One for the Road (Barflies Book 3)

by Katia Rose

  When she pulls her head back, her eyes are hazy and hooded, drunk with desire, and I’m sure mine must look the same. She overloads all my senses until there’s nothing but her.

  I pull her shirt over her head, and she reaches behind her for the clasp of her bra. All I want to do is get my mouth all over her gorgeous body, but I force myself to pause for a moment and drink the sight of her in instead.

  “You’re incredible. You’re absolutely incredible.”

  I run my hands up her spine, reveling in her smooth skin, in the way she arches at my touch.

  She whimpers when I finally press my lips to her chest, just below the hollow between her collarbones. Even her skin is sweet. I dart my tongue out to taste her as I kiss along the tops of her breasts. She’s heaven. Being with her is heaven.

  Her fingers twine themselves in my hair, tightening their grip until my scalp stings when I start to suck and flick my tongue across her nipples. She moans my name, and I move my tongue even faster before grazing her nipple with my teeth the way she likes.

  I want to hear that sound again—again and again and again.

  “Zach,” she breathes, and I let out a content hum against her skin.

  She inhales sharply. “Câlice, that felt good.”

  I hum again, and her thighs tense around me. She starts grinding against my body, and when her hands claw at the back of my shirt, lifting and tugging in a frantic attempt to get it off, I can’t help agreeing with that implication that I have far too many clothes on.

  She shimmies off me and flips onto her back so she can get her shorts undone. As I push off the bed and onto my feet, I realize I haven’t even taken my damn shoes off yet, but that doesn’t make me move any faster. I can’t move at all when she’s pulling those tiny shorts down her long, pale legs to reveal the miniscule scrap of lace that makes up her hot pink g-string.

  “Jesus Christ, DeeDee.” I drag a hand over my mouth. “You’ve been wearing that this whole time?”

  She nods a couple times and opens her eyes all wide and innocent—though I know she’s anything but.

  “They’re my lucky underwear.”

  Then she bites her damn lip.

  I start tearing myself out of my clothes. I nearly fall over hopping across the room on one foot to get my shoe off, my shirt still dangling around one arm and my unbuckled belt flapping around, but I don’t care how idiotic I look. I just need my skin on her skin. I need us.

  When I’m finally naked, she crawls to the edge of the bed and puts a hand on my chest to stop me before I can join her again. She looks up at me with a grin that’s downright devilish and then drops her gaze to my cock.

  “It’s so pretty.”

  “Pretty?” I wheeze.

  To be honest, she could call it anything she wanted, and I’d still be just as desperate for her.

  “Mhmm,” she croons. “You have such a nice cock.”

  Her accent always gets extra thick in bed, and the way she separates the syllables of ‘cock’ makes it sound even dirtier as it leaves her gorgeous mouth.

  “I want to make you feel good, Zach. Please.”

  Some of the haziness fades from her eyes, and she stares at me with an intensity I can’t look away from. I see all the certainty, all the courage I’ve always known she holds inside her finally directed at me.

  It’s what I needed all along. It’s what I thought I’d never get.

  “DeeDee...”

  I want to say more, but words fail me as I watch her kneel in front of me and take me in her hand. It’s an out of body experience, like the sensation is so good and so strong my brain has to distance itself from reality or it will combust. I feel like I’m watching from far away as she strokes me so slow it’s close to torture, her fist sliding from base to tip a few times before she brushes her thumb over the head.

  My chin drops to my chest, my jaw hanging open and eyes closing. She hasn’t even put her mouth on me yet, and I can already feel a storm gathering. Sex with DeeDee is like nothing I’ve ever felt. She can touch any part of me, and I feel it everywhere. She wakes me up in a way I’ve never been woken up before.

  The out of body experience ends the second she gets her mouth around my cock. I slam back into reality, to the wetness and heat of her mouth, to the pressure of her lips around me, to the curve of her spine and swell of her ass as she kneels in front of me. She takes me deep and fast, giving me the back of her throat, moaning with pleasure as she does it.

  I feel like the king of the whole goddamn city even as I realize how totally at the mercy of this woman I am.

  She works my cock until my eyes are rolling back and every bob of her head feels like it’s pushing me to the brink. I gather up her hair from where it’s falling into her face and tug gently until she pulls back. She looks up with a hungry expression that nearly exhausts all my willpower to not thrust myself into her mouth again.

  “I want you on your back.”

  It’s more of a plea than an order, but after one regretful glance at my cock, she does what I ask. I kneel between her legs again and spread them wide, forcing her to bend her knees and open for me.

  The piece of pink lace that barely keeps her covered is soaked, and I swear at the sight. I reach for the thin elastics stretching over her hips and pull the g-string down. I want her so bad my hands are shaking.

  “Jesus,” I mutter when she’s finally bared to me.

  For a few moments, all I can do is stare. She’s perfect. The sight of her body makes me feel weak and strong at the same time, and all I want is to make her feel good, to make her writhe and moan my name for the rest of my whole goddamn life.

  I start to lower my head between her legs, but she stops me.

  “Later. I need you inside me now.”

  It’s only the promise of later that makes me agree.

  “I just want to taste you first, just once.”

  A shiver runs through her when I trace a finger up the length of her folds. I don’t even need to dip inside her for my finger to be soaked—she’s that wet. I raise my hand to my mouth and lock eyes with her as I suck her taste off my skin. She shivers again.

  Resisting the intense urge to ignore what she asked and bury my tongue in her pussy instead, I grab a condom out of my nightstand and roll it on in record time. We don’t break eye contact as I lower myself on top of her before fitting the tip of my cock inside her.

  She gasps and pulls me closer. Her forehead presses against mine, but even then, we keep staring at each other. Her brown eyes don’t hold anything back. I still see fear there, but there’s no doubt. The courage and passion and love in the way she looks at me doesn’t leave any room for doubt.

  “Zach.”

  She says it like that one word is all that can contain everything she wants to say.

  My name.

  My name on her lips.

  My body on hers, as close as we can possibly be.

  She rocks her hips against me, and we both moan when I bracket her face with my forearms and thrust as deep into her as I can go. I can feel her tightening around me, and it spurs me on, urging me to go faster, harder, taking us farther and farther along this path that leads to a place we can only find with each other.

  All the while, her eyes stay locked on mine. I lose myself in them, in this moment, in her, in us.

  When I finally tip over the edge, I keep looking at her, and she does the same as she follows close behind. We give each other everything we have, watching ourselves break in the sweetest way possible before all the pieces come back together in a way that makes perfect sense.

  I hold her for a long moment after it’s over, her face buried in my neck. We’re both shaking, and it takes several minutes before I feel like I’ve even started the process of coming down. When we finally roll apart, she curls up at my side, reaching to twine one of her hands with mine.

  “I...I have never come like that.” Her voice trembles. “Looking at someone.”

  I squeeze her hand.
“Me neither.”

  “Zach?”

  “Yeah?”

  The post-sex stupor is setting in, and I let my eyes fall closed.

  “I meant what I said on the pier. I want to be your girlfriend.”

  My eyes fly back open. “You really want that?”

  I rise up on my elbows and look at her.

  “I do. I don’t want to hide this, not ever again. I want everyone to know about us. I want to be like one of those gross Instagram couples who’s always going on and on about how crazy in love they are. I want you to wake up every day and know that even if you can’t be sure about anything else in the world, you can be sure about us.” She pauses and chews on her lip for a second. “I mean, only if you want that too. It’s okay if you don’t. If you need—”

  “DeeDee.” I release her hand and cup her cheek instead. “I want that more than I can say. I’d be the luckiest damn guy in the world to have you as my girlfriend.”

  She kisses my palm like I did to her on the pier. “And I’d be the luckiest girl.”

  Twenty-Eight

  DeeDee

  LACE: the last ingredient in a drink recipe, usually poured on top of the beverage

  I was not supposed to work today. It’s the first of September, over a month since I became Zach’s girlfriend. I start classes at Cheveluxe on Wednesday. I asked for Monday and Tuesday off to get ready. I’m going down to part time at Taverne Toulouse, and we’re supposed to have enough staff to cover emergencies, but some connard didn’t show up for their shift and nobody else could replace them.

  “It’s Monday,” I grumble to myself as I walk over to the bar. “It’s going to be so dead the customers could just pour their own drinks.”

  Valérie and I were supposed to do a little spa night at home to help me chill out. I should just invite her to the bar so we can paint our nails and give free face masks to any customers who show up.

  Oooh, spa night at Taverne Toulouse! I should tell Monroe about this idea.

  When I get to the bar, all the lights are off and the door is locked. The opener was supposed to be in an hour ago.

  “Tabarnak,” I mutter as I pull my key out.

  If the opener doesn’t show either, I’m going to protest working tonight. Luckily I keep my bar key on the same ring as my house ones so I have it on me all the time.

  I get the door open and take one step inside before all the lights flick on and the whole room explodes with people shouting “SURPRISE!”

  My bag falls off my shoulder and hits the floor with a thud. I blink a few times, looking at all the faces staring back at me, waiting for my reaction. I’m pretty sure I know these people, but I’m too shocked for them to be anything but a blur.

  “What the fuck?” I finally screech. “My birthday is in November, you idiots!”

  The crowd bursts out laughing. There’s some kind of commotion at the back, and then people are moving aside so Monroe and Renee can come to the front, carrying a giant cake on a tray between them. There are a bunch of sparklers stuck in the top, making crackling noises and almost setting Renee’s frizzy hair on fire as they burn. Something is written in icing letters, but I can’t read the message until they bring the tray up to me.

  When I see what the pink words spell out, a big lump forms in my throat:

  One for the road?

  There’s a shot glass balanced on the cake, filled with what has to be tequila, along with a lime wedge and a little pack of salt.

  “We were going to do a haircutting theme,” Monroe explains, “but nobody was talented enough to draw scissors with icing, and anyway, this seemed like more of a Taverne Toulouse kind of thing.”

  “We’re gonna miss you around here,” Renee announces, her eyes soft as her face glows in the light from the sparklers.

  “B-but I’m not leaving,” I insist, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

  These connards are gonna make me cry in front of everyone.

  “You’ve been working full time at this bar for almost as long as me,” Monroe explains, “and even if you’ll still be around, it just...It’s going to be different, you know?”

  Now she’s going to cry too. These assholes sure don’t know how to throw a party.

  They do know how to make a girl feel very special.

  “Besides,” Monroe continues after taking a deep breath, “you’re going after your dreams! People deserve cakes and surprise parties when they go after their dreams.”

  “And shots,” Renee adds, nodding at the cake.

  I look past the two of them and into the crowd. The whole staff is here tonight. Paige is skulking around near the back in one of her giant hoodies. I spot Roxanne and her boyfriend—no, husband—standing together, and even Valérie is hanging out with some servers with a beer in hand.

  That sneaky bitch.

  She raises her beer when she notices me watching, and I grin back at her.

  It takes me a moment to find him.

  Zach. My boyfriend. My handsome, sweet, hilarious boyfriend who happens to be making bank with his online business. After I’ve finished my program at Cheveluxe, we’re going to give Power Couple Extraordinaire Monroe and Julien a run for their money.

  He’s standing a few feet away from everyone else, leaning against one side of the bar. His beard is shorter than usual today, giving him that sexy stubbly look I like so much on him. He’s wearing one of my favourite flannels—I know his flannel collection so well by now I have favourites—and he looks so damn handsome standing with one elbow on the bar that I can hardly keep myself from sending the cake flying and running over to jump in his arms.

  They must have worked pretty hard on this thing, though, so instead I keep staring at Zach as I lick the back of my hand and pour the little salt packet over the wet spot.

  He gives me the finger.

  I lift the shot glass up and take one more look around the room, at all these people who came here tonight to celebrate me, to congratulate me, to be with me.

  I know that even if none of them showed up tonight, even if I was walking into Cheveluxe this week with nobody but me on my team, I’d still be blasting the doors open and taking haircutting school by storm. It still makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have them all smiling at me now.

  I lift the glass above my head and shout, “One for the road!”

  The whole room shouts it back as I lick the salt and take the shot.

  Most people have gone home by midnight. The last few pieces of cake are still sitting on their tray on the bar. I already ate three, and Zach tugs on my arm to stop me when I try to take another.

  “But I waaaant it,” I whine.

  I’m a little tipsy.

  “You told me to do whatever it took to stop you if you tried to eat another piece.”

  I smirk at him. “So what are you gonna do to stop me?”

  We’re standing by ourselves at the bar. After cutting the cake and having a few drinks, everybody crowded onto the dance floor for a couple hours of shaking our booties to everything from top forty hits to hair metal. They even played some Cyndi Lauper.

  Now it’s just me, Zach, and a few of the people we’re closest with. Monroe is out later than I’ve seen her in a long time, cuddled up with her boyfriend on one of the couches. Roxy, Cole, Dylan, Renee, and Paige are playing some kind of game where they try to flip beer coasters over. Dylan does something they all seem to be impressed by, and I turn back to Zach as the group cheers.

  “So? What are you going to do?” I pretend like I’m going in for the cake again.

  “Hmmm.” He taps his finger on his chin. “Maybe this.”

  Then he scoops me up and lifts me to sit on the bar while I squeal.

  “Hey!” Monroe calls out. “No sexual activity on my bar.”

  Zach tells her he’s trying to stop me from eating cake. I just flip her off.

  “You two are crazy,” she replies, “and adorable.”

  Zach and I are officially the cu
test couple Taverne Toulouse has ever seen. I like to announce that to the whole bar every now and then. It’s kind of become a thing for us ever since I first got up on the railing on the pier and shouted at those tourists. Zach pretends to get embarrassed, but I know how much it means to him when I stand up and tell the world we’re together, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

  Monroe goes back to her cuddle session. The others are too busy with their game to notice us.

  “I’m even closer to the cake now,” I remind Zach.

  “Yeah, but now it’s easier for me to do this.”

  He steps between my thighs and squeezes one with his hand as the other reaches up to pull my head down into a kiss. He has me turned on and desperate in just a few seconds.

  “Still thinking about the cake?”

  “Quoi?” I ask, blinking my eyes open to stare at his mouth and think about how much I wish it was kissing me again.

  He chuckles. “It seems my strategy was effective.”

  “Oh!” I try to shake some of the tipsiness out of my head, but I think I’m more drunk off him than the beer. “Right! The cake. Yes, I still want the cake.”

  “Hmm.” He frowns. “You sure?”

  I nod, squirming with anticipation over whatever he’s going to do to me next. “I really want the cake.”

  “If you want it that bad, maybe I should let you have it.”

  I pretend to pout. “I told you not to. You have to protect me from myself. I’m going to eat the whole thing if you don’t stop me.”

  He has this very cute and very sexy mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  “You do really seem to want it, though. Maybe I should give you some.”