His Irish Coffee (The Cocktail Girls Book 3)

by Jessica Lake

  When he starts to move again, more rhythmically now, it still hurts. It still hurts but the sting is softening into an ache and the ache is complex, it's made up of more than pain. There's almost an itch there, a feeling, when he pulls out, of needing him inside me again, to scratch it. I put my palms flat against the wall, bracing myself, and push my hips back a little.

  "There," Declan breathes. "There. Does it feel better now? Can you feel me? Can you feel what you're – oh, God – what you're doing to me? Can you –"

  "Yes," I reply, and my own voice sounds needy and high-pitched in my ears. "Yes. Declan, yes."

  The teasing little ache is starting to morph into something else, something more insistent. I push back on every thrust now, even as it still makes me wince. It's coming. The tidal wave. I can't see it yet but I know it's there on the horizon, sweeping towards me.

  "Oh my God!" I cry out as the insistence turns into desperation. It still hurts, but I want it more than it hurts, now. I need it now. "Declan, I – I –"

  "What is it?" He asks, slipping one hand around my waist, jerking my body back against his. "What is it, baby? What do you need?"

  But I've lost the ability to speak coherently. All I can do now is press myself back against him, lean back into him, open my hips so he can get as far inside me as possible.

  "Declan!" I whimper. "Declan, Dec – oh – oh my – "

  It's coming up fast now, a glittering wave of white hot bliss, curling over my head as my toes curl into the cheap carpet under my feet.

  "Come for me," he groans into my neck, sinking himself deep, deep inside me, fucking me so hard it forces the air out of my lungs. "Come for me, Lila. Come all over me, baby – come –"

  And then I do come. My whole body goes rigid and I toss my head back, moaning Declan's name over and over and over as the pleasure between my legs builds to a thrumming peak and explodes out through my body. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know anything. All I'm doing it feeling. And even before it's over the hand that's been on my hips the whole time tightens, the fingers digging into my flesh, and Declan buries himself in my pussy one last time, throbbing, spilling over until it starts to leak down my thighs.

  He stays where he is, milking every last drop of pleasure out of our joined bodies, waiting until the little aftershocks have faded away into a warm afterglow.

  I stumble a little when he pulls out, and Declan reaches out to put a hand steadying hand on my hip.

  "Are you OK?" He asks, as we both try to catch our breath. "Are you – did I hurt you? Did I –"

  "Yes," I tell him, walking gingerly to the sofa and flopping down on it. "I mean yes, it hurt. But it was – it was always going to hurt, wasn't it? It's not your fault."

  I should offer him something to eat. Something to drink, maybe? Is that the done thing? Is that what you do when a near-stranger comes over and takes your virginity? The questions are slow in my mind, because a sudden sleepiness has come over me. My eyelids are heavy. Maybe if I just closed them for a second?

  8

  Declan

  As she sleeps, sprawled across the sofa like a naked angel, I reply to the texts from my mates, who seem to have worked out why I left so abruptly. They're planning on hitting one of the casinos later tonight – plans I had initially been in on until Lila happened. I turn around to look at her and my cock, so recently sated, tingles back to life.

  She's on her belly, hair tumbled over a pillow and one leg drawn up so I have a view of her perfectly round ass – and her sweet little pussy. Was she really a virgin? If she wasn't she certainly did a good job of acting like she was. I step a little closer and see that her upper thighs are glistening, still slick my cum. The tingle in my cock intensifies. I like seeing that, her sex covered in the evidence of our lust, her body marked as mine. I need to be inside her again.

  "Mmm," Lila says in her sleep as I slip onto the sofa and feast my eyes on her body. I'm hard again before I even touch her, my cock standing up just to be so near to such a vision of feminine perfection. When I reach out and run my hand over one smooth hip, she rolls halfway over and smiles at me. I know that smile. I know what it means. It means I can do what I want. It means her body is my plaything, my territory to explore. My cock gets even harder.

  "Are you awake?" I ask, and Lila giggles sleepily.

  "A little. Maybe. You don't have to stop, Declan. I don't want you to stop."

  God the way she says my name in that soft, slow, breathy voice of hers. I've got half a mind to roll her over on her belly and fuck her hard and fast again. But I don't, because this time I'm going to go slowly, I'm going to enjoy every part of her, every creamy inch.

  "Don't you?" I whisper, taking my length in my hand and pushing the head of it over her pussy lips. "You don't want me to stop?" I'm lying behind her, so it's easy to go further, leaving a trail of pre-cum behind as I drag myself up to her asshole and just enjoy the feeling of her tightness against me. "Not even now?"

  Lila sighs, still half-asleep. "Mmm. Yeah. No, I mean. I don't want you to stop."

  I pull her body back against me, thrusting my hips forward so my cock rests, throbbing, between her cheeks. I want to fuck every part of her. Her pussy, again. Her mouth. Her asshole. Her skin is so impossibly smooth as I slip my hand under her arm and take one of her nipples between my fingers, rolling it into a not-entirely-gentle pinch before splaying the fingers out over the swell of her breast, squeezing greedily.

  "I'm gonna need you to wake up, baby," I whisper into her neck as I rain a trail of kisses across it. "And if you can't wake up, I'm gonna need you to roll over and open your legs."

  Before she even replies I feel her going soft and pliant in response. She rolls over onto her stomach without saying anything, and opens her legs. I sit up and position myself so I'm kneeling over her prone body, my cock standing straight up, aching. But still, I don't take what's on offer right away. I reach down and put my hands on her ass, spreading her open so I can get a better view. The lips of her pussy are swollen, slick and shiny with new wetness.

  "Are you sore?" I ask, leaning down over Lila as she begins to squirm underneath me. "Because if you are, I was thinking I could just," I lower my hips, guiding the tip of my cock up against her asshole again, "fuck your ass instead."

  She turns her head on the pillow, a few strands of hair falling across her peachy cheek. "Yeah?"

  I push my hips down a little harder and a little sigh escapes her lips. "Yeah. Is that what you want? You want me to fuck your little asshole? You want me to come in your little asshole, baby?"

  Something about the way I'm talking to her wakes her right up. I watch as her eyes close and she pushes her body up onto her hands and knees, a gesture of submission so sweet it suddenly makes me doubt my commitment to not just fucking the shit out of her right away.

  I chuckle and give her a sudden, not-entirely-gentle smack on the ass before pressing my fingertips into her flesh, pushing my hand underneath her and up over her flat belly to her breasts again.

  "Why are you laughing?" She asks, lowering her shoulders so it's just her hips and her jaw-clenchingly perfect, heart-shaped ass in the air in front of me. Jesus it would be so easy to just push myself in right now, to sink quickly into those slick, warm, velvet folds. No.

  "Why am I laughing?" I ask. "Because you seem to think it's going to be easy, don't you, Lila? Because you're so fucking hot I bet you never had to put a single ounce of effort into getting male attention, did you? I think it might be time that changed."

  Lila darts her eyes back at me, biting her lip and grinning and arching her back sweetly.

  "You think that's going to be enough?" I continue, even though it is already more than enough. "You think all you have to do is get naked? I'm not even hard."

  She giggles. "Yes you are!"

  "OK, so I'm hard. I'm a young man, I'm always hard. You think that's some kind of accomplishment?" Something in me likes talking to her in this tone of
voice, being stern. demanding. "I'm going to need more than that, Lila. A lot more."

  "What do you need?"

  My cock jumps at the tone in her voice, the open desire to please me, to do what I want. "I want you to earn it," I tell her. "I want you to touch yourself. Show me what I'm doing to you, baby. Show me where you want me."

  Almost at once, she pushes her hand back between her legs, her fingers disappearing between her juicy lips – but not inside. She's using two fingers, rubbing them back and forth so I can hear the little wet sounds. And then she pauses for just a second and begins to go further, sliding them further up, leaving a shiny trail of wetness all the way from her pussy to her asshole.

  "Fuck," I breathe, unable to stop myself. "Are you – baby, are you –"

  "I'm making myself wet for you," she whispers back, pushing her fingers between her lips once more before dragging them back to her asshole. A surge of lust unfurls in my balls and up through the length of my cock and I exhale heavily.

  "What?" Lila asks innocently, looking back at me as if she hasn't the faintest idea what could be making react as I am. "What is it?"

  "You know exactly what it is," I smile reaching underneath her again with both hands, kneading her breasts. "You know – you –" I stop talking, though, because she's pushing – or trying to push – one of her fingers into her tight hole.

  "Ow," she says, not stopping, and then whimpering suddenly as the finger slides in.

  That's it. It's too much. I take her wrist and move her hand away before pulling her hips back to me. I need to feel her around me. I need to come again – and I need to do it deep inside her.

  I push the head of my cock, slippery with pre-cum, up against Lila's sweet, pink asshole and her body tightens, knowing what's coming. "Do you want it?" I ask, barely able to breathe I need it so much. "Is this what you want?"

  "Yes. Yes, Declan. Please –"

  It's the 'please' – plaintive and desperate – that almost kills me. I look down, watching as I force myself into her incredible tightness, hearing her cry out as her body opens itself to take me. Jesus she's tight. She's so exquisitely tight I think for a brief second that I'm just going to blow my load immediately – but a few quick breaths and I've gotten myself somewhat under control.

  "Don't," I tell her, when she tries to push herself back onto me. "Don't –"

  "Why?" She asks playfully, although her smiles are interspersed with winces as my thickness fills her. "Am I gonna make you come again? Is that it? Am I – oh! Declan – oh – ow!"

  Some might say I shouldn't be enjoying her pain. And maybe it isn't quite her pain I'm enjoying so much as it's her eagerness, her need to please me.

  She's so tight that it doesn't seem possible at first to actually do any fucking. I can barely get inside – and when I am, finally, it seems just as difficult to pull back out. But her pussy is soaking wet, and I use my fingers to paint that wetness onto my cock before thrusting in again, and then again, until her snug ring is sliding up and down my every inch, heightening my pleasure with every second.

  When I'm all the way inside her, and her ass is pressed against my upper thighs and my belly, I hold her there for a few seconds, moving my hips in tiny, quick little motions, feeling the ache in my balls growing more acute. I'm going to blow soon, I can feel the inevitability of it already. Lila feels it, too.

  "You're going to come?" She asks, reaching down between her own legs so she can touch her clit. "Aren't you? Are you going to –"

  She breaks off, moaning, her legs opening up a little further. Knowing she's touching herself, knowing she herself is going to come, just gets me close even faster. I look down at my cock as it fucks her, part of me still unable to believe she's as beautiful as she is – especially on her hands and knees.

  "Yeah," I moan. "Yeah, I'm gonna come. You're going to make me come, Lila. Your tight little – oh, fuck. Ohhh –"

  It happens for her, and that's what finally triggers me, my cock suddenly pulsing with ecstasy as I pump spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum into her ass. I lean my head right back, clenching my teeth, sinking my fingers into her hips and holding her back against me until she's taken it all, every last drop.

  And then I barely manage to pull out before flopping down beside her on the couch, panting.

  9

  Lila

  I wake up in bed with Declan asleep next to me and the pale light of dawn beginning to filter in through the blinds. Before checking my phone, which I know is going to be full of raging messages from Maximo about why I just dipped out on my shift last night, I roll over so I can get a better look at the Irish babe. Because God, he really is a babe. That accent. Those shoulders. That smile. That... dick.

  There's a dull ache between my legs. It's nothing a little ibuprofen wouldn't sort out, although I decide against taking any because I'm pleased, on some level, to be feeling the effects of losing my v-card.

  Declan stirs, but doesn't wake up when I lean down over him and kiss his bare shoulder. How long is he going to be in Vegas? I don't know, but probably not long. A few more days, if I'm lucky? And even if it is a few more days, what happens when the spell breaks, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin and Cinderella finds out she's been fired from her job?

  I chuckle quietly at the idea of myself as Cinderella – especially after the night I've just had. There are some similarities, though. I'm poor like Cinderella, and I work for rich people. The thought of my mother, the image of her face, threatens to encroach upon my mind and I push it away. I can't think about that right now. If I'm fired I can get another job. A job that pays as well in tips? Without any real skills other than looking great in tight clothing? A lot of work available to young women in Las Vegas is more skilled than people think. Showgirls are professionally trained dancers, croupiers often take years to develop their abilities. As for me? Well, I can waitress. Or I can sell my body. If my mom gets any sicker, I may end up having to do just that. In the meantime, I can see that leaving work in the middle of a shift because I was horny was probably not the smartest decision I've ever made.

  I get up slowly, so as not to wake the man – the man! – in my bed, and pad barefoot into the tiny little kitchen to put a pot of coffee on. When it's done, I throw on a flimsy robe and step out onto my little balcony – the one with an amazing view of a parking lot – and try to think about how to handle Max. He's always dropping hints that he wants to sleep with me. He's always dropping hints that he wants to sleep with all of his female employees.

  My stomach turns at the thought of his hands on me, or the idea of kissing him – urgh – but what if it comes to that? Would I do it? In order to keep my job and the money going to my mom? The sky is lightening as I peer over the building opposite me, and my stomach is rumbling. I haven't eaten for hours.

  Back in the kitchen, I make pancakes. I'm hungry, and I have a guest – a guest I know almost nothing about, and who has done things to me in the past few hours that I was never sure I would do with anyone – but a guest nonetheless. I can't just offer him a glass of water and kick him out when he wakes up.

  10

  Declan

  The smell of food wakes me up. For a few seconds, I struggle to remember where I am, and then the last night comes flooding back to me. She comes flooding back to me. I throw on my jeans, not bothering with anything else because it's already hot as hell at 6 in the damn morning, and head into the kitchen.

  My dick twitches at the sight of her, standing in front of the stove in a robe so thin she might as well be naked. Did I really spend the night with her? Are those firm, tanned thighs the same ones that were spread open for me only a few hours ago? Is that ass the one she gave to me like a gift-wrapped present on Christmas morning?

  She startles when she hears me and turns around, smiling.

  "Sorry," I say. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

  Lila wants me to give her a hug. She wants me to touch her. I can feel it as we stand facing each other in her crappy k
itchen and she gazes at me with something in her eyes she isn't yet willing to put into words.

  "Jesus," I whisper, brushing a glossy lock of hair off her cheek and tucking it behind one sweet little ear. "You're even gorgeous in the morning. Look at you."

  It's true. She's a human candle standing in front of me, throwing off the light of her beauty, glowing from within. She doesn't look happy, though. A shadow passes over her face as I run my eyes over her curves and I am suddenly reminded I know nothing at all about this girl – gorgeous though she is.

  "What's wrong?" I start. "Did I –"

  Lila shakes her head and turns back to the pancakes. "Nothing. It's nothing. Are you hungry?"

  I am hungry. I am fucking ravenous. I slide my arms around her waist and lean down, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Breakfast – really? Is this some kind of honey-pot operation? Are you a spy? If you are I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed – I have very little information to give you about Ireland's covert activities."

  She laughs. Even her laughter is adorable. "No, I'm not a spy. I just thought it would be rude not to give you breakfast."

  "So what is it, then?" I ask as we eat our pancakes a few minutes later. "If you're not a spy, I mean – what is it?"

  "What's what?"

  "What's your big flaw? What's the problem?"

  Lila is peering at me, obviously not understanding what I'm asking.

  "You're too perfect!" I continue. "Look at you – you're stunning. You're sweet. You make pancakes. And last night was – Jesus, I don't even know what to say about last night. Did any of it even happen? Or did I dream it all up?"

  "It happened," she smiles, and for the first time I see a hint of shyness in her expression. There's something vulnerable there, under the surface. Something I didn't see last night, when my dick was hogging the blood supply from my brain. It makes me want to protect her. It makes me want to pull her into my arms and tell her that everything is going to be OK. Which would be ridiculous, given the few hours we've known each other.