Dallon wiped down the bar for what seemed the hundredth time. Damn. Was the night ever going to end? He didn’t want to be there. He loved the bar, loved being in the bar, loved owning his third of the bar. It was his home, his haven, but tonight he just couldn’t muster up the energy for it.
Tossing the rag in the sink, he braced his hands on the edge. He knew exactly why he was so restless. The woman he’d met at the grocery store earlier in the day. Carrie.
He’d walked out carrying his purchases and stopped dead when he heard her voice. She was talking on the phone and he did nothing but stare at her. Dressed conservatively in a knee-length skirt that hugged her hips and a blindingly white, stiffly starched button-down shirt, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and all he wanted was to pull on it. He’d wanted her on her knees right then and there, sucking the hell out of his dick while he held his bags of pretzels and cans of peanuts in one hand and pulled on that ponytail with the other. And here, hours later, he wanted her still, naked on the bar, with her legs over his shoulders while he ate at her pussy. He wanted her and the innocence in her eyes so much he hurt.
They spoke briefly when she’d approached him and asked for directions to her new job. She’d explained that she was new in town, knew how to find her way from her apartment to where she would be working, but that she’d gotten all turned around while running errands and was lost. As she talked, all he could see in his mind was his ass burning in hell for the outrageously impure thoughts he was having about her mouth, her tits in a bra he figured was serviceable and not at all sexy, and the holy land between her thighs. He’d had virgins and innocents before, and at times loved being the one to pop cherries. But this particular cherry was not going to be picked by him because she worked at the one place he swore never to associate with again. She was off limits.
What a goddamn fucking shame, too.
She’d asked his name and had willingly given hers, something he could have gone without knowing because now he knew what to call out when he came later. And that was only going to make it worse. Her name on his lips, frolicking around in his mind.
Dallon looked up at the clock. Thirty minutes and he could close everything down for the night. He could lock up and head upstairs, jack off to the memory of her sweet, soft self. It was probably a good thing he didn’t know where she lived or that’s where he’d be going. He didn’t think someone like her would venture into a bar, so he was safe there too, even though she’d asked where he worked and if it was likely she’d be seeing him again, how it would be nice to have at least one friend.
He’d cursed himself for telling her where the bar was at the same moment he was giving her those directions too. Resisting temptation had never been his strong suit and damned if he wasn’t tempted from head to toe by her lush body and sweet voice and dark chocolate eyes.
“Hello, Dallon.”
His head shot up and his gaze landed on her. “What the hell are you doing here?” he barked.
Her eyes widened at his harsh tone, but she hadn’t missed a step. He hadn’t meant to, but he was too close to the edge. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just …” She smiled and his words fell away. God help him.
She walked closer to the bar and him, undeterred, unruffled. “It’s all right. I’m as surprised as you are. Maybe more so.”
Perhaps she wasn’t as unruffled as he thought.
She was so pretty, though. So sweet, so downy and pure. He wanted to defile every inch of her flesh until nothing could ever erase the memory of him from her skin. He wanted her, but he really fucking needed her to leave. “You shouldn’t be here, Carrie.” Literally, the man or woman upstairs needed to send a bolt of lightning south and strike him dead for the thoughts he was having about this woman.
“Why not? This is a bar and I want a drink.”
He sighed. Why not, she asked. There were a million reasons. Dirty ones, lovely ones.
Something about the way his heart sped up around her, the way his gut knotted just thinking about her. She had that … that thing he’d heard people wax poetic about. She had that draw on him the way Elise had on his buddy Vinter.
The kinds of things he wanted to do to her, that she wanted him to do to her, would ruin him for any other woman. He could twist her and she’d let him. Happily.
“A drink, huh? Anything in particular?” He’d bet the night’s take that she’d never had a drink in her life.
If he were a smart man, he wouldn’t give her a drop. He’d instead, escort her out, lock the door behind her, and close the place until she was well and truly ensconced with the holier than thou up the road.
“Maybe a beer?”
“Maybe a beer? Really? Okay. You want what’s on tap or a bottle? You want dark or light? You want something local or something that you can buy down at the Jiffy?”
“I, uh … How about one of those with the lime? I like lime. You know the one I’m talking about? Their commercials have couples on the beach or friends gathering in a backyard.”
Couple on the beach. Right. Friendly gatherings. And she liked lime.
Dallon shook his head. If she wasn’t sitting in front of him, he’d have laughed. She was way out of her element with him and she had to know it. It was as clear as the sign on the outside of the building. “You ever had a beer?”
“I … Yes.”
“Liar.”
“Am not.”
He let it go and pulled three bottles from a chest. Their customers liked bottles dripping with ice and water. He didn't mind. The bar was about good times, good booze, and good snacks. He could make a hell of a cup of coffee, too.
He popped the top on the three beers and set them on the counter in front of her. Two he slid a lime in, one said Lime on the label.
“Be easy with it. Don’t take a big swallow at first.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she said, picking up the one labeled light with lime. It was the cute how her nose wrinkled when she took a sniff.
“That the one you meant?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t, but she was going to go down fibbing about it and he admired her for it.
“Do you like beer?”
The question struck him as odd because what did it matter if he liked it? But as he watched her eyes, he saw the uncertainty and the bravado begin to slip.
She needed to know she wasn't alone. That’s why it mattered to her. And that’s why it mattered to him. “Yeah. Every now and then I like to have a few.”
She gave a short nod and put the bottle to her lips. “Okay.”
Dallon watched as long as he could after she wrapped her mouth around the glass edge. She tilted it, letting some of the smooth, golden liquid flow. He bit back a groan and looked away. All he could think about was her lips wrapped around his dick, and her throat swallowing his come.
“So, ah … What do you think?”
She took another small sip, then a bigger sip, and then set the bottle back down on the bar. “It’s hard to describe. It’s not a pleasant taste, but it’s not a bad one either.” She smiled. “I … I like it.” Even as she nudged it away. “How much do I owe you?”
“That’s all you wanted? A couple of sips? Needed to wet your whistle, as they used to say?”
“I guess, yeah. Something like that.”
“You don’t owe me anything. It’s on the house.”
“Oh, I couldn’t accept that,” she said, and slipped her hand into her purse.
Dallon reached across the bar and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. The contact was sizzling hot and he fought against the urge to snatch his hand away, and the urge to drag her toward him. “Yes, you can accept it. It’s on the house,” he said again. He didn’t want to let go, but he did. It was time for her to leave, time for him to lock up and forget he’d ever met her. He liked being single, unencumbered. He liked one-night stands and no morning-after awkwardness. If he had her once, he’d have her again and again. Not good for his peace of mind and his carefree existence. And he was no fucking good for her. “I need to close up, Carrie.”
He didn’t know what else to say, but she didn’t respond. She was looking around the bar, turning full circle on the stool. When she faced him again, she picked up the bottle and took another swallow. Damn, but she had a pretty mouth.
“I don’t want to leave.”
Shit. He’d know she was going to say something like that. The girl didn’t take a hint. Or maybe she did and simply chose to ignore it.
Don’t say anything, man. Not a word. Not a single solitary goddamn word. “You should.”
She raised her eyes to look him square in his, a silent challenge reflected there. The bravado was back full force. “Why?”
He planted his hands on the edge of the bar and leaned toward her until he could smell the beer on her breath. “Because you don’t me. You don’t know who I am and you don’t know what fire you’re playing with.”
She licked her lips. “Who … Who are you?”
No sense lying about it or anything else now. “The devil himself.” At least that’s what his father told him every time they were in the same room together.
“Now who’s lying.”
And there it was. Even if he could protect her, she didn’t want protection from him. “You asked directions to the college earlier.”
“They offered me a job a few weeks ago in their financial aid department. A favor to my father who’s an alumnus. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
“The dean is my father. He’s also the pastor of the big downtown Baptist church here.”
“Oh. Does he know you work in a bar?”
“Do your parents know you’re in a bar drinking beer?”
She blushed and Dallon’s jeans tightened that much more. Pretty soon he wouldn’t be to take a step without wincing.
“That’s what I thought. You don’t need to be messing with me, Carrie. If ever there was a black sheep, I’m it. My reputation is very, very bad, and it's best that you go. Now.”
She lowered her gaze and he thought he’d gotten through to her. He hadn’t said much, but he hoped it was enough. When she looked back up at him, he knew he was in deep trouble by the sheen of tears. She took a shaky breath before she spoke again.
“I quit my job.”
She said it so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d heard right, but the determined set of her jaw told him he had. “Before you even started? Why?”
She blinked to keep the tears from falling. “I want something in my life that is all mine, that no one else has a say in. I’ve never had that kind of freedom and now that I’m out on my own, out from under my parents’ thumbs, I want it.”
Don’t ask, man. Please for the love of all that is twisted and dirty, don’t fucking ask. “That’s all you want? Freedom? You’re on your own. Freedom is what you’ve got. To do and be whoever you want. Having a job helps with that.”
“You don’t understand.”
But he was afraid he did. And if he asked one more question, uttered one more phrase, FedEx was going to bust through the doors. They’d package his ass up, deliver him straight to Hell by ten tomorrow morning. Guaranteed. “What else do you want?”
“You.”
His dick throbbed at the word. “I’m not the kind of guy you need. I don’t do good girls,” which was a huge lie, “and you are one. I don’t do tears either. Unless of course they’re the kind that come from me spanking the shit out of you. Or … The kind that come from you begging me to stop fucking your ass so hard. But those tears you have right now? Nope. I don’t do those tears.”
As he spoke, shock widened her eyes, her mouth formed a little “O”, and her cheeks turned a delectable shade of dark pink. She curled her fingers under, then flattened them out on the bar, pressing down until the tips were white. Had that finally gotten through to her? Had he finally said the right thing to get her to leave?
“Well, okay.”
Her body relaxed, and she dropped her hands and her gaze to her lap. Yes, she got it. Dallon breathed a sigh of frustrated relief and ignored the pinch of disappointment. He wasn’t right for her. She was too clean for him.
He almost had himself convinced, but then she spoke. It was hard to hear her at first, but as she continued, her voice grew louder with anger.
“It’s not up to you to decide what kind of guy I need. If you don’t want me, if I’m not the kind of woman that you … that you ‘do’, that’s one thing …” Her gaze clashed with his. She was full of fire and when the light hit those dark brown irises of hers … Fuck.
“… But don’t tell me what I do and don’t need. I’ve had enough of that in my life. I can make my own choices, my own decisions.”
Dallon smiled. His little innocent had spunk. He should’ve known better. The good girls always did.
“Look, I get it. I’ve been there. I’m trying to keep a promise and I’m trying to do the right thing. Not for me, but for you.”
“I don’t need you to do the right thing for me. I’m a big girl.”
That she was. All grown up and his for the taking.
“What promise?”
She asked questions as though she knew him. As though they’d known each other their whole lives. As though she wasn’t prying into private shit that was none of her business. Normally, he didn’t go for that and would tell the person to fuck off. But not her. She could ask any damn thing she wanted, and he’d tell her. “To my father. Told him I wouldn’t mess with girls from his Bible thumpin’ school.”
“I see. Well, I’m not one of those anymore, so you’re not breaking a promise. Technically speaking.”
Well, shit. Now what? If she wasn’t going to take his hints or his flat out telling her to go, how was he supposed to fight her? Was he supposed to fight her and the lust clawing through him? Oh, he knew that he should still walk away, that he should try harder to convince her he was bad news, but he wasn’t going to. The woman said she wanted him and he was naughty enough that he was going to let her have him. “Okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t tell you what you need. And I do want you, but I don’t want you to have any regrets after, either. That’s how a lot of these things turn out. I’m a self-admitted bastard and I don’t play by the same rules as other guys. I don’t want you hurt when I don’t turn out all sweet and tender with you. I don’t want you crying when who I am between the sheets isn’t the green grass you thought looked good from the other side of the street.”
“Oh. I’m glad. That you want me too, I mean.”
She was looking everywhere but at him now, and he had to bite back a laugh. She was going to be more fun than he’d first imagined.
He took the beer from in front of her and poured it down the sink.
“Why are you doing that?”
“I want you sober and neither of us know how much you can handle without getting tipsy.”
“Okay.”
He eased around the end of the bar and over to the door. “Now or never, Carrie. This is your last chance to go.” She watched him and shook her head, a slow left to right movement. She didn’t make any other moves or sounds. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
“N-no.”
Another little lie from her pretty lips. She would need confession before they finished. He flipped the lock into place, the sound of the metal sliding into its chamber echoing loud in the empty room. The lights were next, but he only turned off the ones in the main room. Behind the bar was still lit. That one would go out soon, too. Much as he wanted to see her naked and spread on the dark wood, he wanted her in his bed this first time.
“I want this. No sense being nervous or uncertain after putting myself in this position.”
Her words didn’t match her actions, though she’d put him in his place for telling her what she did and didn’t want or need. She would be a hellcat once out of the shell that cloaked her.
Measured steps took Dallon back toward her until he stood in front of her. He reached out and brushed at the hair that curled around her face. “You said your father went to school here. You didn’t?” He asked the question as he wedged himself between her knees. If his bent a little, and if he pushed forward …
Instead, he continued to touch her, watching the soft waves of her hair wrap themselves around his fingers.
He might have said he wouldn’t be tender, but damn, she had conflicting effects on him.
“No. I … I attended one in Tennessee. My father secured the position and the apartment for me. I’ve only been here a couple of days and got myself turned around.”
Her breathing trembled. Her eyes dilated. Her cheeks turned a pretty pink.
Too many people tried to rule over others’ lives. Dallon knew exactly what that was like. “Tell me more of what made you quit.”
“You. I t-told you. And f-freedom to be my own p-person.”
The pulse in her throat throbbed a bit harder and he pressed his thumb against it. It was only a light touch. He liked knowing he affected her so much. “And I told you to tell me more, about either, I don’t care.”
“I want you. I’ve never wanted a man like this before. I’m not even sure I’ve ever wanted a man.”
“Explain.”
“I mean … I mean no man has ever … I mean … This is hard. I don’t know what you want me to say.” She pressed her lips together then let out a breath. He waited. “I haven’t dated much. I’ve been with guys, back in college, but it was only to experiment with s-sex. They were nice enough and I liked them, I guess, but … It wasn’t like this.”
“Keep going. You’re doing good.” She’d become bolder as she talked. She’d warm up to the frankness and the honesty. If she didn’t, she’d bolt. Dallon wasn’t going to push her either way.
She wanted freedom. With him, she had it.
Sure, he’d said she couldn’t leave after he locked the doors. But that was his own little white lie. She could leave anytime. Then, or now.
“I didn’t have much free time. But I wanted the experience. I wanted to know what it felt like, to feel something with someone else.”
“I understand what you’re saying. Why me?” His fingers drifted to her collarbone, tracing the delicate skin, before moving down her arms, to her hands. Lifting them, he placed them on his hips. She was hesitant for a second, but then she tugged and pulled at his belt loops. Heat wormed its way from his chest down to his crotch.
“Why not you?”
Thank you for reading.