“It’s an absinthe fountain,” Randy interrupted, appearing from nowhere, to take a seat beside her at the bar.
“I got this for Jameson’s.” As he spoke, Jack removed the top of the glass globe and filled it with ice and bottled Evian. “It was my dad’s. My mom found it and thought I might be able to use it.”
“You’re going to love this.” Randy drummed his fingers on the counter in anticipation.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Ally eyed the contraption that looked like some kind of fantastic Rube Goldberg machine. “I’m not a fancy-drink kind of girl. Give me bourbon on the rocks any day.”
“That’s my baby.” The note of pride in Jack’s voice sent a wave of warmth over Ally. He winked at her and smiled. “You need to try this, though. It’s all about the process. La louche, it’s called. The customers at Jameson’s will eat this shit up.”
“Absinthe is the aphrodisiac of the self. The green fairy who lives in the Absinthe wants your soul,” Randy said, eyes transfixed on the fountain. He’d shaved his head smooth as a billiard ball and wore a leather fedora. He looked like a deranged gangster.
“Okay. That’s creepy. Is he okay?” Ally lifted an eyebrow and nodded toward the giant red-haired man.
Jack shrugged. “He’s weird. Just ignore him.”
“That’s a quote from Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Can’t get any cooler than that,” Randy said with a scowl. “Absinthe is the shit, man. Look at all the great minds that have enjoyed it — Van Gogh, Oscar Wilde, Hemingway, Guy de Maupassant...”
Ally’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.
“Maupassant wrote some killer short stories about war,” Randy said. At her look of disbelief, he shrugged. “I like to read.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but Van Gogh cut off his ear, Hemingway committed suicide, and de Maupassant went insane from syphilis. Not exactly great references, in my opinion,” Ally said.
The broad mouth split into a grin. “Yeah, maybe, but they had a helluva ride on the way to madness.”
Jack brought out four crystal glasses that matched the style of the fountain and then brought a brown bottle of absinthe from underneath the counter.
“One hundred and sixty-nine dollars a bottle.” He lifted the bottle to the light and scrutinized its contents with one eye closed. “This is good shit. About the best there is, I think.” The liquid sparkled like emeralds as he poured it into the faceted glasses.
Over the top of each glass, he placed a slotted silver spoon fashioned like a dragonfly with delicate outstretched wings. On top of the dragonfly he balanced a sugar cube. With theatrical precision, he slid each glass under one of the fountain arms and adjusted the spigot with great care. A slow drip of water melted the sugar cube into the glass. With each dramatic drop, the air filled with a sweet herbal scent.
“Wait for it...wait for it...” Randy leaned forward to get a better look. As if by magic, the emerald green liquid began to cloud and lighten turning to a milky soft shade of jade. “There it is.” He rubbed his big hands together in glee.
Tasha slid into the seat next to Randy, pigtails bobbing. She wore an interesting combination of combat boots, ripped fishnet stockings, plaid shorts with suspenders and a white tank top. “Good. I made it.”
“Just in time,” Jack said as he removed the spoons and slid a glass in front of each of them.
In unison, the four of them raised their glasses. Ally took a cautious sniff and, finding the scent not unpleasant, risked a sip. The texture was thick, almost like cream, and it had a mildly floral taste with a hint of citrus. She closed her eyes and took another drink. A slow pervasive warmth spread through her belly and out into her limbs. When she opened her eyes, she found Randy, Tasha, and Jack staring at her with blatant curiosity.
“Well?” Randy asked.
“What do you think?” Jack raised an eyebrow.
“It’s alright,” Ally said and took another drink.
Two hours and three glasses of absinthe later, Ally possessed a new appreciation for the Green Fairy, as Randy called it. When she asked Jack for a fourth glass, he laughed and shook his head while explaining that she was drunk and didn’t know it. Apparently, absinthe had a much higher proof than her beloved whiskey. He slid a glass of ice water in front of her instead.
“You don’t want to be hung-over for work tomorrow,” he said, reminding her that she was no longer employed.
Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter. That was the beauty of absinthe. It made you see life with startling clarity while softening all the ugliness of the truth it revealed. So what if she was unemployed? She had a little money in the bank and time to figure things out. In the meantime, Jack seemed to be the more pressing issue at hand.
From the opposite side of the bar, he stared at her with lust-darkened eyes, his need for her as plain as the nose on his face. It was a beautiful nose, for that matter, long and straight with fine nostrils that flared slightly when he looked at her. Did her lust show as plainly? It must have, for with a suddenness that startled her, he reached over the counter and cupped the nape of her neck, drawing her to him for a demanding kiss. She half-rose from her barstool to meet his lips, returning the ferocity of his need.
Randy and Tasha sat near the jukebox, making out and proving Randy’s theory that absinthe worked as an aphrodisiac. Jack threaded his fingers through Ally’s and led her toward the back hallway. When he caught sight of Randy and Tasha engaged in a passionate lip lock, he scowled. “Damn it, Randy, I told you to stay away from her.” The couple each raised a hand, dismissing Jack with a wave. He sighed in acknowledgment of defeat. “Well, don’t come to me complaining when you guys hate each other.”
Once in his office, Jack took a seat in the old chair behind his desk and pulled Ally onto his lap, one hand wedged between her thighs and the other lightly stroking her back.
“So you want to tell me about your day?” he asked. “What happened that was so terrible? Was Penny late again?”
Ally’s heart warmed at his concern. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had even pretended to care what was going on in her life. The realization brought a lump to her throat. In the dim light his eyes looked almost black but they were sincere. His concern touched her in a way that she hadn’t felt before. She could almost believe that he really cared. He had that way of looking at a girl as if she mattered, as if he lived and died by her existence.
“You don’t want to tell me?” He stroked her back, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine from nape to buttocks, up and down, slow and deliberate. “You might feel better if you talk about it. Jesus, you’re so tense. It’s like holding a wildcat in my lap.”
“I know. I know,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. “I think I might be going crazy.” Crazy like her mom, she thought. Mental illness could be hereditary. Maybe she was losing it.
“You’re not crazy, baby, just stressed.” He shifted her weight over his legs and turned her so that she had to look at him. “Look – I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
His hand was so warm on the flesh of her inner thighs. He hadn’t moved it at all except to squeeze her occasionally for emphasis as he talked. If he had, he might have noticed the dampness accumulating just above where his hand rested. She fought off the urge to squirm. The combination of his fingers on the sensitive bare skin combined with his deep voice vibrating in her ear as he nuzzled along her neck was almost enough to make her come on the spot. A few more minutes of him touching her in that way and she might come. How embarrassing would that be?
“Ready to talk yet?” he asked. His fingers crept up her thigh. She tried to tug down her skirt but he brushed her hand away.
“I got fired from work today,” she blurted.
He stopped immediately, his face dark and serious. “Shit, baby. That is bad. What happened?”
“Corporate cut backs,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve been downsized.”
“So sorry.” He stroked her back again, fingers combing through her hair. “Look – you can’t let yourself get too upset about this. What’s done is done. You need to deal with it and move forward.”
“I know that,” she said, mollified by his contrite tone. “It’s just that I wanted this job so bad to prove to my dad that I can make it on my own. He’ll have a heyday when he finds out.” She hunched her shoulders forward and shook her head. “I feel like I have no control over my life.”
“Life happens. It’s ugly sometimes. You can’t control what other people do. What matters is how you handle all this. You can either let it break you down or you can pick yourself up, dust off that pretty little backside, and charge ahead.” He smiled at her. “You seem to me like the charge ahead kind of girl. Maybe this is opportunity opening a new door for you.”
His kind face blurred through her haze of tears. In theory, his words made sense and it was the kind of reassurance that she desperately needed right now. Somehow, in the circle of Jack’s arms, she felt safe from the outside world. She wrapped her arms around her neck and squeezed him hard.
“Feel better?” he asked when she relaxed her hold on him. She nodded and gave him a weak smile. “Good,” he replied. His fingers slid another inch up her inner thigh, the tips just brushing her panties. “I thought I told you to ditch these.”
“I...I forgot,” she stuttered as the deep baritone voice rumbled into her ear and straight down inside her. His lips were hot as if he had a fever and their touch brought gooseflesh to the skin that they touched.
“Alright. I’ll let you off the hook this time, but next time I tell you to leave your panties at home, you need to do it. Understand me?” His dark eyes gleamed with a wicked mischief that made her mouth go dry.
There he was – the sexy devil she’d met and admired from afar for so long. He’d been so patient and gentle with her over the past few weeks, quite unlike his reputation, that she’d forgotten about Jack the Manwhore.
“Stop thinking so much. That’s what gets you in trouble. You think too damn much.” With a swift shift of his weight, he leaned her back in his arms and loomed over her. “Let me make you feel good. Relax and forget about everything but you and me.”
“Jesus, Jack.” The words escaped her lips in a frightened but excited hiss.
“I think I know just the thing to make you feel better.” The only illumination in the room came from the pool of light on the desk from the lamp. Half of Jack’s face was hidden in shadow, the other outlined in sharp relief, highlighting the two facets of his personality. Good and evil. The angel and the devil.
“I was saving this for tonight, but now might be a better time…”
He went over to the mini-fridge beside his desk, removed a small square box from inside it, and set it on the desk. With a flourish, he flipped open the lid of the box to reveal a thick, creamy cheesecake. One of his eyebrows lifted, as his dark eyes bored into hers. He gripped one end of the tie around his neck and yanked it from his collar.
Her breath hissed in as he doubled the necktie. With one end in each hand, he snapped it with a loud crack.
“Come here,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared. You’re going to love this.”
“I’m not afraid.” But she was. The look in his eyes frightened her. Control of her emotions was all that kept her safe from him, and the touch of his fingers threatened that control, threatened everything that she believed to be true about herself. It was the absinthe at work, showing her reality with a sharper, clearer edge. If she lost control, she might never be able to regain it. He would break her heart. He held the power. He had done it to so many other girls, and how was she any different from them? But it was already too late. She loved him.
“Let it go, Ally. For just one night – for tonight – let go of all that bullshit you’ve got bottled up in here.” He tapped her forehead with a finger. “Let it go.” He leaned forward and stared at her with the look usually reserved for unruly drunks and people who played disco on the jukebox. It was a look that said he was not to be messed with.
“Alright.” She exhaled slowly and raised her eyes to meet his.
He kissed her then, long and slow and deep. The tip of one finger dragged across her lips and trailed down her neck to her cleavage. “Now...I’m going to do a few things to you that will make a whore blush, and I’m not going to be gentle about it. Are you ready for that?”
The absolute lack of moisture in her mouth made it impossible to speak. Instead, she nodded and tried to steady her breathing. Whatever worries had been rattling around in her head died an abrupt death as he reached down between her legs, twisted his fingers in the thin fabric of her panties and ripped them off with a sharp tug that brought a startled gasp from her lips.
“Give me your hands.”
He took the necktie and bound her by the wrists, tight enough that the leather cut into her flesh with a pleasant bite. With one hand on the necktie, he stretched her arms high above her head until she was forced to lift on her toes. He placed a hand on her chest and pushed lightly. The touch put her off balance and she fell back against the wall with a startled oof. A slight smile quirked his lips, as if the sound pleased him. He kissed her again, slower and deeper, until her knees began to shake. When he pulled his hands away, she realized that he’d hooked the necktie to the coat hook on the wall above her head.
“Very nice,” he said with a long look up and down her figure. She stood there, immobile, stretched out for his appraisal, trembling with anticipation.
“What are you…?” Before she could finish the question, he put a finger to her lips to silence her.
“You don’t talk, baby girl. You just listen.” His hands rested on her hips then began to travel up her sides, along her waist, over her ribs, to cup her breasts through her blouse. “I’m going to fuck you, Ally. Right here against the wall. The way I should’ve fucked you that very first night.” As he spoke, he unbuttoned her blouse then he yanked down the cups of her bra so that her breasts spilled out over the cups. She groaned and pressed her thighs tight together as a shiver of excitement raised gooseflesh on her breasts. With skillful fingers, he unbuttoned her skirt and slid down the zipper, letting the material fall to the floor with a whisper.
She stood half-naked before him, breasts jutting out, nipples hard.
“I’ve imagined you this way a dozen times.” Jack trailed his lips over the line of her collarbone as he spoke. His breath scorched against her skin. “Naked…subdued…at my mercy.”
As she watched, he scooped a dollop of cheesecake onto his finger and raised it to his lips. With a flicker of his tongue, he licked it away, dark eyes locked onto hers. He took another dollop but this time he raised it to her lips. She licked it from his finger in the same way that he had done and he groaned in approval. With a smile, he leaned forward and kissed away the crumbs of the graham cracker crust that clung to her lips.
“The next bite goes here.” He tweaked one of her nipples with a thumb and forefinger. His other hand slid over her bare belly and slid into the tangle of curls between her thighs. “And the next bite goes here.”
The troubles of the day melted away as Jack proceeded to rub cheesecake on her breasts and lick it away with a practiced tongue. He licked and sucked his way down to her belly then knelt in front of her. She writhed and moaned as he applied a liberal amount of cheesecake to her most sensitive place and slid his tongue between her legs.
“Oh…ah…please!” More than anything she wanted to touch him, to run her fingers through his glossy hair. “I need to touch you, Jack.” Her breath was coming in short pants.
“Nope.” He raised his head long enough to give her a warning glare. His hands left her body. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard the growl of his zipper and the rip of a foil packet as he prepared a condom.
His lips found hers again. This time his kiss was hard and demanding, pressing her into the wall with all of his considerable heigh
t. She yielded to him, struggling to melt into him. The plaster of the wall was cool on her bare bottom and backside while the heat of his chest scorched against her breasts and belly. His foot nudged her feet further apart and then he was inside her in one hard thrust.
Every nerve in her body flamed as he drove into her over and over. This was pure bliss unlike anything she’d ever known. Jack clung to her, moving her to suit his needs, using her body for his pleasure and giving her pleasure in return. It was more than pleasure; it was pure and unadulterated ecstasy.
When his hands moved underneath her bottom and lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He drove deeper and deeper until she wasn’t sure where he stopped and she began. Her head fell back against the wall with a thunk but she felt nothing but Jack.
An hour later, they emerged from the office and back into the bar. A panty-less Ally trailed behind Jack, legs shaking, and an obvious case of rug burn on her knees. True to his promise, he’d practiced a few moves on her that she was pretty sure were illegal in most of the fifty states and a few countries overseas. He was rough and demanding, barking out orders and taking control of her body in a way that proved he was used to being in charge. Even worse, she’d liked it. The memory of her greediness for his body brought a fresh flush to her already colorful cheeks.
Randy and Tasha sat on barstools at opposing ends of the bar with expressions of feigned innocence on their faces. Jack said nothing to either one of them, returning to his place behind the counter with an air of male smugness that Ally found amusing. She slid onto one of the barstools between Randy and Tasha, wincing as her bruised backside met the wood seat.
“Saddle sore?” Randy asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Shut up,” Jack snapped, pointing a warning finger at his friend. “I don’t even want to know what’s been going on with the pair of you.” He glared at Tasha who blushed an attractive shade of pink. “Don’t you two have somewhere to be?”
Intoxicated Page 19
