She holds out a beer. "I brought a reward for a hard day's work. Don’t waste it. I had to sneak it outside."
She smiles seductively. I take it and turn it up, downing it in a few seconds, before scanning her body very slowly. "You look...different."
"You didn't think the way I look in all those suits is how I always look, did you? That would be boring."
"I kind of like this look. What are those things you call your uniform? Pencil skirts? They form barriers."
"It's not a uniform. I'm not a fucking underpaid officer. I'm a detective, a very good and highly paid one, just like you. Those pencil skirts are designer. Get it right if you're going to call me out, and I'm good at crossing barriers."
She closes in on me and wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me closer to her. Her tits brush against my chest. Her bra must be thin, because I can feel her hardened nipples. She already has her cleavage staring me in the face. That little black dress does wonders for her body. “Isn’t it a little cold to be wearing that?”
“I’m pretty hot right now.” She grabs my hand and places it firmly on her ass. I squeeze, unable to help myself. I didn't put my hand there; therefore, I don't have to ask. "They don't call us Georgia peaches for nothing, Kaston. Stop pretending you don't want this. You know you do. We visibly undress each other all day at work, before mentally fucking each other. Two grown adults can enjoy a night away from the office. Case files can sit idle for a few hours. What do you say?"
She's causing a lapse in good judgment. Moving my hand to the small of her back, I rotate us and back her against the door of my truck. "There's a no fraternization policy. I can't touch you, Makayla."
"Who's going to tell? I know I won't. Come on, Kaston. You don't look like the type of guy that plays by the rules. Don't think I haven't noticed the tattoos you occasionally forget about and let show underneath your suit."
She grabs my hand again and places it to her thigh this time, inching it up the inside of her leg until she reaches her panties. She slips the tips of my fingers under the edge, leading them to her center. "Come on, touch it. You know you want to." My finger inadvertently dips inside and it's all over. I'm going to fuck her. It's been a long time coming. She's hot as hell and her pussy is warm and wet. I need a release anyway.
I thrust in and out. "You want my cock, Makayla?"
She lays her head flat against the window and licks her lips as she moans out. "Yes. I want to consume it whole."
Her eyes roll to the back of her head each time I thrust inward and hook my fingers. I close in, leaving barely any space between us. I continue, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she opens them there is a hunger present that makes my dick stand at full attention. "You want my dick, I'll give it to you, but I decide when, and right now I need a fucking drink, because when I fuck you, you better be ready. I have stamina, baby. Once I start I don't stop...until I'm done. Twenty minutes isn't worth shedding my fucking clothes for. Follow me."
I withdraw my fingers from her pussy and run the tips along her bottom lip, instructing her to open her mouth. She looks unsure, until she can tell that I'm not leaving until she sucks them clean. I'm not wiping them on my clothes and I don't know where all she's been. Her lips part and I inch the two fingers inside, allowing them to run over her tongue. I stare into her brown eyes. "Suck them clean. Show me what I have to look forward to later."
With that I can see the amusement in her eyes. She grabs my hand in both of her small ones, guiding it as she suctions around my index and middle fingers. She slowly pulls them from her mouth, moaning the entire way, until she releases them with a verbal smack. I knew she was probably kinky as hell. Tonight's going to be fun, but first I need liquor.
I've found over the course of my life that I need whiskey to get off, the opposite of the average man. Whiskey dick doesn’t really exist in my world. If I don't numb my mind I can't nut, then I have to listen to the bitching that always follows, usually that they aren't good enough or some other shit about physical appearance. It's the exact reason why I prefer to always fuck drunk, both parties that is, then I can blame it on whiskey dick in the case that I can't follow through, even with the alcohol.
Ever heard of a guy faking it? Well, it happens. I always glove it, so it's rarely detectable, especially if she's drunk. All it takes is stilling inside of her and giving her a little moan or groan to confirm it’s done. You can always depend on latex to minimize sensitivity.
It's easier for me to get myself off after I'm done than during the act itself. It has nothing to do with any woman, because I've been lucky enough that the women I've been with are always hot as hell. I'm sure my genetic makeup has something to do with that. My mother was a beautiful woman, whether a sorry one or not. I guess my dad is decent in that area as well. I'm not really sure what the problem is to be honest.
I figure it could be one of two things. The first being that once you’ve had meaningless sex so many times, it just loses its wow factor. The second being something to do with how Dad raised me, and that's to shut down all emotions unless you find someone that makes it impossible. Things were very cut and dry between us, emotion slipping in only on rare occasions. It was the only way he knew he'd be able to tell me of his little secret and me not freak the fuck out. There was no way to hide it forever, so he spent years shutting me down, and now there is nothing inside.
I drop my hand and back up, creating a distance between us. "Come on. I'll buy your drinks. It's been a long day. You're going to need them if you plan on being with me tonight."
I turn and walk away, not looking back to see if she's following behind. She is. They're pretty much all the same. They always want an asshole until the asshole doesn't want them. I'll be wanted tonight and despised tomorrow...when she finds out that unlike some I can fuck and shut it off. If I want more I'll take it, if not I'll send her on her way. Judge me if you want, but it is what it is and I am who I am. A woman can't expect a husband when she throws herself at a man.
The line to the bar comes into view. I skip it. Bruce is at the door. He never makes me wait. I guess that comes with the territory of a detective being friends with the staff. It keeps them out of shit to have a badge on their side. "Kaston, what's going on, man?"
He clicks the counter in his hand twice as he unhooks the rope, letting us enter. The line of people moans in unison as we move to the opposite side. Getting any kind of special treatment in a large city usually has that effect. Bars in Atlanta on Friday night are never quick entry.
I like Bruce. He's been here at least since I was a freshman in college, so I've known him for years. Why in the hell he still works at a bar at his age, I have no idea, but he's a cool enough guy. "Not shit, man. Just pretending to be a grown-up, usually taking one up the ass by the boss. You know how it goes."
"You right." He laughs as I open the door to the bar. "Don't leave without hollering at me first."
I hold up the same two fingers that were just submerged in Makayla's pussy and wave him off as I hold the door open for her to pass. "If you have a hard time finding me don't come looking," I say halfway jokingly.
He nods as he watches her enter the building, knowing exactly what I mean, and that I'm one hundred percent serious. If at all possible I'd prefer to get this over with here instead of having to deal with her wanting to go back to my apartment and me declining. I don’t want to go to hers either. This way we can part ways after, instead of her trying to persuade me to stay the night and me feeling like the bastard that I am for not wanting to. I don't have a spare key to the owner’s office for nothing.
I walk in behind her. She starts slightly moving her body to the music as we trudge through the heap of people gathered in a large mass. I have one line of vision and that's from here to the bar in the middle. It looks like Danyel is free. I place my hand on the small of Makayla's back to speed her along before the intoxicated bystanders swarm the bar.
A few steps from the bar she spots me and immediately
gets a glass ready to fill. I'm a predictable drinker and I tip well. If I come to a bar it's whiskey, always, and this is the only bar I come to ninety percent of the time. Beer is a man's wine. That is for dinner. I stopped getting drunk on beer a few years back. A few too many kegs and frat parties I suppose. I'd have to invest in stock of a brewery to get anything out of it because I get so full I pass out first.
I lay a bill flat on the bar and slide it toward her as we come into arms reach of each other. Danyel is smiling as she thrusts the partially full glass across the bar, letting it glide on the surface of the wood. I open my hand, catching it as the liquid sloshes around on the inside of the clear glass. "I was wondering if I was going to see you tonight. It's about that time."
I clamp my hand around the glass and pick it up as I whirl the amber liquid around the interior. My mouth starts to salivate. I look at Makayla standing next to me and press the glass to my lips, tilting my head back until it's empty. I swallow. The room temperature liquid coursing through my system scratches an itch nothing else can. It's unexplainable, but it calms an urge that I'm still unsure about. That mysterious urge is why I'm in law enforcement. Dad and I both clean up the scum on the streets, just in different ways.
"That it is." I pull out the stool and take a seat. "Get her whatever she wants, okay? Keep them coming. Don't let me run dry."
"Vodka and cranberry, please," Makayla says as she sits down beside me.
Danyel looks Makayla over for the first time as if she just noticed she's here. The look on her face transforms as if she wants to scratch her face and pull her hair out. Down girl.
Danyel and I have hooked up on several occasions, none of which I regret each time I remember how she looked riding my cock. Fuck, I've been coming here since I was eighteen and she was the hot bartender only a few years older than me. What better way is there to drink underage than by giving the bartender countless orgasms throughout her shift, in exchange for a wristband and free alcohol? Sounded like a good idea to me at the time. I like her. Have since I met her. She's cool as shit, and never attaches herself to me in an emotional form. Her claws only come out when she's already planned to take me for herself for a few hours and I've made other arrangements...but those arrangements can always be slightly altered.
I smirk as my mind engages in the new thought that is forming; the very one that involves both of them naked and willing to do anything to enjoy the feel of my dick immersed from wall to wall of drenching wet pussy. I look between the two of them, staring each other down, waiting for the other to back down, and making me horny as hell. Two females in heat smells like the perfect meal after a cocktail.
The only way this is going to go my way is to piss off Danyel. She's the instigator of the two. She never says no to anything when she wants something, and I've got what she wants. Women have all the power my ass. Shove a good-looking asshole that knows how to use his dick in their faces and they become putty in my hands, ready to bend and mold into what I want them to be. Makayla will be a little harder to convince. I can tell she's wild, but she lets it build slowly before she explodes.
"Who are you?"
Good girl.
"Makayla. I work with Kaston. Do y'all know each other?"
There's the transformation I'm looking for. Time to relax and watch it play out. I remove a drink straw from the stack and place it in the side of my mouth to chew on until I can get a cigarette. The person that banned indoor smoking is on my shit list. Danyel refills my glass without even looking at it. She has bartending down to an art. People are shoulder to shoulder at the bar, waving cash in the air and waiting to be served, but she never moves from in front of us; the perks of seniority.
"If you want to count orgasmic introductions then I would say so; pretty damn well," she says casually, baiting Makayla.
My dick starts to harden.
Not yet.
Danyel fills the empty plastic cup with ice and slams it on the bar in front of her, before pouring the vodka to her imaginary fill line, and then presses the button on the spout for the cranberry, letting it fill until the cup is full. She then tops it off with a drink straw and slides it toward Makayla. Makayla has said nothing thus far. I shrug it off. Oh well. Would have been fun. I need a woman with a bitch gene, a backbone. I look at Danyel's tits peeking out of the top of her cutoff shirt. She does have a beautiful rack. Maybe I'll just send Makayla home. I already know my way around Danyel’s body.
"You want to stay while I lock up?" My eyes hesitantly leave their current location and move back to her face. I slam my drink back and take a deep breath, needing the burn.
I open my mouth to agree. "He already has plans, but that's sweet of you to offer. He's done playing in the minor leagues, but at least he got some good practice for the majors."
And now I'm completely hard.
"Before you get all cocky, bitch, why don't we let Kaston decide? Have some class."
"You want to talk about class? You work at a fucking bar. You're no longer entitled to that category."
Danyel starts to reach across the bar and I grab her behind the neck, pulling her to me. I know she could tear Makayla to shreds. I pull her bottom lip between mine and lightly suck, before biting down. She moans. "You want to prove who's better, then do it, but not this way. You need your fucking job. Don't be stupid. I promised her tonight, but there's room for you too."
"You cannot be fucking serious," Makayla says loudly. "You actually think I would do that?"
The side of my mouth starts to pull up as I look into Danyel's brown eyes. Her mouth mirrors mine. That girl will do any-fucking-thing, and that's why I continue to fuck her from time to time, even after all these years. "I'm game," Danyel says with a smile in her tone. "What about you, Blondie? Are you scared of a little competition or are you just going to bow out and let me have him all to myself?"
We both look at Makayla at the same time. She has a disgusted expression all over her face. I shrug. "I never said I was sugar, baby. I like spice. If you can't handle the heat, then maybe you should get out of the kitchen. I'm not looking for a wife. I'm looking for a good time. You in or out?"
She narrows her eyes as she stares into mine. "What the fuck ever. I can't believe I'm going to do this for a hot guy. I'm going to need a stronger drink for this. Fix me a walk me down, and make it a double."
Danyel wastes no time refilling my glass and making Makayla's with a shit-eating grin on her face the entire time. She slides it in front of her. "I guess I'll see you at closing. Make sure you wear that red lipstick. I like it," she says as she winks at Makayla.
Makayla growls out her frustration and picks up her drink. "I'm going to circulate. I suddenly need some air. I'll see you guys in a bit. Oh, and Kaston, you're going to dance with me when I start to feel this alcohol. It's the least you can fucking do."
“I don’t dance,” I say sarcastically, making her even angrier as I take a sip of my drink.
“You’re an asshole away from work. Whatever. I’ll find a stand-in.”
I turn and watch as she walks away, strutting that fine ass as she does. I'm going to get a better look at it later when I have her bent over this bar. When she disappears I turn back toward the bar and finish my drink. Danyel is still standing there watching me. "There's always one thing I can count on with you, Kaston. You'll never fucking change. That, sexy, is the best quality someone can have."
"I am who I am, and that’s the person that I want to be. I don't have a reason to change, because I don't give a shit if people like me or not. Get back to work before you get fired. I'm going to play pool. When the bar is clear I'll be waiting with my cock in hand for you to suck. Think about that while you're serving that fat, ugly bastard in the corner that's drooling over your ass right now."
She immediately turns to verify the creepy motherfucker that probably has a wife at home while he's wishing he were still in his twenties. That's what is wrong with the world. People always want what they don't have instead of just t
aking what they want in the beginning versus following a crowd. I may be twenty-eight and single, but that’s because I choose to be.
I don't have the slightest desire to wear a tux and condemn myself to one woman for the rest of my life. Something happens to couples after they walk down the aisle. They change. At least I'm honest about it. It saves one poor woman from being stuck in bed home alone, wondering where her husband is at night and what he's shoving his dick into. When that happens, you end up with bastards like me walking around. I stand and grab my newly refilled glass, disappearing before she turns back around.
I throw back my fifth shot as I wait for the random college frat boy to take his shot. He's good, but not as good as me. I'm the king of pool. I used to take bets from guys wanting to show off their testosterone levels to the hot girls circulating the bar, as if that was going to confirm their dick sizes. None ever won, and it didn't increase their chances at getting laid. That's the funny thing about women. They can sense a show off a mile away.
"You ready to empty your wallet, Wall Street?" He looks at me as he aims his cue stick at the cue ball, pulling the stick back and forth in his finger mount on the felt as he gets ready to try to put the solid into the corner pocket. Both of us have one ball left before the eight ball. Wall Street my fucking ass. I'm not changing my clothes just to come to a damn bar. I went to work, I got off, and I came to a bar to numb this twitch I can't seem to get rid of. I'm not even wearing my jacket and tie anymore. I left that shit in my truck. My sleeves are even rolled up to my elbows.
I hold the tip of the pool stick toward him. "You sound confident, frat boy. You sure you got it in the bag?"
He looks up at me with a cocky smile on his face. "I'd be willing to double the pot. What do you say?"
"Aight. Go for it. I'm down." He starts to reposition his aim, readying to take the shot. A drunken giggle sounds beside my ear.
"Wait, waaaait, just one minnnute," she slurs. "Can you beat him with a pretty distraccction in your face?"
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