Five minutes before the clock was due to strike midnight, the bartender—name still unknown—killed the jukebox and raised his voice. “Pay up and get out.”

As far as methods of getting drunk people to leave a bar, it was simple and crude. It also worked so well I knew he’d used it in the past.

I waited while he made his way down the bar, my card already out and ready. When he ignored it, turning instead to the digital point of sale system which looked better suited to a four-star restaurant than what amounted to a hole in the wall bar in a hole in the wall town, I frowned. “Do you not take cards?”

“Yes, we do.” He didn’t glance up, continuing to clear out tabs with steady efficiency. “But not from you.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Now he did look at me, his gaze scorching hot. “Consider it a courtship ritual.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t the most sophisticated of responses but it seemed to be the only one my brain could come up with at the moment. “Well. Thank you.” I paused, chewing on my lower lip until I realized he’d stopped working and was staring at me. “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”

“No.” Leaving it at that, he shifted his attention back to the tablet, his fingers flying over the screen. “And even if I was, I promise you it wouldn’t be the worst trouble I’ve ever been in.”

“Oh.” I was certainly winning the award for conversationalist of the year tonight. “If you’re sure.”

One corner of his mouth turned upward in a half smile, his fingers continuing to move with a precision which made me think of other ways he could put such talent to use. “I’m sure. Quiet now. The faster I get all this squared away, the faster we can get upstairs.” He shot me another thought-fizzling look for the briefest of seconds. “And I want to be upstairs with you sooner rather than later.”

Since there wasn’t anything to say in response to that, I simply sat there and watched him work. Which was, to my immense surprise, more than a little arousing.

It might have been the way he moved, the faint ripple of his muscles under his shirt a promise of the strength in his lithe, sinewy form. He reminded me of a dancer or an athlete, gliding around the now empty space as he put up chairs and swept the already spotless floor. When he threw the bolt on the front door, the sound echoing through the room, I jumped and then laughed at myself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not often someone is so focused on my ass they lose track of everything else.” He walked over to me, his steps slow and measured, his arms hanging loose at his sides. His eyes, though... the look in them was anything but causal. “Most people don’t make it past the tattoos.”

“Because a little ink is such a big deal?”

“In this town, yes.” He helped me off the bar stool, turning me toward the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms, his hand hot and firm where it pressed against the small of my back. “I told you, boring little people with boring little lives.”

“Right.” I leaned against the wall, studying the tattoos in question as he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, flipping through them before selecting one and sliding it in the lock. “You have to be one of the few people in the entire county who actually lock their door.”

“I’ve had problems with drunk people—well, women—thinking if they could just manage to put themselves in my bed, I’d realize I wanted them as much as they wanted me.” He pushed the door open, reaching past me and flicking a switch, a soft light illuminating a steep, narrow staircase. “I got tired of kicking half-naked women out of my apartment so I started locking up after myself.”

“Hmm.” I squeezed past him, climbing the stairs slowly, not to put on a show but because I’d had enough tequila to know gravity wasn’t my best friend at the moment. I paused when I reached the landing, nodding at another door. “This one locked, too?”

“No.” His voice was lower, raspy and I swallowed in an effort to wet my suddenly dry throat. “Go on in.”

Taking him at his word, I eased the door open, taking a few steps in before drawing up short. The last thing I wanted to do was run in to some random piece of furniture and break something or some bone and have the anticipation of the last few hours amount to nothing. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon through the half dozen or so windows flanking each side of the room and while it was enough to keep from being totally blind it wasn’t enough to convince me to go traipsing around an unfamiliar place. I stood still, listening to him close and lock the door behind us. I opened my mouth to try and make some witty comment only to squeal when he grabbed my elbow, spinning me around and pressing me against the paneled wood door.

“Do you remember me telling you there were things I wanted to do to you that would make anybody else run away?” He leaned in to me, the soft brush of lips over my brow and cheeks in direct contrast to the hard lines of his body. “Things that would make you beg and moan and scream?”

“Yes.” I dragged my hands down his torso only to slip my fingers under the hem of his shirt, already desperate to touch him. I didn’t like it, not really, the ache to feel his skin, but I’d worry about it later. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to warn me or throwing down a gauntlet.”

“Neither.” He reached between us, grabbing my wrists with one hand and jerking them above my head, all but slamming them against the door. “Just telling you how things are going to be.”

“Talk is cheap.” I shifted until I was able to scrape my teeth over his earlobe. “Show me.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, he popped open the button on my jeans and slipped his hand inside the small gap. He cursed, his breath hitching for a moment when he realized the only thing under the worn denim was skin. Sliding his hand lower, he cupped my cunt in his calloused palm before sinking two fingers deep inside, finding my G-spot with uncanny precision.

I didn’t scream. I think I was still too proud to do that. But I did let out a gasping moan, my entire body going taut before I went limp, sagging against him, dropping my head on his shoulder. Before I had time to recover, to even draw a good breath, he rubbed his thumb over my clit before scraping the nail across the overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

This time I did scream, low and hoarse, when the orgasm tore through me.

The next few minutes were a blur, punctuated by the sound of clothing ripping, button scattering, cursing from both of us as we stumbled our way across the room. My jeans hit the floor a second before my back hit the mattress, his shirt following seconds later. He shoved my legs apart with his shoulders, blowing a stream of air over my stomach before sliding lower, slicking his tongue over my cunt, humming low in his throat.

That was when I discovered the bar over his eyebrow wasn’t his only piercing.

I fisted my hands in his hair, clamping my thighs around his head and arching my hips against him. I liked oral sex. Or at least I liked the concept of it. I hadn’t been with a man who had more than a passing interest in giving, although they were all more than eager to have their cock in my mouth. This man, though....

He licked. Sucked. Nibbled. And he did it all with the fervor of a man worshipping God.

The orgasms came in waves, the second hard on the heels of the first, the third starting almost before the second ended. My hands slipped from his hair, resting limply on his shoulders, and if anybody had asked me if I was trying to pull him closer or push him away I wouldn’t have been able to answer them. The muscles in my thighs trembled before going weak, falling open wide, the stretching of my tendons almost painful.

He pressed a single, soft kiss to my cunt before shifting upward, pressing another kiss to my stomach. “No, you don’t. We’re far from finished.”

“I need... something. Water.” And a few minutes to breathe. I pushed up on my elbows, shaking my hair out of my face and managing a smile. “Please?”

“Sure.” He slid off the bed in a smooth roll, padding noiselessly across the room and around a corner, the harsh fluorescent light from the refrigerator cutting through the dark for a few seconds as he opened and closed the door. Gliding back, he handed me a small bottle of water, perching on the edge of the bed and taking a few sips from his own bottle. “Drink up.”

Instead of answering, I did just that, all but moaning in gratitude with the first sip. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I set the bottle on the nightstand and flopped back down on the mattress. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Orgasms are thirsty work.” He set his own bottle down, rolling over and straddling me, cupping my breasts in his hands. He stroked his thumbs over my nipples, chuckling when I bit my lip in an effort to hold back a groan. “And I told you, we’re far from finished.”

He leaned down and before I had to time to realize what he planned to do, he pressed his lips to mine, slipping his tongue in to my mouth with the same skill with which he’d found my G-spot. I laid there awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do. I didn’t kiss. I just... didn’t. Kissing was intimate in a way fucking wasn’t and I didn’t believe in intimacy.

Still. This was... nice.

So when he eased away, I couldn’t hold back a sigh of disappointment, palming the nape of his neck and attempting to pull him closer. He laughed again, lower this time, the sound resonating through him and in to me. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I pushed upward, rolling us until I was astride him, leaning down and scraping my teeth over his collarbone. I slid down his torso, swirling my tongue over first one nipple and then the other, letting out a chuckle of my own when he groaned and fisted one hand in my hair. Pushing his arm away, I continued my downward slide, settling myself between his thighs and getting a good look at his cock for the first time.

I can’t say why I was surprised to discover he had a Prince Albert piercing, the curved barbell small and discreet, and yet I was. Looking up at him through my hair, I said, “Is there anything you don’t have pierced?”

“I’ve been considering getting my belly button pierced but I don’t think I can pull it off.”

The giggle bubbled out of me before I could help myself, high and bright and definitely not appropriate for a hookup. Swallowing down a second giggle, I said, “Well, you have the abs for it.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never been a fan of belly shirts.” He stroked the hair back from my face, gathering the tangled mass in a loose ponytail and tugging lightly. “Now, are we going to make bad jokes or are you going to suck my cock?”

Well, given those choices....

Grasping his cock in one hand, I slicked my tongue over and around the head, spending a few extra seconds playing with the small silver balls at either end of the piercing before sucking him deep in my mouth. He was thick, pleasantly so, enough I was already imagining how he’d feel thrusting inside me, and long, but not so long that trying to fuck him would be an exercise in Twister. If I’d been asked to describe a perfect cock, his would come pretty damn close.

So I gave his cock as much time and attention as he’d given my cunt and if his moans were any indication, he appreciated my efforts as much as I’d appreciated his.

When his cock started to pulse, I squeezed the base and pulled back, licking the head one last time before straightening as much as his grip on my hair would allow. “I don’t want you to come yet.”

“I don’t want to come yet, either.” He pulled me up, rolling me over and pressing me in to the mattress. When he kissed me this time, I didn’t hesitate to respond, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him tighter against me. He didn’t break the kiss until we were both breathless, his next words coming out as a gasp. “I’ve got my latest blood tests in the nightstand if you want to see them. I’m clean.”

It took far longer than it should have for me to realize what he wasn’t and wasn’t saying. Clearing my throat, I said, “Me, too. And I’m on birth control.”

“Good.” He pushed my thighs apart, slid his hands under my ass, and canted my hips up before easing his cock inside me, not stopping his forward thrust until his hips were against mine. He dropped his head, his chin against his chest, his breathing harsh and shuddered. “Fuck, you feel good.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, clenching my jaw even as my cunt rippled around his cock. The barbell scraped over my G-spot, applying the perfect amount of pressure while his pubic bone pressed directly against my clit. Saying he felt ‘good’ was something of an understatement. “Yeah, you, too.”

“Some of the things I wanted to do to you....” He trailed off, rolling his hips more than thrusting, sliding his hands up my thighs and helping me wrap my legs around his waist before leaning forward and brushing his lips over mine. “They may have to wait until next time.”

“Next time?” I squealed, tightening my grip around his neck when he lifted me, pressing one hand to the small of my back and the other between my shoulder blades, shifting me until I was essentially sitting on his thighs. I swallowed again and rasped out, “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

“What makes you think there isn’t?” He lifted me a fraction of an inch, both of us sighing when I eased down his cock. He sank his teeth in to my shoulder, dragging his nails down my spine with a groan. “You really want to give this up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shifted, wrapping my legs tighter around him, flexing the muscles in my cunt at the same time, the movement wringing a whimper from me as his piercing rubbed over my beyond sensitive skin. “No.”

“Me, neither.” He lifted and dropped me again, faster this time, harder, and I sucked in a quick breath, squeezing his cock tighter. “So just let me fuck you until we can’t see straight and we’ll save the intense stuff for next time.”

“Right. Sure. Okay.” I captured his mouth with mine, biting his lower lip until he hissed, digging his nails in to my hips. “Fuck me, then.”

From there, it was a hard, fast ride to the finish, punctuated by a series of gunshot quick orgasms he didn’t give me time to recover from before driving me up to the next one. I pressed my face to the curve of his neck, my breath hitching in my lungs, my entire body trembling. “Oh, God.”

“Close, but not my name.” He wheezed out a laugh which tapered off in to a groan when I flexed my inner muscles. “Do that again and I’m going to come.”

I turned my head, taking his mouth with mine again. And flexed my muscles.

He hadn’t been lying. He orgasmed in a series of short bursts, the unfamiliar warmth flooding through me as one last orgasm wracked my body. I went limp, sagging against him, my head spinning as he tipped us backward on to the mattress. We rolled away from each other, sweaty and breathless, and I fumbled desperately for the bottle of water on the nightstand.

“Either hand me mine or share.” He slapped my ass lightly, almost playfully, before resting his palm there. “I need fluids and rest before we go again.”

“I have to get home.” I squinted at the clock, trying to figure out where the last ninety minutes had gone. Wherever they’d went, it was close to four in the morning and I was too sober for a sleepover. “I have... responsibilities.”

“Don’t we all.” The mattress shifted under me and a moment later he brushed his lips over my shoulder. “If you really have to go, then go. You know where to find me.”

“Yeah.” I turned, leaning down and giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll see you around.”

––––––––

MORNING CAME FAR too early, but at least I didn’t greet it with a hangover. I opened my bedroom door just as Tammy stepped out of the bathroom, shiny and prim and proper. We both stared at each other for a moment, Tammy recovering before I did. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“You were asleep.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, studying what was no doubt her church dress. All she needed was a hat and some white gloves and she’d fit in perfectly with the Baptists. “Call your friend and tell her you don’t need a ride. I’ll take you kids this morning.”

“What?” She widened her eyes, her jaw dropping open for the briefest of seconds before she regained control. “I mean, why?”

“Maybe I feel like I need God this morning.” I stepped back in my bedroom before she could accuse me of being sacrilegious, cursing myself for being impulsive even as I flipped through my mental closet, trying to determine if I even owned something church appropriate.

It turned out the only thing even close was the dress I’d worn to Loretta’s viewing and funeral and while it wouldn’t have been my first choice... well, you made do with what you had.

I paid absolutely no attention to the sermon, going over the mental list of things I needed to do at the magazine and the house next week. I was picking out paint for my office when Tammy elbowed me in the ribs and all but pushed me out of the pew and in to the aisle. Scowling over my shoulder at her, I said, “What?”

“The service is over.” She nudged me aside, shooing Dolly and Conway out in to the aisle ahead of us before linking her arm with mine. “Normally we’d go back to Sandy’s house and eat lunch.”

“Why don’t you pick another restaurant and we’ll try it out.” My smile faltered when I caught sight of an all too familiar figure. He was wearing a suit instead of jeans but I’d recognize that ass anywhere. Leaning toward Tammy and lowering my voice, I said, “Who’s the guy?”

“Which guy?” She followed my gaze and rolled her eyes, ruining the attempt at disgust when she also let out a small sigh. “Oh, him. Yeah. He’s the reason about half the women are here.”

“Right, but who is he?”

“That’s Abraham. Abraham Hansom.” She glanced up at me. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah.” I all but felt the color drain from my face as memories from last night flashed through my mind. “Yeah, I know him.”

Fuck. Me.