by Cat Carmine
But that’s all it is. A fantasy.
The kitchen door swings open and Jace emerges, carrying a steaming sandwich on a plate. You wouldn’t think it from looking at the exterior of this place — it screams dive bar — but they make awesome food here. The grilled cheese is probably the best I’ve ever had: thick white bread, sharp white cheddar old enough to have its own driver’s license, sliced pears, maple-smoked bacon, and fresh chives. A greasy little taste of heaven.
I’m taking the plate from him before he can even set it down on the bar and for just a second, our fingers touch.
A jolt shoots through me.
“Careful — it’s hot,” Jace warns.
I’ll say.
I reluctantly let go and allow him to set the plate in front of me, and then take another giant guzzle out of my wine glass. Now I’m wishing I’d ordered a beer — at least it would help cool me down a little.
A gaggle of college kids push in through the front door, laughing and as soaking wet as I was earlier, and Jace is occupied with serving them while I work on savoring my carbs and cheese.
By the time I finish my sandwich and my wine, I’m actually feeling marginally better. My clothes are almost dry and the day’s earlier humiliation is starting to fade into the wine buzz. Who cares if Turner & Crosby want me to take a couple of weeks off? It’s basically a paid vacation! My career so far has been so busy and intense that I can’t even remember when I last had time off. This is the perfect opportunity to stay in my pajamas all day and eat bonbons and watch soap operas, or whatever it is people do when they’re on vacation.
Hell, maybe I’ll even get myself laid while I’m off.
My eyes flit involuntarily to Jace as soon as the thought crosses my mind.
As if he can read my thoughts, he looks up from where he’s taking drink orders from a couple of douchey-looking young Wall Street types. Our eyes meet across the room, and it’s like an electric current shoots through me. It’s enough to make me shudder, and almost enough to make me fall off my chair.
Jace’s face twists into a slow grin and I find myself smiling back. Hesitantly. Maybe …
Then he glances down at my empty wine glass and nods, signaling that he’ll be back in a second to top up my drink. I sigh.
Crush on a bartender and what do you get? Well, if you’re as bad at flirting as I am, apparently drinks are the only thing you get.
Jace makes his way back over to me and refills my glass. Before I can even thank him, he’s turned around again, mixing drinks for the group he just came from. Well, if nothing else, it gives me an opportunity to check out his ass. I slurp my wine and take in the full hard roundness of his delectable backside, the way his shoulders ripple as he reaches for various bottles of liquor on the shelves above.
I rest my chin in my hand in sigh, then realize how pathetic I’m being. I’m practically flashing him cartoon heart-eyes, but to him, I’m just another customer.
I reach for my wine glass, intending to take another long satisfying swallow, but somehow I misjudge the distance and end up thwacking the stem of the glass with the back of my hand.
“Fuck!” The glass goes sailing, spilling wine all over the bar and down onto my charcoal skirt. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
Jace spins around to see what the commotion is. I’m frantically reaching for the napkins, only to realize I used them all when I was mopping up my face earlier. I look helplessly up at Jace as I use my hands to try to stem the tide of wine from flowing off the bar.
“Here.” He tosses me another clean towel and comes around to my side of the bar with a second one. Together we mop up the spilled wine.
His body is so close to mine as he stands there, wiping up my mess. I stop my cleaning efforts, suddenly intensely, incredibly aware of the hardness of him, the heat of him. His thick solid presence next to me. My skin sizzles and burns, like a hot pan. My breath catches in my throat.
My fingers reach out, almost of their own volition, and graze along his forearm.
I don’t mean to do it. Honestly. The same way I didn’t mean to throw those muffins at Martin. Some unconscious part of me takes over though, and before I know it I’m running my fingertips along the smooth skin of his inner arm.
He tenses, his fist clenching around the towel, making the veins on his arms pop out. My heart is racing but I trace my finger along those ridges, all the way down to his wrist and then dance across the palm of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I say. My voice sounds hoarse. It barely even sounds like me.
“It’s okay.” His voice is hoarse too, I can’t help but notice, and I wonder for a second what that means. I force myself to look up into his eyes — those blue eyes, the color of the New York City sky on a perfect summer day. His eyes have gone dark now, though, and they bore right into me.
“What time is your shift over?”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, before I can tell myself that this is a bad idea. Three years of coming here and I’ve had enough of fantasizing about Jace The Bartender. I want a taste of the real thing.
Jace squints and seems to hesitate, but only for a second. He tears his eyes away from mine just long enough to glance down at the old leather watch on his wrist.
“Twenty minutes.” His voice is rough, gravelly.
“Good.” I bite my lower lip, hoping he understands my meaning.
There’s a moment when I’m not sure, or when I think perhaps he’s considering how to let me down easy, but then his mouth twists into a sexy smirk.
“Good,” he echoes, and the pleasure licks through me like a flame.
Twenty minutes later, I’m leaving the bar with Jace The Bartender, wondering just what the hell I’m doing.
3
Celia
We take a cab to my apartment, and every moment of it is pure delicious torture. We both sit politely and quietly on either side of the backseat, as if we’re nothing more than friends or colleagues. But my mind is racing, thinking about all the things I’m going to let Jace The Bartender do to me tonight.
I sneak glances at him in the dark interior the cab, and every time I do, I catch him looking back at me. I wonder if he’s thinking about the same things I am. About how I’m going to wrap my lips around his dick. About what his stubbled jaw is going to feel like against the soft skin of my inner thigh. About how it’s going to feel to finally have his cock inside me.
I squirm in my seat and he glances over at me, one cocky eyebrow raised. I smile at him, suddenly shy, and he reaches over and puts his hand on my knee.
That’s all it takes for me to melt into my seat. His warm palm on my bare skin sends sparks all the way up my thigh, cresting between my legs and swelling my clit. I let out the smallest of whimpers. Again, I don’t mean to, it just comes out.
Jace’s eyes flash with lust. He leans over and then he’s kissing me, his lips mashing into mine, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. I can feel his fingers tugging my hair as he slides his tongue into my mouth, tangling it with mine. He tilts my head back so he can kiss me even deeper and the feeling of his hands against my scalp and his tongue tracing mine and his stubbled jaw brushing my chin is enough to make me come undone.
Neither of us notice when the cab comes to a stop. We’re still kissing frantically when the cab driver clears his throat loudly.
I pull away, embarrassed and trying to catch my breath, but Jace just smirks as he pays the driver. That was quite possibly the best kiss I’ve ever had — though I’m sure for him it’s a near weekly, if not daily, occurrence.
Don’t think about that now, I chide myself. Yes, he’s probably a playboy. But for just tonight, he’s my playboy.
As soon as the cab drives away, we’re back to being chaste and well-behaved — in other words, more torture. Jace waits patiently as I dig around in my purse for my keys and then he follows me through the lobby of my building.
I nod a hello and smile at Mr. Farrah, our evening concierge, an
d then lead Jace to the elevators.
“Nice building,” he comments, as the gleaming silver doors swing open.
“It should be,” I say, trying to keep the note of bitterness out of my voice. “It costs a damn fortune.” Martin and I had bought this place together, and I was still trying to figure out whether I could afford to buy it out from him. I didn’t love the place but I also wasn’t really excited about the idea of trying to find another condo any time soon. New York City real estate is basically on par with the Hunger Games.
Jace is quiet as we ride the elevator up to the twelfth floor and as we walk down the hall towards my apartment. I live in the corner unit, which means it’s at the very end of the hallway, and tonight the walk seems to take hours. All I can hear is Jace’s footsteps behind me and my own heart, thudding in my ears.
Finally, I’m unlocking the apartment door and leading him inside. I flick on the lights and he looks around.
“Do you … want a tour, or anything?” I ask, suddenly nervous again as I let the door swing closed behind us.
“No.” He shakes his head and smiles.
“Okay. Do you want a drink?”
“No.” He shakes his head again, still wearing that sly smile.
“Okay.” I swallow. This is really happening. “Do you want …”
“Celia.” He cuts me off. “Stop.”
“Okay.”
He steps toward me. His eyes are hooded and dark, but all I can see are his lips. Those soft perfect lips, the ones I want to feel all over my skin, between my legs, covering my pussy.
I lean forward, just a little, and then Jace takes me into his arms. I’ve got my share of womanly curves but I feel tiny with his powerful arms wrapped around me, as if he could lift me right up off my feet if he wanted to.
Instead he presses me up against the wall. His face is so close to mine that I feel his warm breath on my cheek, can smell the mint on his breath.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this for a very long time,” he says. His voice is rough and gravelly and it makes my knees go a little weak.
“Really?” The word barely comes out as a whisper.
“Really, Celia. I can’t wait to make you scream.”
I gulp. From the wrong person, those words might be terrifying, but coming from Jace they’re like an electric shock straight to my clit.
“I can’t wait for that either,” I manage.
He grins, that same sexy smirk that makes me want to bite his bottom lip.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Then he’s kissing me again, rough and demanding and with none of the awkward hesitation that Martin used to kiss with. Jace is nothing but feeling, nothing but pure animal magnetism. He kisses me like a force of nature, like a typhoon.
And I let myself be carried away by it. By him.
His tongue is past my lips and he strokes my tongue with his. He explores my mouth completely, teasing me and tasting me, a promise of what’s to come later. With one hand he reaches down and grabs my wrists and then lifts them up over my head, pinning them against the wall.
It’s forceful and hot as hell, the way I feel helpless before him. I’m breathing hard already, and I can feel how hot and wet my pussy is. I want him to touch me so badly, but I like what he’s doing now too much to stop him.
He keeps kissing me, holding my hands above my head, and then he moves his head down to start kissing my neck, my collar bone.
My nipples are already rock hard and straining under the lace fabric of my bra and when he uses his free hand to cup my breast, it sends an arc of desire straight through me. He massages my breasts roughly and I moan into his neck.
“God, that’s good,” I manage to breathe.
He chuckles roughly. “We’re just getting started, baby girl.”
He goes back to kissing my neck, still rubbing my breasts, but then too soon, he pulls back. He wipes his mouth and stares at me, burning holes right into my skin.
“Take off your jacket.”
I’m still wearing the charcoal blazer I had on earlier, and now I wordlessly slip it off my shoulders. I start to fold it up so that I can put it on the console table, but he yanks it out of my hands, letting it fall to the floor.
“We don’t fold clothes during foreplay, Celia.”
My cheeks flush but he grins playfully. “Now, the shirt too. You can just let it fall on the floor,” he adds with a wink.
My hands shake as I slowly unbutton the white shirt I’m wearing. The one that was crisp as paper this morning, that’s damp and rumpled now. My fingers tremble and I fumble with the buttons, but Jace makes no move to help me, just watches me intently.
Finally I tug the bottom of the shirt out of pencil skirt and undo the last button. I take a deep breath and let the shirt fall slowly off my shoulders and onto the floor.
Jace sucks in a breath as he takes me in. He reaches his hand out slowly, deliberately, and then slides one finger under the strap of my pale pink lace bra. My skin burns under his touch.
He moves his hand away.
“This too.” His voice is still commanding, but there’s a hitch to it that wasn’t there before.
I reach behind me and unclasp the bra, and then pull it away from my body. My breasts spring free, my nipples instantly hardening even more in the cool apartment.
A rumble comes from Jace’s throat, low and animal-like.
Finally, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us. His hands go to my upper arms as he kisses me, grazing his lips first lightly against mine but then more hungrily, as his hands rove over my body.
When he finally cups my breasts in his palms, I lean into him, sighing.
He flicks his thumbs across my nipples, making me gasp, and then he pinches them lightly, running the stiff peaks under his fingertips.
I arch my back towards him, throwing my breasts at him, wanting him only to keep doing whatever kind of magic it is he’s working with his hands. But instead he chuckles and bends his head down and then he’s grazing my stiff bud with his teeth.
I suck in a breath as he sucks my nipple into his mouth, holding it between his teeth and flicking at it with his tongue. I’m rocked with another wave of desire, and then he’s moving on to the other breast, giving that one that same delicious treatment.
I run my fingers through his hair. We’re still in the hallway of my apartment, and I can feel the cool wall pressed up against my back — a stark contrast between the heat of his lips on my skin. He’s moving lower on my body now, kissing his way down over my rib cage and across my stomach, past my bellybutton. I shiver in anticipation. I want to feel his mouth on me so bad I could scream.
Jace drops to his knees in front of me and pushes up my skirt. It’s a sensible grey pencil skirt, but suddenly, bunched up around my waist, it feels like the sexiest piece of clothing I own.
I have a moment of panic, trying to remember what underwear I put on this morning, but then I breathe out a sigh of relief, remembering it was a black thong. I don’t have any more time to think about it, though, because Jace slides his fingers up under the edges of the thong and yanks it down over my thighs.
He shimmies the scrap of fabric down my legs and I kick it off awkwardly over my heels. I realize suddenly that I’m naked in front of him, except for my bunched up skirt, which is doing nothing to hide anything. Jace, of course, is still wearing all his clothes. How exactly did that happen?
He’s kneeling in front of me now, and I look down at him and find him looking back up at me. His big palms are braced against my thighs and he slowly spreads them apart, watching the expression on my face. I bite my lip, waiting, and he leans his head forward.
I’m already so wet that I can feel juices dripping down my thigh, but when Jace’s tongue flicks across me, it’s like a geyser goes off inside me. I can’t do anything but moan as he finds my clit and runs his tongue all over it, flicking it gently and sucking it between his lips.
Jesus. The man kn
ows how to eat pussy. I’m not going to think about the many women he’s probably practiced on though. All I’m going to think about right now is the way he’s stiffening his tongue and running it in tight circles around my clit, the way he flattens his tongue down and runs it along my cleft, the way he brings his hands up and plunges two fingers deep inside me as he licks and sucks.
My legs are starting to shake and tremble. I arch my hips out to give him a better angle and then brace myself against the wall behind me.
Jace doesn’t lose any of his momentum. His tongue continues its merciless assault on my clit as my nerves catch fire and send flames arcing through me.
“Oh fuck,” I whimper, as the orgasm takes me over. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Jace!” I run my fingers through Jace’s hair again and clutch his short locks, pulling his face closer to me as my body convulses. Everything goes out of me — breath leaves my lungs and thoughts leave my head and all sense of propriety goes flying out the window as I’m pulling his hair and screaming his name.
He keeps licking even as the orgasm subsides, sending tiny little aftershocks through me. My clit is incredibly sensitive but somehow he softens his gestures just the right amount, enough so that I can stand it but not so much that it lets me fall off that knife’s edge. Instead I skate along it until, incredibly, I feel the second orgasm come on.
My body shakes harder this time, my legs almost giving out from under me. Jace uses his free hand to brace my hips and help keep me upright. He sucks my clit between his lips one more time just as the final wave breaks over me. I try to scream his name again but this time even my voice is gone.
Finally, finally, he pulls away. His face is damp from my juices and he licks his lips and then lightly brushes it with the back of his hand as he stands up. I slump against the wall and laugh deliriously.
