A Guy Walks Into My Bar

by Lauren Blakely

  “I think it’s obvious that James is enjoying it.” Emma nudges my elbow. “Thanks to you being his guide.”

  “Good thing I found one for us,” I tease. “If you were in charge, we’d be lost, and we’d have ordered the wrong tea.”

  Emma lifts her teacup, laughing. “Okay, so I’m a little directionally challenged. Sue me.”

  “‘A little’? Pretty sure a couple decades of family vacations would suggest otherwise.” I drape an arm around her shoulder. “When we were little, she got lost at Disneyland.”

  “Hey, it’s a big place!” She holds up her hands just as her phone buzzes. Grabbing it from her purse, she checks it and looks up, a little contrite.

  “Oh, shoot. That’s the guy from the company I’m renting the flat from. He wants me to give him a call. You two will have to handle the scones without me. James, can you meet me at the Tube station in forty minutes so we can go over together to get the key?”

  “Don’t go without me. I want to make sure it’s all good.”

  “I know, I know,” she says, then turns to Dean. “He won’t let me get the key till he makes sure the guy renting it to me meets with his approval. He’s protective.”

  Dean nods approvingly. “That’s smart of him. Also, might as well put those ice-defender-or-what-have-you skills to good use.”

  She wiggles her fingers in a wave goodbye as she steps away from the table. I can’t tell if she’s serious about needing to take a phone call now or setting me up again, but in pure Emma form, she’s hugging us goodbye and rushing out of the tea salon before I can ask.

  And I honestly don’t care, especially when I turn back to Dean.

  “Ice defender? Really?”

  He simply shrugs. “What can I say? Hockey’s not my thing.” He doesn’t say it dismissively. It’s more like he says it . . . deliciously. As if he’s letting me read between the lines again, saying without saying that he’s not into me for the number on my jersey, like plenty of guys in New York are.

  And that’s another point in his favor. Dean’s not trying to bag a pro athlete. I kinda love it. But I’m not telling him that. No way am I revealing that yet. Instead, I say something else entirely true. “Thank you for chatting up Emma. Means a lot to me.”

  “She’s lovely. Inquisitive mind—I can tell.”

  “Yes, that describes her perfectly. She’s also always in motion. Never slows down.”

  He lifts a brow. “She seems to always be working the angles. She’s quite a wingwoman for you.”

  I laugh. “I guess we’ll see how good she is at it.”

  His eyes travel up and down my frame in that hungry way he has of looking at me. “I have a feeling she’ll be quite good at it.”

  And I heat up again, the flames licking inside me as he cracks open the conversation I want to have. “Does that mean you’re giving me another yes?”

  “Your favorite word, Fitz. I wonder if that’s the one I’ll be saying to you today,” he says, and holy fuck, this man is so damn sexy with the way he talks, the way he teases me.

  I lean back in my chair, stretching out my arm across the edge of Dean’s chair, toying with him like he’s toying with me. “I wonder too. Or maybe you still plan to resist me.”

  He never looks away. Just keeps those dark eyes locked on mine. “As I told you, I have a rule about sleeping with customers.”

  “Ah, but I’m not one of your customers anymore.”

  “You were, though, and now I’ve lost the bet with Maeve.”

  I frown, confused. “What bet?”

  “Maeve and I have an ongoing wager. Sort of like a deal about not going home with customers. If one of us does, we owe the other extra chores.”

  “Interesting. Did you have to pay up yesterday just for those kisses?”

  “She made me mop. Such a taskmaster.”

  “Did that bother you? All the deep cleaning?”

  He strokes his chin, like he’s seriously considering the question. “No. Not in the least. I might owe her more though.”

  That piques my interest a whole helluva lot. “So, you really have to pay up if you sleep with me?” Just saying that aloud, getting closer to what I want, makes my skin sizzle and my dick throb.

  Especially since he takes his time, licking his lips before he answers, punctuating each word. “So. Many. Chores.”

  The look in his eyes is driving me wild. The desire I see there matches mine.

  I swallow roughly, my throat as dry as the Sahara, lust pounding through me. Lowering my arm, I slide it under the table, spreading my palm across his thigh. “Worth it.”

  A rumble seems to work its way up his chest as he widens his legs the slightest bit. “Possibly.”

  “Definitely.”

  He takes a deep breath, his tone suddenly serious. “But listen, this is just a fling. Nothing more. I want to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

  “We are absolutely on the same page.”

  “I’ve had some exes get a little . . . clingy. I don’t want that. I have the bar to think about. Maeve and I are just about to pay off our loan. I don’t want anything to get in the way of business.”

  I grin. “I know the feeling. But trust me, Dean. I have training camp after this. Plus, I’m wrapping up a new sponsorship deal. I’ll be so damn busy in New York, you won’t even hear from me after I get on the plane on Thursday at two. I’ll be in and out of your life like that.”

  “In that case, there’s one more thing we ought to tackle.”

  12

  Dean

  Rules are important. It’s good to lay them out in advance. But so are expectations, so you’re on the same page in the bedroom.

  Returning the favor, I slide a hand up his leg, knowing it drives him wild because evidently I drive him wild. It’s heady, this power. Addictive too.

  Fitz’s eyes darken as I touch him. Then I ask the necessary question. “So, how’s it going to be if we do this?”

  He knows what I’m asking, and he answers instantly. “I want to fuck you, Dean.”

  I had a feeling. It was clear from the second his eyes swept over my body at the bar. From some of the things he’s said too. But it’s best to be up-front. “I thought you might.”

  He lifts a brow in question. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

  “What if it is?” I toss back. I can’t resist playing with him.

  “Say it’s not.” It comes out as a command, his voice hot, desperate. He looks like he’ll die of lust if he doesn’t get his hands on me soon. It’s a good look—a good feeling.

  And I feel the same, but I can tell Fitz likes the chase, so I give it to him.

  I smirk, then shrug, still revealing nothing.

  He growls, bringing his face closer to my neck, his voice low and husky near my ear. “I want you so much. Want to get your clothes off. Get my hands on you. Feel you under me.” Fitz’s beard scratches my neck. He flicks his tongue against my ear, dropping his voice to a filthy whisper. “I want to be inside you.”

  His words scorch my blood, make me red-hot all over.

  I release a breath, meet his gaze, then give him what he wants. Fortunately, it’s what I want too. “Lucky for you, Fitz, I’m quite versatile.”

  His grin is wide, his groan deeply satisfied. “That is the sexiest thing you’ve ever said, and everything you say is sexy. Have I told you how much I like hearing you talk? Your accent turns me on.”

  “Seems everything I do does.”

  “It does. It absolutely does.”

  I look at my watch, the seconds ticking too fast. “You have to meet Emma soon. Where is your hotel?”

  “Close. A couple of blocks away.”

  “Good.” I take his hand off my leg and set it on the table. “Here’s how this is going to work. You might want to fuck me right now, but that’s not going to happen. Want to know why?”

  He wastes no time answering. “Because we’re going to take our time, make it last, screw all night long.
”

  “Exactly. I want to enjoy every second of it. I want to feel you deep inside me. I don’t want a quickie. I want to be driven mad with lust as you fuck me to the edge of pleasure. And that’s going to take more than thirty minutes.”

  His eyes are drunk with desire, dark with lust. “A lot more than thirty minutes.”

  “But my calculations indicate we have just enough time for other things.” I lower my voice. “Plenty of time for me to get on my knees and suck you off. Shall we go?”

  Fitz scrubs a hand across the back of his neck, his voice hoarse. “You’re killing me. You are the sexiest man I’ve ever met. You know that, right?”

  People say things in the heat of the moment, but he looks like he means it.

  “I suspect it’ll be hard for you to walk right now. Why don’t I go ahead and I’ll meet you in the lobby, and you can think about tea cakes or the queen or something on the way over?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. Don’t care. And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  He pays the bill and rises, an impressive impression in his trousers.

  Well, I’m not complaining about that.

  In the hotel, the elevator doors close, and we crash into each other. Fitz pushes me to the wall and kisses me hard. “You wind me up, make me feel wild,” he murmurs when he breaks the kiss.

  “You want me to drive you wild.”

  “I do, Dean. I really do.”

  This confirmation is necessary. Necessary for me. I need this verbal upper hand with him. It keeps me safe, protects me from the storm. Because it’s a powerful one with Fitz, and part of me wants to be pulled into the eye of it.

  A minute later, he slams the door of his room shut, and we collide. His hands are on my face, and mine are on his trousers, gripping his erection through the fabric.

  Fitz groans his appreciation, then drops his hands to the hem of my shirt, tugging at it. We separate, and I unbutton it quickly, jerking it away as we toe off shoes and socks. Then I yank him toward me again, kissing him hard and rough, the way I know he likes it already. I walk him to the bed, stroking his insistent hard-on as I go, savoring the hot, hard length of him. He undoes his shirt, and I want to spend hours admiring his ink, tracing each tattoo with my tongue, but there will be time for that later. We reach the edge of the mattress, and I grab the zipper of his trousers, needing to get them off him right fucking now. “All right, Mr. Rules Are Made to Be Broken, let’s see if your money is where your mouth is,” I taunt.

  Fitz laughs. “Oh, I think your mouth will like it all.”

  When I strip off his clothes, boxer briefs too, my eyes don’t just like what I see. My entire fucking body craves it.

  His cock salutes me, thick, hard, and eager to make my acquaintance. My palm reaches for him, curling around his shaft. The second I touch him, I’m rewarded with a throaty gasp, the sound of his lust sending a sharp jolt of pleasure down my spine.

  “You drive me crazy,” he rasps out.

  “Yes, I can tell.” I squeeze his dick, grinning as I run my hand along its length. I savor the feel of his arousal and the noises he makes too, as I indulge in the rush of touching him.

  “So fucking crazy that you need to get down on your knees right the hell now.”

  I arch a brow. “Oh, I do, do I?”

  “You want to,” Fitz corrects as he pumps his hips, thrusting into my hand, so damn eager for me. His lust is like a drug, and I want another hit of it, of him. “You know you want to, Dean.”

  With my other hand, I give his balls a squeeze, then I drop my hand to my length, steel under my clothes. “Hmm. What do you know? Seems I do.”

  He narrows his eyes and sinks onto the bed, jerking me to the floor, keeping my hand on his cock the entire time. Spreading his legs, he grabs my jaw, bringing me closer.

  I’d like to take him in my mouth right now. Draw him to the back of my throat and show him what I can do to him. Almost as if I want to punish him with pleasure for making me break this one rule. As if I want to prove to him why I gave in.

  Or maybe I want to prove it to myself.

  Need to prove it to myself.

  But I don’t want to stop toying with him. This game Fitz and I play, this teasing—it’s far more fun than any other game. And I don’t want to relinquish playing. I bend my head closer, drawn by the heady smell of him, the feel of him. My mouth waters, but I resist wrapping my lips around his shaft, kissing his thigh instead.

  “Mmm . . . and you say you like everything I do. So, do you like this?”

  I lick a path up the inside of his leg, teasing the hell out of him, resisting, with my evidently iron will, his thick, hard cock I want to suck.

  He shudders, grabbing my face with both hands, his voice a barren, demanding plea. “Just get your mouth on me and stop talking.”

  I narrow my eyes, then move closer, my jaw brushing against his pulsing length. “But I thought you liked my accent.”

  “I love it except when blow jobs are hanging in the balance.”

  My lips twitch in a grin. “Well, maybe you ought to give me one. That would be the best of both worlds.”

  “Come to think of it,” he says, and before I even register what he’s doing, the man moves with the speed and grace of an athlete—of course—jerking me up from the floor, pushing me down on the bed, tearing off my clothes, and dropping his mouth down on my dick.

  He deep-throats me in one swift move.

  Electricity rushes down my body.

  His expert mouth.

  Holy hell, his delicious, expert mouth is working me over, sucking me deep, and it doesn’t surprise me that Fitz goes all in, and oh yes, I want him to.

  My hands rope into his hair, one palm curling over the back of his head. “That’s right. Take it deep.”

  I swear I can feel him smiling against my dick as he sucks me ravenously, like he’s starving for my cock.

  But he’s not simply brute-force strength or a magical unicorn throat that can handle being fucked.

  His tongue is a sorcerer, and the way he spirals it along my shaft, the way he licks and flicks and strokes as he goes, makes my thighs shake and my breath come in fast, gasping pants.

  “Fuck,” I groan as Fitz slides his big hands along my thighs, up, down, and back up again. He cups my balls, playing with them as he devours me.

  “Yes. Fucking yes,” I say, and there’s not much more talking I can give him while he does this, because I can’t form words.

  Curses, groans, grunts—that’s all I’m capable of.

  With the things he’s doing, soon I won’t be able to push out syllables. Lust barrels through my entire being, a punishing wave of agonizing pleasure as he blows my dick with so much enthusiasm it’s like he’s trying to blow my mind too.

  Well, it’s working. It’s absolutely working.

  My fingers tangle in his hair as my hips jerk, thrusting up, fucking into his talented, relentless mouth—this man is ruthless as he sucks me to the back of his throat.

  I’m losing all control and loving it—loving the heat in my body, the pleasure in my veins, his hands on my legs, my balls, my stomach.

  Everywhere.

  He explores me everywhere as he takes my dick on a trip around the world of pleasure, and my orgasm builds at the base of my spine, a pulsing, ravenous thing with a life of its own, with the power to pull me under.

  “So fucking good,” I say, as his tongue swirls up and down my length, as his fist grips the base, as lust rattles wildly through me. “Coming. Coming now.”

  And upon my words, I can feel him moan against my cock, can hear the rumble of desire in his throat. The sound and the hum and the vibration make my feet tingle, make my chest burn, make me shoot so goddamn hard in his mouth that I’m not sure I’m on earth anymore.

  White-hot bliss knocks me into another world from the intensity of the climax he wrings out of me.

  It’s radiating through me, pulsing into every corner of my body as I groan endl
essly—groan until I’m just panting, breathing, moaning.

  That’s literally all I can do as the aftershocks spread through every molecule, every atom. Fitz lets me fall from his mouth with a loud, wet pop and a most satisfied grin on his supremely handsome face.

  Rising, he wipes a hand across his mouth. I try to see straight while my head is buzzing, my mind bathing in endorphins.

  He lets his gaze travel down his body to his cock, thick and pulsing. Gripping himself, he runs a hand down his length, pushing hard along the crown, swiping his thumb across a bead of liquid on the head.

  I lick my lips, wanting, my tongue begging for what he has to give. He heeds the call, stretching out his arm, running his thumb across my lips. I lick him off his thumb, and my eyes fall shut at that first intoxicating taste of him.

  I open my eyes to see his hand is back on his shaft, stroking. “Well, then. I’m guessing it’s my turn now,” he says.

  I push up a few inches, grab an extra pillow, and park it behind my head. “Then get up here and fuck my face.”

  13

  Fitz

  Take it easy.

  Take it slow.

  Enjoy it.

  I repeat those guidelines. Not that I need a reminder to enjoy a fucking blow job—hell, blow jobs are life.

  I say it because I don’t want to shoot too early.

  And I don’t want to be too rough either.

  I want to take time to enjoy the hell out of this.

  I straddle him, settling in under Dean’s shoulders, a knee on each side of the pillow. I’m so damn aroused after sucking him off, this delicious, tempting man, that I don’t know how to take it slow.

  I don’t know if I want to.

  I want release. I want to get off. I want to come in his throat as he watches me. But I also know this position is playing with fire.

  I don’t want to make him gag. But I also really want to fuck his mouth. Hard.

  I wrap a hand around the base of my aching dick, and I offer him just the tip, rubbing the head across his lips.