of a lot of him around. Shirtless and sweaty, mowing the yard…Now that would be nice.
I had to admit, the idea of him staying a mere hop skip and jump away left me a little worried though. I’d only know him for a day. I mean I’d known of him and I’d seen photos of him as he was growing up, but I didn’t actually know him—know him. As in, I really didn’t know anything about him. At all. I’d have to rectify that quick smart, and our date would be the perfect time to do that.
“What kind of work will you be doing now?” I asked curious. He looked sideways while shifting gears. Dammit, he even made that look sexy.
“I’ve been asked to do bit of P.I work for a buddy of mine. I don’t really need to work, but I prefer to keep busy. I might start in a few weeks.”
“At least you’ll have something to do,” I replied lamely. The way his mouth moved as he spoke was making me wonder what it would feel like to have his lips wrapped around my nipple again.
Squirming in my seat, I only just heard his murmured retort. “I could think of something I wanna do.” Clearly an insinuation and one I was more than down for.
Mace pulled up to the front of our local bar, Bob’s Bar and Grill, a place I absolutely loved.
What I loved about Bob’s was the friendly, relaxed atmosphere. Delicious and simple meals, cold beer on tap and great music. I wasn’t one of those girls who sipped fluffy frou frou drinks from pretty glasses with her pinkie in the air. Fuck no. Give me ice cold beer, shots of anything strong, and the occasional rum and coke.
“Table free over there,” Mace said with a nod of his head in the direction of a vacant table toward the back beside the pool tables. “I’ll get us some drinks. Be right there, babe”
He walked off toward the bar, not even asking me what I wanted. My irritation flared.
What an ass!
Did he think I couldn’t order for myself, his macho man routine was really beginning to piss me off. I mean, really did I have “useless bitch” hung on a tag around my neck?
“Freaking, assface, douche canoe, thinks he can boss me around like some kind of piece-of-bimbo ass,” I muttered to nobody in particular as I stomped off to our table ready to give him a serving when he got back, no doubt with something I’d hate. “He brings me back anything in a bitch glass, and I’ll make him drink it,” I continued ranting aloud.
I’d no sooner slid into my chair and put my clutch down when a cold beer was slid in front of me. I looked to the beer—all the pissy mood flew out of me replaced by a squishy feeling in my gut. Eyes snapping up to Mace to say thank you, I realized he was smirking like the cocky ass he was. “Thanks, but what’s so funny?” I part snapped at him.
“You, babe, stompin’ about the place like you’re gonna deck someone,” he said, trying and failing to hold back a chuckle
“I wasn’t going to hit anyone, just give you a piece of my mind.” I looked at him a little annoyed, because even when I thought he wasn’t paying attention, he was aware of my little tantrum. “How did you know what I drink?”
“Paid attention at dinner last night. You only drink one kind of beer,” he said nodding his head in the direction of my drink.
There he went again pissing me off with his noticing shit most men wouldn’t. I corrected my earlier observation.
Stupid, thoughtful, attention paying ass!
Fortunately, our conversation took a more pleasant turn when he let me order my own dinner and the next round of drinks. Though he put his foot down at me paying for anything.
“I’m more than capable of paying for a round of drinks,” I told him, eyebrows raised, my hands on my hips. To anyone else I probably seemed like a bitch, but he only found it amusing.
“A man doesn’t let his woman pay, plain and simple, babe,” he told me, his tone one not to be messed with.
Hold on, when the hell had I become ‘his woman’? It was our first date for crying out loud!
“How long were you with special ops then?” I figured I had to take this slow, and then maybe he’d give me something to work with.
“Six years roughly. How long have you been a tattooist?” His answer was brief, steering the conversation back again.
“I got my first tattoo here at eighteen.” I pointed to the ink on my bicep. “After that, I was hooked. I started my apprenticeship almost straightaway. Haven’t looked back.” He grabbed my arm and looked a little closer, the contact of his rough calloused fingers bringing the flush back to my cheeks.
“An engine?” he asked with raised brows.
“My dad and I we built cars from scratch; it was our thing. We always had an old engine we’d be fixing up.”
“The Cobra? You did that?” I’d seen him eyeing my car appreciatively.
“Yep, took us about six months, but she was well worth every second.”
“And the shoe?” he questioned, tipping his head to the side slightly. Looking back to my tattoo, I smiled. It was cute, an old car engine with a high heel sitting on top; this particular piece was all me.
“I have a slight obsession for heels. Well, any cute shoe really,” I mumbled, looking down at the table. I looked up when I heard him chuckle.
“I like your shoes; they make your legs go on forever”.
Trying to steer the conversation back, I asked more about his job. He let on a little bit, but no matter how I approached, I learned very little about Mace, other than he’d been doing tours all round; the last taking him away for over two years. There was something soothing about the way he spoke about it, an almost pained vibe though. It got to a point where he told me in a very indirect way that the topic was over. I could tell that he clearly didn’t like talking about himself. Constantly steering the conversation back to me and answering questions with questions was starting to irritate the shit out of me. Fortunately, Mace suggested a game of pool just before I was about to go all “I am woman hear me roar” on his ass.
“Come on, babe. I’ll show you how to play,” he told me while heading toward the vacant table.
I hate how he does that!
I should have been miffed that he assumed I couldn’t play, but instead, I figured I’d go along with it. Little did Mace know that I had played with my father as a kid and more recently, I beat his younger brother at least once every week. Trip, Remy, Teeny and I had a ritual after closing time each Friday. We’d stop at Bob’s to shoot pool, have a few drinks and embrace the weekend. Trip hated losing to me, yet he managed to take it like a man almost every time.
Deciding I could have a lot of fun with this, I walked up real close, leaning past him to grab a cue, and whispered—with practiced innocence and a bat of my eyelashes—“I need a stick-thingy. Wait. We should make a bet, right? That’s what they do on the TV shows.”
He smirked. “Babe, I’m not taking your money. It would be damn cruel to kick a pup while she’s down.” With a small smile, he turned and started racking the balls up. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and concentrated damn hard-on keeping a straight face.
I whined, “But I really wanna bet. Just fifty dollars. C’mon, it’ll be fun, and if I lose, you can buy me drinks with it anyway. C’mon, Mace. Please?”
He looked about to roll his eyes when he muttered, “Alright. But only one game of betting, babe. I’d hate for you to be upset all night.”
Cocky asshole!
It was kinda cute how he thought he could beat me. Call me smug, but I knew I was good. Damn good, actually. I just hoped he wasn't better.
“How do I know which balls are mine though?” I asked, sounding clueless.
“Whoever sinks the first ball gets that set” He pulled me close to where he stood at the table and picked up two balls. “See, this one is smalls, this one is bigs.” Pointing out what I already knew.
Biting my lip with what I hoped came across as a clueless look, I asked, “What does that mean?”
“Stripes and solid, see? There’s a set of each.” He smiled, a cocky look taking over his face.
“Oh I get it! Wait. Who gets to hit the balls first?” I was laying it on thick.
“The pretty lady does.”
“Flattery might just get you to second base. Tell me how to hit them. Do I just poke ‘em with the stick-thing?” I asked, turning my back a little so he wouldn’t see the laugh I was trying to hold down.
He smiled at me and shook his head “No you need to come down here near the white ball and—just come here, I’ll show you”.
I could barely keep the glee off my face as I walked to his end of the pool table. Mace came up behind, molding his hard body to mine. He brushed my hair back and lightly kissed my neck. He muttered, “Here, babe. Hold the cue like this.” He positioned my hand on the pool cue, his large hand encasing my much smaller one. “Rest your hand right here on the table.” His voice got a little quieter.
I pretended to be concentrating on what was happening with the game, but my brain was fully focused on this hard length brushing up against my ass. “And pull the back.” I moved the stick minimally along the side of our bodies, my breath coming out in short bursts as I became more and more turned on. “Yeah, just like that.” Bending over me with slightly parted legs, his hands on the stick with mine, his breath tickling the side of my neck, the smell of his soap and the erection pressed tight to my backside made my panties become moist. My girl bits spasmed at the thought of him bending me over sans clothing and having an audience. I purposely missed the shot by a mile; although, it may have had something to do with his lips as he kissed directly under my ear, and whispered hoarsely, “Gotta say, I like you bent over in front of me like this.”
I briefly forgot we were in public. Closing my eyes, I melted against him. “You smell good.”
And he did. Like musk, something woodsy and all man.
Cool air brushed over me as he moved away to take his shot, leaving me feeling a small sense of loss.
I played the clueless card for the first half of the game, purposely missing shots, and asking stupid questions I already knew the answers to.
And it was so much fun that it was hard not to burst into laughter at times.
Mace helped me out by telling me where to position the cue, and how to line up the balls. “Don’t worry babe, some people just aren’t pool players.” He must have mistaken me biting my lip trying to hold back the laughter as worry.
“You’re a really good teacher though.” I batted my eyelashes and laid on a sickly sweet smile.
“A few more dates and a heap more practice, you’ll be playing like a pro in no time.”
He was getting cocky again
It was time to step up and start playing to win. I wanted to get the hell outta here, preferably somewhere I could get that sexy grey Henley off him and pop the buttons on his black jeans. As he came down to take his shot, I leaned onto the table slightly, exposing my cleavage in a barely fit-for-public showing.
His eyes snapped up, lids becoming heavy. His eyes darkening with desire.
Oh, he saw. He liked it too. Leaning forward a little more, I asked innocently, “You gonna take that shot or stand there all day, honey?”
He grunted and took the shot, missing the ball completely. I figured it was time to make my play. I stepped up to the table and promptly sunk every last one of my balls, smirking as the eight ball went down.
Using the cue to steady himself, he dipped his head. I could see his body shake with silent laughter. I couldn’t help but join in. Lifting his head, I smiled angelically when he met my eyes. I really liked the way his smile changed his whole face. He chuckled, “I just got hustled, huh?”
Laying in my bed with a warm man pressed up against me, I was amazingly content. A broad smile appeared on my face
as I recalled the rest of the night’s events leading up to now.
After beating Mace at four games of pool, we spent my fifty dollar winnings on drinks. By the time we’d arrived home, I’d fallen asleep pressed tightly against him in the front cab of his truck. I vaguely remembered him carrying me up stairs to my bed, taking off my shoes and jeans with a muttered, “hot as fuck,” and then the sweet kiss he’d placed on my forehead as he tucked me in. He’d been so warm and comfortable I had asked him not to go, in my slightly inebriated and very sleepy state. At the time, it probably wasn’t a genius thing to do, inviting someone on a first date to stay the night, but right in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Mace gripped my hip tight as I moved my ass into him. His raspy voice, heavy with sleep came close to my ear, “Morning pretty girl.”
A round of goose bumps spread over my neck. Pushing back again with a slight grind of my hips, I whispered, “You stayed the night?”
“Mmm-hmm, you wouldn't let me go. Figured it was a nice place to be, you tucked up beside me.” He brushed his lips across my right shoulder. I turned my body slightly towards his. His hand shifted down to the back of my leg, hooked behind my knee, only to run it back up the inside of my leg, to the bottom edge of my lace boy short panties. Moving his finger slowly, lazily back and forth just inside the seam, his teasing touch heated my body as the anticipation took over. He lowered his head. Using his teeth, he pulled my tank down to reveal one puckered nipple. He took it in his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue, and softly nibbled against the hard peak. Morning stubble scratched against the soft flesh of my breast causing a ripple of heat to spread through my body. A growl tore up from his throat as his finger found its mark between my dripping folds. His head snapped up, eyes met mine, “Is that a—FUCK! You’re pierced!”
“Yeah, it kinda heightens everything, but, honey, if you flick it hard like that again, I’ll be coming in ten seconds flat,” I answered on a hitched breath as arousal shot through me and another rush of juices made me wetter.