Fuck me. Her firm, round ass juts out as she bends over, looking for something lower in the fridge. One knee bends, hitching one of her hips higher than the other. Jesus fucking Christ, I want to grab onto those hips and slide inside her pussy while twisting that long ponytail around my fist. Tilting her head back to look up at me with those big blue eyes as I thrust deep and hard inside her. I bet she’s tight. She’s so tiny she’d have to be. Dammit, this is why I was trying to steer clear of her. Beau should have known bringing someone as tempting as her into our house would be an issue. It was inevitable that our paths would cross at some point. Can’t avoid her forever.
Before she turns to see me gawking at her with an obvious hardon, I reach down and shift my growing flagpole, so it’s not as obvious. Just the light friction of my hand has me wanting more. Maybe I should go rub one out before leaving.
Clover stands and turns to face me, a jar of mayonnaise in her hand. The rest of the necessary ingredients for a sandwich on the island waiting for her. “Oh. Jeez, Nix, you scared me.” She hops, holding on to her chest with her free hand. Her very generous chest bounces with her movement.
Mmm. They can’t be more than a handful, and my hands are large, but they are perfectly perky on her petite frame. Like plump mangoes, and they are ripe for the picking.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t think anyone was home.” My eyes continue to roam her body. The tiny sliver of skin that shows around her abdomen as her black top rides up, the sway of her hips as she walks over to the island. Tantalizes me to search out more of her skin.
“I was just making a sandwich before work.”
Work? Shouldn’t she already be at work? What kind of job does she have? Is she a stripper? That could work for me. Wonder which joint she works at. Hopefully not one of Shaw’s. My eyes have wandered back up her body to those lovely bouncing betties when I notice the logo on her shirt.
“What the fuck? Why are you wearing a Colt’s shirt?” It comes out a little harsher than planned, but damn if that didn’t throw me off. The bold white lettering spells out Colt 45 across her chest with the L made from a Colt .45 pistol pointing upward, stretches and rounds across those perfectly plump and very off-limits mangoes.
“Because that’s where I work.” Her answer is mocking but also a bit confused, her face scrunching a little.
“You’re the new bartender?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?” One hip juts out reflexively.
Damn. This girl is as cocky as me—and hell yeah, it’s a problem. How am I supposed to scope out women with her behind the bar, distracting me? I can’t tell her that, though, and all that comes out is a grunt. I’m going to have to have a word with Pop when I get to the bar tonight cause this is not going to work for me.
Clover continues to make her sandwich, ignoring me staring at her.
“So, you’re going to be at the bar tonight?” If I’m going to be hunting for pussy tonight, I need to know if she will be an obstacle in my game.
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you there.”
“I can’t wait.” She says sarcastically, taking a bite out of her sandwich, and smiles at me with full round cheeks. Looking like a rabid ginger chipmunk. It’s cute but infuriating. Maybe I should tell her as much. I bet she would get pissed. Maybe she’ll talk back with that smart mouth. A guy can hope. But I keep my mouth shut for once. Instead, I reach over and grab the sandwich ingredients and make one for myself. All the while having a silent stare down with the feisty chipmunk.
“You don’t want me here, do you?”
Well, she’s blunt, isn’t she?
“I wasn’t expecting a roommate. Let alone a female roommate.” I emphasize the female part of roommate. So she knows how much of a distraction she is.
“Don’t worry. I’ll only be here long enough to save up money to get my own place. You won’t have to deal with me for long.”
“And when do you expect that to be?” Not that I don’t enjoy having to sneak out of my own house to avoid the sexy little redhead I now call roomie.
“If you didn’t want me here, you could have said no.” She offers callously.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I quirk a brow at her, daring her to fight back. If she’s going to stay here, I might as well have a little fun in the meantime. Since I can’t have the type of fun I want, finding out if the redhead sex myths apply to her, this will have to suffice. Until I can get her out of my house and my bar. Then maybe I could have some between-the-sheets fun with her. Or up against the counter fun.
No, Nix. Remember what happened last time with the handsy waitress? Or the time before with the busty bar back—and the time before that with the nerdy cashier from Aunt Cherry’s bakery. It never works out well when I mix business with pleasure. Only girls that don’t work for the family from now on. Aunt Cherry was really pissed when she lost one of her best cashiers because she’d fallen for me. It’s not my fault I’m irresistible, and my dick keeps them coming back for more—literally.
Finishing her sandwich, Clover crosses her arms over her chest, pressing them up and together. Raising an eyebrow at me before striding out of the kitchen—giving me the best view of that sweet ass—the bottoms of her cheeks poking out of her shorts. Sweet, sweet cheeks. Who knew chipmunks had such nice asses? Praise the man who invented Daisy Dukes.
Walking into Colt 45 a few hours later, the first thing I notice is the bustling crowd at the bar. What the hell is going on here? Then I hear a sweet, high-pitched giggle. Clover. Dammit, if she’s good for business, it’s going to be harder to convince Pop to get rid of her.
I ignore her and the bar and go straight to Pop’s office in the back. Without knocking, I stride in.
“Why the fuck is she behind the bar?” I point in the direction of Clover out in the bar for clarity.
“By she, I assume you’re speaking about our new bartender, Clover?” He says calmly from behind his desk and computer screen.
“Yes, Clover.”
“We needed a new bartender. No thanks to you.” He eyes me quickly before turning his attention back to the computer screen. “She applied. I hired her.”
“There’s no way that tiny girl met your strict standards.” I am fuming. Pacing back and forth in his office, hands on my hips.
“Actually, she’s extremely well qualified for the position.”
“Well qualified? How so? Because she’s got perky tits and a cute smile?”
Why did I just call her smile cute? She isn’t cute. She’s sexy and definitely fuckable, but not cute. Focus Nix, you’re mad—don’t get distracted by a pretty face—and sweet ass. Don’t forget those round pieces of perfection bestowed from the ass gods.
“She’s a good bartender and can handle herself well.”
“We’ll see about that,” I threaten, a plan already forming in my mind.
“Phoenix.” His voice stern enough to make me stop pacing and face him as he turns his gaze from his computer to me.
“Do not scare off the new bartender. She’s one of the most capable females we’ve had behind the bar in a long time, and I would like to keep her there. Is that understood?” He cautions me.
“Don’t worry, Pop. I’m just going to test her ability to perform.”
He chuckles at me and looks back at that damn computer screen.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the outcome.”
Does he know something I don’t? What could she possibly have done—or said in her interview to get him to believe in her so much so soon?
Pop doesn’t say anything more, just continues to grin and laugh under his breath at me. Oh, I’ll show him what she’s capable and not capable of. I say nothing more, leaving him to return to the main bar area, typing out a quick text on my way. I manage to find a seat at the end of the bar by the pickup area. Where Rosie is filling a tray with glasses and bottles.
I say a quick hello to her, then lean on the bar, turning my attention t
o Clover. She moves gracefully and confidently behind the bar. Her and Beau working in tandem. Every now and again, she goes to him asking a question, getting an answer, then shifting back into action.
The male patrons particularly like her. Taking their time, ordering their drinks, flirting openly with her. None of them would stand a chance with her if she were to turn her sass on them. I’ve only spoken to her twice, and she’s already easily rivaling me in my own game of sarcastic smartassery.
They ogle—looking her up and down. Her Daisy Dukes and tight black tank top with the Colt 45 logo in white across her chest don’t cover much. She is definitely giving them a good show, but she isn’t flirting. Just being a good bartender. Smiling, laughing when appropriate, and leaning in every so often to give them a good look down her shirt. Smart girl. She knows how to use what she’s got—but that won’t save her from what’s about to happen.
Beau comes over, and we chat for a minute, and he gets me a pint of my favorite local brew. I sip it, enjoying it, and enjoying the view. Every time Clover turns around, I get to see those sweet cheeks from my vantage point. She sees me watching her and smiles wryly. Acknowledging my presence, but nothing more. You’ll be noticing me soon enough, sweet cheeks.
No less than an hour later, practically an entire hoard of people show up. Lead by the one and only master of chaos, Fox Everett. Fox is a party friend of mine. Met him at the club one night and liked his style. Now, whenever either of us hears of a good party, we let the other know. I may have told him the bar would be the place to be tonight and to bring as many friends as possible. He and his crew file in, crowding the space.
The music is loud, the people are louder. Beau holds his own, he’s dealt with these guys before, and it’s nothing new to him. Clover, to her credit, is holding in there. The strategic friendliness has vanished, and now she’s plastered on a smile as she takes drink orders being yelled out, filling them as fast as possible. Sometimes having to hand one off to Beau. She probably didn’t know how to make whatever they ordered. This crowd can sometimes ask for some ridiculously unnecessarily complicated drinks. Why do people think the more complicated their drink order, the cooler it makes them? All it does is piss off the bartender and make them look like an inept twat.
Fox comes over, and we chat. He introduces me to a few fuckable ladies. One of which is a tall, smiling brunette—she could do for the night. Her name is lost in the noise of the bar, and it doesn’t really matter, anyway. I won’t remember it when I put her in the Uber after I get off in or on her. I haven’t decided yet. I’ll let the decision come to me at the moment.
Not too long after Fox’s group arrives, another dozen people file in behind Jake Everett. Fox’s cousin and nemesis since they were fifteen, and they both crushed on the same girl. Ever since then, they fight over anything and everything. Whenever they’re both in the same place, you better prepare yourself for a shitstorm of massive proportions.
Like clockwork, it only takes about fifteen minutes before they start arguing over something or another. Poking turns to pushing—which turns to punching. Eventually, Jake has Fox in a headlock, and then the chanting begins. A few guys from each side start squaring off, and I take this time to look over to Clover.
Backed up against the back bar, she is holding on for dear life—completely unsure of what the fuck is happening. I see panic starting to peak in her eyes. That bountiful chest of hers rising sharply with every breath. What will you do now, Clover? Can you handle our specific breed of clientele, or are you just a weak little chipmunk? My beer tastes extra fulfilling tonight, especially with the tall brunette pressing close to my back, trying to stay out of the quickly escalating bar fight.
Clover is looking around for Beau, but he’s already climbed over the bar and is trying to stop what he knows is coming. You’re alone, little chipmunk. Now, just scurry away. When her eyes land on me, I’m grinning behind my pint glass with my eyes fixed on her. For the longest moment, we are frozen in this stare. Then something shifts. Her hands release the bar, her spine straightens. She stands tall, and her face softens, the panic disappearing and replaced with determination. Maybe she won’t run away.—but what can she really do?
The cold resolve in her eyes turns those blue eyes to ice. She steps forward and reaches under the bar. She’s not going to do what I think she’s going to do? Is she? She doesn’t have the balls.
Then she does it. Pulling out the short double-barrel shotgun, she snaps it open, removes one shell, and shoves it in her cleavage. The sight of the shell pressed between her supple breasts is not completely unwelcome. I never considered guns a turn-on before, but now I think I’ll have to add it to my list of possible kinks I need to try.
This tiny little sweet-cheeked chipmunk climbs onto the bar top, not giving a fuck about bottles and shot glasses, knocking them over, and spilling drinks everywhere. Standing tall when she gets her balance, she points the gun to the ceiling and fires off the first round without hesitation.
The blast is enough to get everyone to stop dead in their tracks and go silent. The entire fucking bar turns to face her, a few backing away and out of her range.
“That is enough!” Her voice comes out loud, strong, and commanding. My dick responds to her boldness, stiffening in my pants as she continues. Didn’t know he liked that.
“This is only my third day, and I really like this job and would like to keep it.” Hopping onto a stool and then to the ground with a loud thud, she does not let up. Reloading the gun with the shell, she stored in her tits. “And if everyone wants to keep all of their appendages, I suggest y’all chill the FUCK out! Drink your beer, pay your tab, and tip generously.” At this point in her speech, she’s made it to the epicenter of the fight where Fox and Jake stare slack-jawed. Me, on the other hand, I’m no longer grinning. This tiny girl is ruining my plans. She’s supposed to run away screaming, not take charge and turn me on more.
“If y’all are incapable of following these simple instructions, then get the fuck out!” She points the gun toward the door and anyone near in its line of fire ducks or backs up.
Everyone, and I mean every-fucking-one, in the bar, listens to her. They calm and release one another—most returning to the bar or a table. A few still stand in surprised awe, and a couple actually scurry out the exit. I can visibly see Clover relax and drop the arm holding out the gun. Her stoic expression dropping to show the relief and fear she was hiding. Then she turns on her heels and heads straight for me. Now she’s pissed. Lips almost snarling and steam coming out of her ears.
Surprisingly, I fucking like it, and that’s not good. I like the commanding, powerful, and determined Clover that was standing on the bar. When she fired that gun, I could feel the shot through my body, from the tingle in my spine to the thickening tip of my cock. I’ve never been attracted to a woman like that before. The need to fuck her has not diminished, only gotten stronger. To touch that beautiful pale skin. To run my hands up her thighs and slide under those tiny shorts to grab that sweet ass. Now that she’s working in my family’s bar and living under my roof, that can’t happen. At all. Ever. I have to deal with enough as it is. The last thing I need is to get involved with a woman like Clover.
To get involved with any woman at all isn’t an option. This is why I like my one-night stands. No muss, no fuss. Everyone gets off, and then we go our separate ways.
Since it seems like she isn’t going anywhere soon, I have resigned myself to only looking and no touching. But damn if that will stop me from fucking with her to get a rise out of her.
By the time she reaches me at my stool, the shotgun is propped on one shoulder and her other hand on her opposite hip. This seems to be her preferred position of defiance, and I’m not opposed to it.
“I don’t know how, but I know this is your fault.”
“My fault? How so? I was just sitting here enjoying my beer. I had nothing to do with that bar fight,” I say in an over-exaggerated innocent voice. She then takes her
new toy and points the barrel toward my balls.
“Remember, I know where you sleep—and unless you want to wake up one morning missing a very important appendage, you will NOT mess with my job again.” She is all anger and hostility, and I am loving every fucking minute of it. Even with a gun pointed at my balls. I think it might be my new goal to see how riled up I can get her—because me and my cock very much enjoy it.
“So, what you’re saying is that you’re going to sneak into my room at night, crawl into my bed, and blow me? Is that about right?” An instant blush flushes her pretty chipmunk cheeks. Reaching a shade of red almost as dark as her hair. She blinks rapidly and her arm holding the gun wavers.
“N-no, that’s not. I didn’t say that.” She stutters.
Taking the opportunity making her flustered has given me, I stand and lean in to speak in her ear. Brushing my lips over the soft flesh there, just to rouse her even more. She smells like lavender and honey.
“Don’t be shy, sweet cheeks. You can climb into my bed whenever you like,” I know she won’t take me up on my offer. She may act tough, but she’s too nice to walk on my wild side. When I lean back, I see that my words have had their effect on her. Her nipples are visibly hard beneath the tight black tank top. That’s all it takes to send my mind straight to the place I just told her she could climb into. My bed in the dead of night, her crawling on her hands and knees over me, straddling me. Her soft, sweet moans as I slide into her. I can’t stop the low growl that resonates in my throat. I just hope she doesn’t hear it over the noise of the bar.
I’m sure she can see the heat in her eyes reflected in my own—but I rein it in. Straightening and returning to my stool and the brunette. The one I’m actually going to sink my now granite hard dick into tonight.
Phoenix (The Colton Cousins Book 1) Page 5
