Alone in my head at last, I can see Joelle, curls tumbling around her naked shoulders, smiling that wide smile.
“I’ve got what you need,” she’s saying, even as she blushes.
It’s the blush that does me in. Suddenly I’m coming like I haven’t had release in months, every last minute of the past year alone exploding from the base of my spine, shooting my load so hard I hear it splash against the tile on the floor. I brace my hands on the sink, groaning again.
Fucking shit. What the hell am I’m going to do?
5
Alex
The bar at Duckbill is crowded but then I’m later than usual tonight. Meg’s behind the bar and when she spots me over the horde, she points me toward the only open chair left. I shift sideways to avoid the crush and take the chair.
“Busy night,” I say, practically shouting so she can hear me over the music.
“Playoffs,” she says with a grin. “Good for business. You want a menu?”
I nod. Meg turns, keeping a supporting hand below her growing belly. You’d think a pregnant woman tending bar would put people off their booze, but Meg loved her job and it showed. I nod my thanks when she hands me the menu.
I could have played the roommate card. Elliot tells me I should just text him what I want to order so I don’t have to wait when I come in, but he’s already got so much on his plate, so to speak. Besides, socializing with some new faces is part of the plan now, so here I am.
After seeing this crowd though, I’m thinking maybe I should just start that part tomorrow. Maybe next week.
I write down my order so I don’t have to shout at Meg. She takes it from me with a wink, swapping it for a beer I didn’t ask for.
I mean, if I have to be here anyway… Meg smirks at me before moving back down the bar.
I don’t exactly love crowds but the energy in the room is undeniably invigorating, like one big room full of potential. Like something could happen any minute.
It’s a good feeling, so I hang on to it. I don’t know anybody in here except a couple of the employees. Maybe Elliot won’t have as much trouble turning things around as he thought.
Sitting in a bar full of people makes me think maybe it’s time I moved on, away from here. I mean, I’ve lived in this city my whole life. My parents live here. Nearly every friend I’ve ever had still lives here, though some have moved away. Maybe it’s time to think about moving somewhere else too.
A fresh start. Clean slate. All those clichés. No more hiding.
Except the part of me I hide doesn’t go away, even if I move away. I still want to get married, have children, settle down behind some white picket fence. That kind of future either means finding somebody who can live with my past… or finding a way to live with my past and never telling another soul again.
My throat tightens at the thought. I hate liars, and the idea of keeping secrets from even a hypothetical future spouse feels a helluva lot like lying to me.
I drain what’s left of my beer, trying to shake off that train of thought. No, moving away wouldn’t solve anything. I can’t leave now anyway. Elliot’s going to need all the help he can get the next few weeks.
Maybe after the holidays—
“Sorry, babe, but somebody borked your order up,” says a breathless Meg as she sets another pint down in front of me. “Mind sticking around a little while longer?”
“That depends,” I say with a smile. “You planning on driving me home?”
“Shameless flirt,” she says. “If I thought for even a second you were serious—”
“Yeah, Jack would beat the ever-loving shit out of me,” I say. “Not that you’re not the most beautiful woman on the earth, but I meant I’m gonna need a designated driver at the rate we’re going.”
Meg laughs. “Fair enough. Stay and eat, will you? We can hook you up with a ride if you stick around tonight.”
I think about it for all of two seconds and nod. “Deal.”
I’ve clearly surprised her but Meg gives me a big smile and heads back down the bar. I won’t avail myself of her offer of a ride home, but it’s nice to know somebody wants me to stick around. Even if it’s only because she knows I’ll tip her well, it’s still a nice feeling.
And just when the hell did I get so cynical? It’s easy to blame Diana and the breakup, but I’m getting pretty damn sick of that same old song, even if it’s only in my head.
I turn my attention to baseball instead, enjoying the cool bite of the beer Meg poured me. I don’t recognize the flavor; it must be new. Then again, this is the longest time I’ve spent in a bar—hell, anywhere besides work or home—in months. Maybe a year.
Definitely time to get out more.
A few minutes later, Meg sets a large bag of food on the bar next to me.
“Keep an eye on this for me, will you?” she says, already moving away. The receipt stapled to the top says FNG, so I know it’s not mine.
“Excuse me,” comes a soft voice I barely hear over the crowd. I turn in my seat, and there she is.
That’s it—that’s all I can think. There she is.
“I think that might be my order,” she says, pointing at the bag I’m supposed to be guarding.
“FNG?” I say. Because there aren’t any more words in my head. There’s barely any air in the bar. And what air was left evaporates a moment later, because she laughs.
“FNG, huh? They think they’re so funny,” she says.
“So that’s not what I should call you?”
“You can call me anything you want,” she says and winks. Thank God I’m already sitting, because my knees would have buckled.
“I’m Alex,” I say.
“I’m Joelle,” she says, holding out a hand. I shake it, battling the ridiculous urge to pull her hand up to kiss it.
“So what’s the joke?” I say, letting her go before I give into any weird impulses and try to put her in my pocket for keeps.
“Hmm?” she asks. She’s staring at me and it’s not the get-the-hell-away-you-weirdo kind of way.
Not going to lie, that’s gratifying.
“You said ‘FNG’ is a joke,” I say, smiling.
“Oh, that. It stands for ‘freaking new girl.’” She’s smiling back at me and it takes a second for it to register.
“New girl,” I say. “You work here?”
“As of yesterday, I do,” she says.
And all of a sudden, it hits me.
“You’re Joelle Munroe,” I say, shaking my head. “The food blogger.”
Her eyes go wide.
“There is no possible way you recognized me from the internet,” she says, a little shaky. She suddenly looks like she’s about to bolt so I raise my hands.
“Not exactly,” I tell her. “I’m a friend of Elliot James. He told me he was trying to schedule a meeting with you.”
Joelle lets out a breath, visibly relaxing. “Oh! Alex, as in 'the roommate’ Alex?’”
“That’s me,” I say. I wonder where she got that from. Workplace gossip, most likely.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I say, meeting her eyes. “I thought Elliot was looking to hire you as a consultant.”
“He was, but I talked him into part time,” she says with a secret grin. I feel that grin in every cell in my body and my breath catches at the conjured image of Joelle naked on my bed, grinning at me just like that. Like she knows all my secrets and revels in that knowledge.
Dangerous thoughts to be having, maybe, but I’m not ready to walk away yet. As luck would have it, the couple sitting next to me decides it’s time to take their not-so-subtle petting somewhere else.
“Can I buy you a drink? I’d love to hear about it.” I stand to hold out the recently vacated stool. Joelle bites her lip, hesitating, and that tiny movement hits me in the gut. I shift slightly, just enough to hide my fly behind the stool.
“Okay,” she says and takes a seat. I manage to climb back into mine wi
thout doing serious injury and if she notices the tented fabric in my lap, she doesn’t mention it.
“So Elliot hired you part time,” I say, waving at Meg. She holds up a finger. “What position?”
For a second, I think I spot a faint blush on her cheeks, but it’s gone the next instant. Must be a trick of the light in here. All that neon and the TVs and mirrors.
“Ah, I’m starting on prep,” she says. “Once I get the hang of it, I’ll train for the front line.”
“Cooking,” I nod. “Of course. Makes sense.”
“If you knew Elliot was meeting with me, I guess he’s told you about the menu changes, too?” she asks.
“He did. Since you’re here I take it you’re going to ride in and save the day?”
Her eyes go wide and this time I know the color in her face isn’t just a trick of the light.
“What did you say?” she stammers. I repeat my question, fascinated as her blush deepens.
“I misunderstood you, sorry,” she says. Meg stops in front of us and Joelle’s relief is so palpable I could reach out and touch it as she places her drink order.
What did she think—
Oh. I said ‘ride in.’ Did she hear ‘ride him?’
The vision flashes through my mind before I can stop it—Joelle straddling Elliot over the chair in his office, riding him hard. Just like that, my dick goes from semi to semi-automatic.
I shift in my chair, trying to get a goddamn grip as Meg and Joelle laugh about something. This woman whose work I’ve admired off and on for years, who turns out to be possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, who is now sitting down to have drinks with me in the closest thing I’ve had to a date in over a year—all this and the thought of her riding Elliot’s cock has me about to shoot off in my pants.
Christ. Jesus Christ.
He’d yank her skirt up around her hips—I have it on good authority he likes to leave the skirt on. She’d straddle him, her knees going tight around his hips. I’d have to lean closer to see.
“Alex?” Meg is snapping her fingers in front of my face. “You okay, babe?”
Joelle is looking at me with concern. Thank God I didn’t take my jacket off. It’s the only reason the whole bar can’t see me leaking at the thought of this gorgeous girl riding my best friend’s dick.
“I’m good,” I say. My voice is too low for her to hear me, so I give her a thumbs up. Meg shrugs and sets down Joelle’s drink, some fruity concoction in a pretty glass that I don’t recognize. Joelle’s giving me the side-eye like she’s not sure what she’s gotten herself into.
Truth be told, I’m not sure myself, but it’s not her fault I’ve got a thing for my friend. Who happens to be her boss.
And with that thought, the porn just writes itself in my head. Seriously, what the hell? My libido’s been all but dead this last year. Lately I’d started to forget why that was a problem, because it had been so long. Now in the span of two days, my body suddenly decided to make up for lost time.
So I turn the conversation to her blog. Joelle humors me at first but then she gets so into it, and I get so into watching her light up with how much she loves her work that we stay for a second drink. She begs off after that, saying she’s got to get home. My food arrived during our conversation but I wasn’t paying attention to anything but Joelle. I pay Meg, tipping her more than usual because she went out of her way to be nice to Joelle despite the crowded bar.
* * *
I wave as the cab drives off, carting my cold takeout through the door and back to the kitchen. The microwave dings just as I hear a car door slam in the driveway.
“Dude,” says Elliot as he walks down the hall a minute later. “If you’d waited about ten more minutes, I could have driven you home.”
“No big deal,” I say. “I guess Meg told you I was there?”
“Mhmm,” he says, helping himself to a beer from my fridge. “I hear you and Joelle Munroe are thick as thieves.” He cocks a brow at me and leans against the counter as his opens the bottle.
Something’s thick, anyway. I shove a huge bite of my reheated pasta into my mouth and take my time answering him.
“She told me about some of the new menu stuff,” I say. “Sounds like your problems are over.”
Elliot snorts.
“My problems are not over,” he says. He plops down in the chair at the other end of the table. “I swear to God, Alex. I almost didn’t hire her. I’m already sorry I did.”
“What? Why?”
“Are you kidding? Did you actually look at her?” He’s glaring at me, incredulity stamped all over his face.
“Right. I forgot about the rule.” Of course he wants her. Of fucking course he does. Who wouldn’t?
That means tonight’s drink never happened. I can’t see her again. Not that I’d made any plans to see her. I didn’t even get her phone number, an oversight for which I’d been kicking myself the whole ride home. Now it seems that was a blessing in disguise, because Elliot met her first and I’d rather drop myself in the river than cross that line with my best friend.
“It’s a stupid fucking rule,” he says. He’s damn near pouting and that full bottom lip of his makes me want to bite him.
I need to get a fucking grip.
“It sucks, man. It really does. But it’s not a stupid rule and you know it.”
Elliot sighs. “I know. So… you going to ask her out or what?”
“What makes you think I—”
“For fuck’s sake, Alex,” he says, glaring at me again. “When’s the last time you went out on a date?” I take another huge bite of food and Elliot smirks at me. “My point exactly. From what Meg told me tonight, you and Joelle hit it off. Ask her out.”
“I feel like I’m in high school all over again,” I mutter.
“Yeah, well, join the club,” he says. I get the feeling he’s not talking about us sitting here talking about girls and my skin gets hot. Since when do me and Elliot do subtext?
“So maybe I will,” I say because I have to say something. The silence around us grows thicker and I don’t know why.
“You do that,” he says.
6
Joelle
I don’t know who came up with the whole idea of cold showers but it’s a crock of shit.
I shut off the water and grab the towel, drying off as fast as I can to try to stop the shivers. Now I’m just annoyed AND horny.
I don’t know what came over me the other night, flirting with Alex at the bar like that, but whatever it was it hasn’t gone away. My skin is hot and feels too tight. I can hardly walk without squeezing my thighs together against the ache there. I can’t concentrate.
I’m a hot fucking mess.
I swear to God, I don’t think I was this hormonal in high school. I want to blame it on the stress of a new job, or tell myself I’m deflecting because juggling my responsibilities at home with my new job is hard. But Jesus, you’d think I’d never had an orgasm before.
And even if that were true, it’s definitely not the case after these last few days. Ever since I sat in that bar and heard Alex mention me riding Elliot, I can’t stop thinking about it. Even though I know he didn’t actually say that. Alex was perfectly respectful and appropriate the whole time we talked, which was frustrating as hell. I thought for sure he was interested in me. He was definitely flirting with me at the beginning.
That’s what’s so confusing. I don’t know which part turns me on more—flirting with Elliot’s super-hot friend, or the idea of riding my boss like I’m trying to save a horse. I’ve never been as attracted to a man in my life as I am to Elliot James, and now all of a sudden there’s two of them? It makes no sense.
I’m going to spontaneously combust—and not in the sexy way. Sometimes I think I’m literally going to catch fire.
“Joelle!”
I groan, burying the sound into my towel before I crack open the bathroom door.
“Be out in a bit,” I call. I dress quick
ly, putting on the barest minimum of makeup. No point in making more effort—I’ll just sweat it off in the kitchen.
Hormone explosion aside, the job is better than I could have dreamed. I’m learning a lot, especially since Elliot lets me shadow him whenever he’s in the kitchen. The rest of the crew, too. Aside from the usual new-kid ribbing, they’re great about showing me the ropes and making sure I don’t get overwhelmed. It’s only been a couple of weeks but I’m taking it as a good sign that I haven’t run away screaming. Maybe, just maybe I’m finally heading in the right direction.
When I get to the living room, Dad’s already in his chair, TV on mute.
“Morning, Dad,” I say, bending to kiss his cheek. He grunts.
“Where do you think you’re going at this hour?”
“I told you yesterday, remember? I’m heading in a couple of hours early to work on the new menu.” I force my shoulders to relax. “I sent a copy of my schedule to your email the other day. Did you see it?”
I know he did. Read receipts are a thing. And he knows that I know, but he just shrugs.
“Is there anything you need before I head out?” I ask from the kitchen. He’s got food ready to heat up and the team will be here soon so he won’t be alone all day today.
“What am I supposed to do when those morons aren’t here?” He asks. “They’re only around three times a week. What am I supposed to do the other days?”
“I don’t know, Dad,” I say. If I can hear my own exasperation, there’s no way he can miss it. I take a deep breath and try again. “Maybe try taking a walk?”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
Dad’s face goes red. “Don’t you disrespect me, young lady. I’ve kept a roof over your head for damn near twenty-three years.”
Pretty sure I’ve been doing the keeping the last couple of years. I bury the thought fast. It won’t help.
“I know, Dad, I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect. I only thought the fresh air would do you good. Maybe you could go visit some of your friends down at the VFW. You haven’t been in ages, right?”
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