Chapter Two

Constantine followed Chloe’s path while she wove her way through the crowded tables and out the front door. The loss of her hit deep in his chest the moment the metal and glass barrier slid into place. A pang of grief jabbed his sternum.

How could she affect him to such a degree? Beautiful women passed in and out of his establishment every day. Yet, the instant he spotted Chloe … her long, lovely neck, partially hidden by strands of chestnut hair, through the two-way glass of his office, he couldn’t look away. Face to face, she was even more intriguing. Her sharp, yet delicate features demanded his attention. Studying her from behind the two-way mirror, he’d stood idle for ten straight minutes. Only when she began re-checking her phone had his need to meet her propelled him into motion. He couldn’t let her leave without learning her name.

She fidgeted with nervous energy and a seeming desire to blend into the cool metal surface of the bar. Didn’t she realize her natural beauty was worth more than any other woman in the room could ever pay in plastic surgery bills? The majority of patrons entered his establishment to be seen. Rubbing elbows with the up-and-comers made the average Joes believe they were hipper by proximity. So, why did the charming little wisp of a woman with her basic blouse and awkward shoulder shrugs demand his attention?

He arranged their close encounter when her annoyance at perhaps being stood up reached its peak. What type of moron would ghost this willowy, non-conforming, and exceptional woman? A total class-A moron. And their loss had definitely become his gain.

Constantine had increased his pace to arrive squarely behind her as she turned from her seat at the bar. The maneuver worked better than intended. Her pouty little mouth connected with his left pec, leaving a perfect impression of her kissable lips behind. His fingers caressed the delicious stain. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever wash the shirt again.

The pale blue of her irises was nothing short of inspiring. His obvious interest in her hadn’t gotten her to stay. Was she involved with someone? A natural beauty like Chloe must have dozens of admirers.

“Hey, Con-man,” said a regular patron, moving into Chloe’s vacated seat.

“Hi, Phil,” he said, clasping the man’s shoulder. “Try the smoked whiskey.” He bent to lean one hand on the bar. “Tyrese,” he called, swiftly gaining the new head bartender’s attention. “Two of your newest creations.”

Phil rubbed his palms together. “Great, I need something strong after the day I’ve had.”

The stressed-out businessman proceeded to recount his hectic afternoon. Constantine nodded, allowing his mind to travel. Chloe. Her name danced through his brain and his imagination created a seductive image of her lying on his desk while he worshipped her between her legs. The need to taste her, to hear her moan and beg for more, caused a tightening in his groin.

Damn. He had it bad.

A soft hand caressed his arm and squeezed his bicep. He turned, half-expecting to find his fantasy woman, returning and sensing his yearning.

Angie Jones, a bi-weekly patron and the last woman he’d fooled around with, flashed an over-polished grin. Her dark-red lipstick streaked her front teeth. Enhanced breasts that could only reside naturally on someone twice her size rubbed against his arm.

He fought the urge to shrug her off like an overzealous time-share salesman. No way was he buying what she offered. He couldn’t remember what he’d found attractive about her before. Tonight, he couldn’t see past her collagen lips and fake eyelashes. Was there anything real left of this woman?

“Hello, gorgeous,” she whispered, her hand sliding down his back and squeezing his left buttock.

Now he recalled. She had offered to drop to her knees and suck his cock in the middle of the bar. Not having engaged in carnal pleasure for a few weeks prior, he moved them into the men’s room and let her do her thing. Afterward, she wasn’t interested in a reciprocal act. Free drinks for the night and a couple of selfies with him seemed to be her preferred form of pleasure.

Tonight, her touch repulsed him. He collected one of the drinks Ty slid onto the bar and stepped away. “Phil, have you met Angie?” He gently manipulated her into his place. “Phil works at Denton & Black. He’s one of their best legal eagles.”

He could see the dollar signs flashing in Angie’s aqua-green contact lens. No irises on the planet were that shade.

Her arm slunk around Phil’s shoulders and she draped across him like a scarf.

An instant of remorse toward the unsuspecting man flashed, but was quickly dashed when Phil offered to buy her generous cleavage a drink. Phil wouldn’t remember the color of her eyes tomorrow if his life depended on the answer.

Constantine sipped his smoky drink and went to his office. He needed privacy. Space. Solitude. Somewhere to make a plan.

The normal sounds and smells of the crowded restaurant, which meant another month in the black, should’ve felt good. Instead, the noise and cloying odors closed in on him. A sense of claustrophobia buzzed in his ears. Retreating into his inner sanctum, he breathed in a long, cleansing breath.

No women, or other employees, had ever entered this private domain. Inside these four walls, he was free to relax and let the world and its fake faces fade. No residue from shallow, empty sex tarnished this sanctuary.

Fantasies of Chloe, lying naked, legs spread on his desk swirled, mixing with the smoky haze flavoring his drink. The urge to bend her over the mahogany surface caused his cock to jerk. The sensation pulled him back to reality. Would he actually welcome her inside this sacred space?

Yes. Yes, he would. Her sweet, understated sexual energy deserved better than a men’s room stall, or back alley bump and grind.

He would absolutely break his no-women-in-the-inner-office rule if she were willing.

Would the natural beauty ever consider making his fantasy come true?

He walked over to the two-way mirror. A man strolling by paused to check his hair. Constantine’s wicked imagination pictured Chloe’s pert breasts smashed against the glass while he took her from behind. His hard-on swelled.

Had he locked the door? A quick click secured no one could enter. For the first time in years, he needed the relief that only a fantasy and his hand could fulfill.

At his desk, he settled into his leather chair and unzipped his pants. Taking out his cock, he grinned like a school boy. A rush of excitement tingled across his exposed skin.

God, he prayed his dream woman came back soon.

He closed his eyes and pictured her on his business-only desk, legs wide and touching herself.

His cock throbbed with need. He licked his palm and used the drop of pre-cum at the tip for lube.

If she didn’t return soon, he’d end up with serious callouses.

His horn-dog fantasy and a steady rhythm brought him to climax.

The next time Chloe entered his establishment, he would do everything in his power to make sure his fantasies became reality.