Chase

 

 

“Fuck, man. Stop being a pussy and go talk to her,” I said, leaning slightly over the table for Russell to hear me in the loud crowded bar.

My phone vibrated in my pocket just as I put my ass back on the stool, but I ignored it. Russell downed the last drop of scotch in his glass and eyed Lane and me before he straightened the collar of his fucking baby-blue polo shirt.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Russell said to us before he took two steps, and looked back.

“You can do it, big boy.” Lane pushed with a wave of his hand and a chuckle.

I reached for my Jack and took a hefty swig. Letting the amber liquid flow down my throat, I was ready to observe the train wreck that was about to occur in front of me. I watched Russell weave his way through the bar, losing him every now and then. With all the girls in here with fuck-me heels on and huge guys littered around, Russell’s six-one stature occasionally disappeared in the mob.

My eyes scanned the mass and stopped on a tall blonde leaning against the bruised old wood of the bar. With her eyes on me, her mouth moved, clearly talking to the girl who sat beside her. Once she realized she had my attention, her lips angled up into a small seductive smile. I moved my eyes slowly down her body and viewed nice perky tits in a tight black sweater and an ass covered in equally snug jeans. Legs a mile long that ended in sexy-as-fuck black-and-red heels.

My observation was quickly interrupted by Lane laughing. “The fucker couldn’t do it.”

I looked to the table where Russell should be by now, but found him headed to the back of the bar toward the bathrooms.

“He probably shit himself on the way over, nervous bastard,” Lane scoffed before picking up his beer and draining the last of it.

“Pussy,” I muttered.

“Yep,” he agreed. “Speaking of pussy, it’s time I go hunting.” He smiled and stood. “You found your piece yet?” he asked.

I glanced back at the bar and saw that the blonde still had her eyes on me. I watched the movement of her tongue as she slowly licked her cherry-stained lips. She didn’t know it yet but later those red lips would be wrapped around my cock.

My attention came back to Lane as he said, “Fuck, she’s hot. Don’t hurt her, man.”

I grinned. Lane shook his head with a smirk and walked away.

The waitress, Tabby, floated over with a big smile. “Another Jack on the rocks, Chase?” she questioned while picking up my empty glass and Lane’s beer bottle.

I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my phone, pressed the button to highlight the screen, and 10:53 p.m. glowed in white.

“Yeah, Tabby, thanks,” I replied.

“Be back, hottie,” she threw over her shoulder with a knowing grin.

I could’ve fucked Tabby a million times by now, but I hadn’t. The guys and I had been coming to Rusty’s bar for years and from day one, I always felt I shouldn’t shit where I drank. You fucked one barmaid, you had to fuck ’em all, and that shit just caused drama.

And I am not a guy who does drama.

Fuck, I had enough of that growing up. The shit that’d happened while I was in the Marines was the last of the drama I was ever going to deal with in my life.

I gazed back over to the blonde at the bar and saw she was still there. She and her friend giggled at something Mike, the bartender, was saying. Knowing Mike as well as I do, it had something to do with his skiing accident.

Living in Denver for as long as I had, I’d learned everyone seemed to have some winter sport disaster story. I did not. That shit was for pussies. You want to talk about hardships, then let’s talk about carrying heavy gear strapped to your back, crawling through four inches of water while a barbed wire trellis was mere inches from your head. Now that’d been a fucking activity.

Knowing the blonde was still there and I had my fuck laid out for the night, I tapped the screen on my phone again. I hit the e-mail icon and opened the new mail with the subject line I hope you can help me.

“Here ya go, sweetie,” Tabby drawled, putting the glass on the table and drawing my attention from the phone to her.

“Thanks,” I said and then viewed the bar long enough to find the guys.

Lane was talking to some redhead and Russell was playing pool with a few other guys. It was in my nature to keep tabs on them to make sure they were good. Since I had their positions, I went back to reading the e-mail.

My name is Naomi McAllister. I was given your information by a past client of yours, Victoria Staten. She has highly recommended you and feels that you would be able to help me with my issue.

Fuckin’ hell.

Vicky Staten had been a former client and one I didn’t want to have anything to do with again. The only reason I’d taken her case was because she offered a nice chunk of change. Tracking down and monitoring unfaithful husbands was not in my job title. 

Dark Edges PI was the heading on all the invoices and business cards, but that was strictly to cover my ass so I was never questioned on exactly what I did.

I continued reading the e-mail. 

I’ve been married for two months and just moved here shortly after our wedding due to my husband being transferred. I don’t know many people and I am not too familiar with the area yet. I guess before I go on blurting out my whole life story, I’ll get to the point.

I took a minute to remove my eyes from reading the e-mail and reach for my drink as her words played through my mind.

Her husband moves her to a place she knows nothing about and let me guess, starts tagging pussy on the side. What a dickhead.

I inhaled a deep breath and rolled my shoulders before taking a swig. Putting the glass back down on the table, my eyes roamed over the bar. Blondie was still in place and throwing back a shot of clear liquid.

That’s it, sweetheart, keep drinking. That way, when I have my time with you, you’ll never know what fucking hit you.

Lane seemed to have made his mark, since the redhead was seated on his lap, and Russell was racking up for another fucking game of pool. He needed to break out of that damn shell he was living in.

Shaking my head at the pussy Russell was, I went back to reading.

I suspect my husband is having an affair.

No shit.

He works in the banking industry and travels what I feel is a lot, and often. Without going into too much detail, he’s changed. Actually, since we said I do, he’s changed. Furthermore, my grandmother is not well and I’d like to see her but I’d also like to straighten out my life before I do. I spend most my time in this huge house baking. And we all know that baking sweet treats is not good for a woman’s hips.

My lips curved up on one side at how fucking cute she sounded.

Mr. Black, please. I am at a loss on what to do and where to go from here. I have tried to do some investigating myself but I do hold a part-time shift manger job at a local resort, so my time is somewhat limited, and honestly, I don’t even know what direction to go in.

I hope you take the time to truly consider taking on my case. Money is no object and I am willing to pay anything. Thank you for your time and I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Naomi McAllister

I slid my thumb over the screen and moved the e-mail to the bottom until it disappeared. I threw my phone on the table, lifted my glass, and downed the rest in one gulp. Slamming the empty tumbler down onto the gray-painted wood, I stood up, grabbed my cell, placed it in my back pocket, and headed in Blondie’s direction.

I worked my way between the mass of tipsy and already drunk people, all the while ignoring any advances made toward me by females. Weaving between Blondie and her friend, I leaned into the bar and called, “Hey, Mike?”

He turned his head and made his way over from the other end. “How’s it going, dude?”

Dude? Fuck, does anyone over the age of twenty-five still say that shit?

“Ready to settle my tab,” I told Mike, pulling out my wallet.

“Bummer,” Blondie muttered to my left, but I paid no attention to her.

I pretended to fiddle with my wallet as I rested my forearms on the bar.

“I wish you weren’t leaving,” I heard her mumble, but again, I disregarded her and focused on Mike at the register.

She let out an audible huff and I knew I had her right where I wanted her.

Women hate to be ignored. For some reason it makes them want you even more. I bet if I glanced her way, I’d see rock-hard nipples pushing at the tight black material. I also wouldn’t be surprised if she was rocking that jean-clad wet pussy on the stool.

“Forty-two,” Mike advised, breaking me from my thoughts.

I snatched four twenties and tossed them onto the bar top in his direction. He scooped them up, counted the bills, and glanced over at me with a questioning look.

“Make sure Tabby gets thirty of that. Keep the rest for yourself.” I turned my attention to Blondie and gave her what she wanted. “You ready?”

Her hazel eyes grew wide with excitement before she leaned to the side and peeked at her friend with a smile.

“Last chance,” I warned her.

She seized her purse from the bar, hopped off her stool, and twisted to her friend. “Call you later.”

“Have fun,” her friend returned with an expressive smirk.

Blondie’s heels clicked quickly behind me as we approached the door and I swung it open with one arm letting her go first. She kept up with my long strides as I weaved in and out of the parked vehicles in the gravel parking lot, heading to the back where my new black Denali sat. Damn, my bitch is gorgeous.   

Once I stopped at the tailgate, Blondie halted so quickly she stumbled. I caught her and figured it was as good a time as any. My arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush to my body. She gasped but quickly smiled up at me, her firm tits pushing against my solid chest.

Fuckin’ hell! I should have known her tits were fake. I hated fake tits. Nothing beat the sight of natural tits bouncing as the girl rode the shit out of my cock.

She clutched my shoulders as she steadied herself while I raised my other hand and took a fistful of blond hair in it.

“Oh!” she yelped.

I tugged, jerking her head back, and looked down into bright hazel eyes. “You gonna be able to handle this?”

“Um,” she muttered nervously as her body trembled in my firm grasp.

“’Um’ is not an answer, sweetheart.” My voice then dipped to a low rumble. “I don’t have sex. I don’t make love. I fuck and when I do, I fuck rough and hard.”

Her eyes grew wide at my statement. I hoped she wasn’t expecting me to be the type of guy to build her a house with a white picket fence and fill whatever her dream home was with fucking kids. ’Cause that wasn’t my style.

My brows came together as I narrowed my eyes and assessed her face. I wasn’t too sure if she could truly handle what I was about to deliver. Seconds ticked by and I started to lose my patience. I began to shake my head, and just as I was about to let her go, she cleared her throat.

“Yeah… yeah, I can handle it,” she uttered apprehensively, evidently not only trying to convince me but herself too.

Fuck, she can’t handle it.

I figured I’d test the waters and nodded once, before taking her mouth with mine. Her lips were taut and uninviting, so I nipped her bottom lip with my teeth. Her mouth opened with a gasp and my tongue plunged inside.

I started to roam her mouth where I found the strong taste of vodka and cranberry, which I fucking hated, lingered. Her tongue felt tight and her lack of participation in this awful kiss had me ending it as quickly as I’d begun.

Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing and when she smiled at me, I couldn’t find it in me to grin back, not even the slightest bit.

Usually my radar was on target and I had no problem spotting the willing females. But tonight something was fucking off because I’d thought Blondie was going to be a decent fuck.

In a last ditch attempt to salvage this atrocious tryst, I moved my hand from around her waist to grip her ass cheek. Her eyes widened when I placed firm pressure against her ass, pulling her into my lax crotch.

Her smile faded. “You’re not hard?”

“It takes a hell of a lot more than a kiss to get me hard, sweetheart,” I replied gruffly.

“Maybe I can fix that then, baby,” she breathed, the smell of her drink on her breath making me wince as she began to wiggle out of my grasp.

Fuck, was that supposed to be sexy?

As she descended down my body, the smell of cranberry and vodka, mixed with her sweet perfume still lingered in my nose. I ran my hand over my face, trying to wipe away any traces of the putrid smell. 

“God, you smell great,” she said once she got onto her knees in front of me.

I grunted at her confession because quite frankly, I couldn’t express the same. My brain was yelling, Abort! but my cock saw nothing but a girl kneeling in front of me and that sight sparked its interest.

“You ready, baby?” she questioned as she began to undo my zipper.

Looking down, I saw her face illuminated in the lights hanging from the outside brick wall of the bar, her willing eyes gazing up at me, red lips curved in a seductive grin as she pulled down my jeans.

“Fuck, yeah,” I whispered.

Her eyes leveled on her hands working my boxer briefs down my thighs. My semierect cock sprang free and was greeted by the cool night air. With no warning, no sign, her mouth engulfed my entire, unresponsive cock in one shot.

“Fuck,” I ground out as she began to pull me free from the warm, wet confines of her mouth.

     “You like?” Her gaze met mine as her tongue traced my head.

Pulling my dark gray thermal shirt up to get a better view, I gave her a slight nod, hoping she’d stop talking and get back to sucking me off. Good call, because her hot mouth consumed my now rock-hard cock, and she gagged.

She abruptly moved her head back and whined, “Shit, you’re huge.”

“Can’t handle it?” I challenged.

Giving me a resolute look, Blondie wrapped a hand around the base and took me back into her mouth. The hand was all the answer I needed: she couldn’t handle it.

As her hand and mouth worked in tandem together, I let my head fall back and closed my eyes, trying to replace the image of her face. Not that she wasn’t an attractive woman, she was, but because this wasn’t turning out the way I’d planned. Just as I squeezed my eyes tight, the sound of a car door slamming had them popping back open.

A shadow of a woman appeared from between two cars. I saw her head moving from side to side as she tried to make out what was going on. And when her body jolted and froze, I knew she’d figured it out. But she hadn’t moved. And knowing she was watching had me lacing my fingers into Blondie’s hair, who let out a moan that vibrated into my balls and my grip tightened. Her deep groan let me know she approved, along with her now pumping and sucking me harder.

With my eyes still locked to the shadowy figure of the woman, I began to move my hips. Blondie moved a hand to clutch my thigh as I thrust in and out of her mouth, a flush of warmth coursing through my body.

My hips pumped harder, my grip hauled her mouth down onto my cock, and she gagged. One hand pulled at my jeans, her other squeezed the base of my cock. The woman in the distance moved a hand up to her face, probably to place it over her mouth.

She began to take a few slow steps back. I ignored all the pleading moans and tugs from Blondie to stop. My balls began to tighten and I felt the first signs of blowing my load near.

Blondie’s gargling groans grew louder when my cock swelled and the first spurt came barreling out and down her throat. The woman in the shadows turned and took off at a brisk walk. 

I looked down as the second burst of come was just about to make its appearance. Blondie’s eyes were huge, black mascara mixing with tears running down her cheeks, and her face was flushed. My hand clutched her hair and I pulled her off my cock just in time to shoot my come over her shoulder. I clenched my teeth as the last of it streamed out and onto her black sweater.

Fuck! Now I’m sure I’ll have a whiny, crying, pissed-off woman on my hands.

I took a deep breath and started to tuck myself back in my jeans. “Couldn’t handle it, huh?”

Blondie wiped at her black tearstained cheeks and stood on shaky legs. “Oh, I did,” she insisted hesitantly with a small smile.

I let out a small huffed chuckle, shook my head, and smirked. Crisis had been adverted, but she wasn’t fucking fooling me.

“Let’s get you back to your friend,” I told her while I began to move from the rear of my truck.

“Wait… what?” she called from behind me.

“Your friend, inside,” I stated, pointing toward the bar.

Her pace picked up and she grabbed my arm, halting my next step. “I thought I could go home with you and we can continue the fun there.”

I turned to look at her and shook my head. “I don’t take girls home.” I started toward the bar entrance again with a faster stride.

“Can I have your number then?” she requested.

“No,” I said with a firm deep voice just as I opened the door to the bar.

“But—” she started once we were inside. I turned, and putting a finger to her lip to quiet her, muttered, “Thank you,” before slipping through the crowd toward the bathrooms.

 

****

 

Naomi

 

The heels of my brown leather boots clicked loudly against the tattered hardwood floor. The sound reverberated in my ears over the loud conversation of people in the bar reminding me of Mrs. Wales, the strict principal I had in high school, coming down the hallway. My heart pounded in time with the fast steps that led me to the ladies’ room.

Once inside, I made quick work of locking the door before my body slumped against it, my heaving breaths the only sound that echoed in the small outdated bathroom.

“I…” I began to stammer on a heavy breath. “I cannot believe what I just watched.”

All I’d wanted to do was get out of the house for a while, not witness a sex act. I pulled myself together and moved to the old round iron-framed mirror that was full of small cracks. Doing my best to get a look at my flushed face, I took a deep breath.

“It was just a guy getting a blow job in a parking lot. Don’t be such a prude,” I mumbled into the still stale air before I exited the bathroom into the noisy, crowded bar and walked straight into a solid wall of man.

“I’m so sorry. I’m a bit flustered and…” I began to mutter before looking up. And when I did, all the breaths I had taken in the bathroom to fill my lungs suddenly disappeared.

Crystal blue eyes scanned my body then landed on mine. A tingling warmth flowed through me, making me gasp and wobble because the man in front of me was that gorgeous. His hand grabbed my upper arm to steady me, his eyes moving to where he touched me, but when they came back to mine, something crossed over his features.

Dropping his hand from its grasp on my arm, he took a step back, his eyes moving to stare at his hand in confusion before coming back to meet mine.

“Really, I’m sorry,” I said but he didn’t respond, only pinning me for a few seconds with his piercing blue eyes before moving around me. I turned to watch him walk away and it suddenly hit me. Oh my God! He was BLOW JOB GUY. It took a moment for me to recover from that fabulous realization, but when I couldn’t see him anymore, I headed toward the bar. One drink, Naomi, just one drink. You can do it, I chanted in my head as I weaved through the throng of people. Instead of grabbing a small table in the corner, I forced myself to move to a vacant stool at the bar.

“What can I get ya?” the tall attractive bartender asked, throwing a stained white towel over his shoulder.

“Umm,” I mumbled, because I hadn’t thought of what I was going to order. “White Russian, please,” I blurted, feigning confidence.

“Sure thing, beautiful.” He smiled before he took off down to the other end of the bar.

I chanced a glance at the mirror that backed the bar to see the long brown waves of my hair cascading out from underneath a cream-colored crocheted beanie that was placed neatly on my head. But I also saw that my cheeks were flushed, mostly from what had just occurred in the back hallway and not the events I’d witnessed earlier in the parking lot.

I next scanned the line of people to my right along the bar. Some were couples nestled together, while others were there to have a few drinks with friends. Jealousy punched me in the gut.

I remembered the times that Braydon and I had gone to the local bar on a Friday night, back when we lived in Chicago. We’d stayed out to all hours of the night with friends, come home feeling good, and had some great sex. But now, that was all just a memory. Since moving to Denver less than two months ago, things had certainly changed, and not for the better I’d been hoping for.

“Here ya go.” The bartender broke me from my thoughts as he placed my drink in front of me.

“Thank you,” I responded, sliding the drink closer.

“You visiting?” he asked curiously.

“No, I live here.” I swirled the straw in the tan liquid.

The girl two stools down from me on the left called out, “Mike, I think I’m ready for another.” She held her empty glass in the air, waving it back and forth eyeing me suspiciously.

Please, sweetheart. I don’t want him.

“Excuse me,” Mike said before stepping near the woman.

I lifted my glass and took a sip and the coffee-flavored drink flowed down my throat with too much ease. I wondered why I didn’t order White Russians more often when I went out.

“Oh my God, you’re back already? I thought for sure I wouldn’t be seeing you till tomorrow!” I heard the girl to my left bellow over the chattering voices.

Not wanting to seem nosy, but curious all the same, I slowly slid my eyes up to the mirror and over in their direction. A beautiful blond-haired girl with a huge smile on her face glided her thin body onto the stool.

I instantly became envious of her slim frame. I had been skinny, but roughly a month and a half ago I’d started eating more. The constant absence of my husband was my justification. He was always gone these days, and I’d taken up the hobby of baking.

“Yeah,” she huffed out to her friend. “We fooled around in the parking lot.”

Oh my God! That’s BLOW JOB GIRL!

“The parking lot?” the other girl asked with a snicker.

“Yeah, he said he had to get up early tomorrow. But…” She grabbed the drink that Mike had just put down in front of her friend and took a sip, then said, “He’s totally into me though.”

I didn’t know what’d happened after I hurried from the parking lot, but he didn’t seem as if he was into her at all, as he was focused on me, not to mention, what had just occurred between him and me seconds ago. Oh my God, did he know it was me watching in the parking lot? All this had a small chuckle escaping from my mouth. Both girls swung their heads my way and I quickly averted my eyes to the flat-screen TV hanging above the mirrored wall.

I should just go home.

That would mean I’d be sitting in a huge empty house, probably baking, which I’d been doing for more nights than I’d like to admit, or sitting by the phone waiting for Braydon to return my calls or texts, which I knew deep down inside wouldn’t happen.

“You like hockey?” Mike, the bartender, questioned from in front of me, and I tilted my head down from the TV.

“Um, no, not really.” I giggled.

“Well, you sure were glued to the game,” he said, gesturing to the hockey game on the huge flat screen.

Smiling, I waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Oh, actually, I was zoning out.”

He grinned at me and winked.

Oh no! Was he flirting?

I automatically began to twirl the two-carat diamond ring that was set in white gold with a matching wedding band around my finger. It’d become such a habit these days. Even if it was nothing but perfectly sculpted metal full of empty promises and broken vows… and my marriage had become nothing more than two people living as roommates.

Mike looked to my hands on the bar, clearly saw I was silently telling him I was married, gave me a knowing smile and walked away.

Yeah, I should have stayed home.