by Nora Flite
And that was partly why, seeing her and Kite going at it, I'd snapped. Some part of me, deep down, wanted to be involved in their morning fun. But while they might have had the time to finish, I didn't have the time to jump in.
So I'd stopped them. Was that jealousy?
No, I told myself, musing at the realization. It's greed. I ached to watch Marina come, but I wanted to be part of it. I needed to see her thrill with lust, and not from the sidelines. Plus, I told myself, nudging through the backdoor of my bar, Forcing her to wait will make it that much more exciting for her. For all of us.
Scanning the room, I shook my head in surprise. Anabelle hadn't mentioned that she'd bailed last night before cleaning up. Had her illness hit her that hard, even then?
There were glasses and empty bottles all over the place, the dark-wood of the booths and tables sticky in the pale lights. I wandered behind the bar, knew with one glance that nothing had been refilled or washed.
Kite's voice rang out a second after he kicked the door open. “Holy shit, it's a wreck in here!”
Peeking over at them both, I did a scan of Marina that ate up the vision of her in a mere blink. She'd managed to clean up some, but she still wore curve-hugging jeans and a top so tight it enhanced the shape of her delicious breasts.
Her face, though, her energy; she had that casual, tousled, just rolled out of bed look combined with the alluring “just fucked” style that people struggled to create. Except, for her, it was reality.
She'd tied her long, thick hair up in a tail, some pieces loose and framing her toffee skin. I committed all of it to memory, blamed it on my hitman history.
Clearing my throat, I started to peel back the cuffs of my expensive shirt. “Anabelle is very sick. So sick, it looks like she left in a whirl last night. We'll need to clean everything as fast as we can.”
Kite sighed, ruffling his hair with one hand as the other hooked casually in his jeans. Unlike me, he dressed more like some rockstar who had just stumbled out of his trailer. “You couldn't have just told me that earlier? Fuck. Okay. That means she isn't coming in tonight?”
“Right. I doubt she will.” Running water in the sink, I started piling glasses. “I'll have to make some calls. It's last minute, but maybe I can find a replacement.”
Marina came my way, slipping around to join me. “Let me help,” she said, dipping her hands into the suds.
Smiling, I peered at her. “You're sure?”
“I'm not going to stand around and watch you guys work,” she said, giving me a sly glance. “I don't know how to run this place and I definitely can't bartend, but I'm capable of washing some glasses.”
It was funny. It wasn't that I hadn't expected her to help out, it was that I was both pleasantly surprised at my own lack of surprise, as well as appreciative of her decision. Marina could have easily gone for a walk, left us to take care of our own troubles.
But that wasn't her.
Nodding, I said, “Thank you.”
I was rewarded with a dusting of pink over her neck. I loved it.
Kite tapped his foot, then started gathering up empty bottles. Between the three of us, the bar would look presentable within a few hours.
Bent over the sink with Marina, we scrubbed glasses while the less filthy ones ran through the automatic washer. Kite had vanished into the backroom, working harder than I'd seen him ever bother with. Was he going over inventory? What had motivated him so suddenly?
It's her, I realized with a start. Marina. She's gotten him... what, to grow up? She'd asked me, once, if Kite was always reckless. She'd said I was always taking care of him, and I had to admit, then and now... it was true.
I was always protecting my best friend. It was what had gotten us here. Blood Brothers, we—
Water flicked onto my sleeve, staining it from blue to black. “Sorry,” Marina winced, though her lips were too curled to be truly sorry.
Narrowing my eyes, I showed her the edge of my teeth. “It's fine, just an accident.” Dipping my forearms into the warm suds, I casually splashed her back. The wetness soaked onto the front of her shirt, glinting off of the enticing cleavage.
Jumping back, Marina gawked at me. Her arms were up, suds dripping onto the floor. Then, with a slow burn of wickedness, she turned the glass in her hand and emptied the cup over my chest.
I saw it coming, and still hadn't dodged. Standing there, I looked down at the soaked cloth and vest. With patience, I lifted my gaze back to her. Though I was staring her down with building energy, the threat of revenge, Marina didn't sway.
If anything, she beamed and stood taller.
“You did that on purpose,” I observed.
“Oh, most definitely.”
My hands were free, then they were full of her wrists. I'd moved quick, trapping her tight. She twitched, a mixture of fear and something else—something far more alluring—wild in her dark eyes.
It was a wonder she hadn't dropped the glass. I pried it free, then snatched her arm up once more. Marina was pinned against the sink, water making parts of her shirt sheer. That window exposed the bits of her I'd seen naked earlier. As if it were the first time, she still got my cock stiff with desire.
God, she wound me up so easily.
I couldn't let her know. It was all I had, my mask of calmness. My control.
The more time I spent with her, the more she cracked it. The more she cracked it, the more desperately I fought to rebuild the facade. Marina turned my granite blood into melting sand.
Breathing deeply, causing her breasts to rise, she looked up at me. “You're as fast as ever.”
Through her wrists, I felt the hammering of her pulse. “And you're as brave as ever.”
Her tongue ran over her plump bottom lip. The dampness it left was glossy, I could see myself in it. “Nothing to be brave about. You let me soak you. Guess you wanted to play.”
My smile smoothed into a neutral line. Not only had she noticed, she'd called me out on it. She could say she wasn't brave, but her actions roared the opposite.
One step, and our bodies were touching. The dampness of our clothes came together, a droplet sliding down the curve of her throat. I felt her swallow, saw her neck vibrate. Nothing was more addicting than making Marina react. This was the danger, this was what I had to keep myself aware of—how I was sinking further into her existence—but I didn't. Couldn't.
Not with her infecting my lifeblood.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, darting her stare from mine, to my lips, then back again.
My nails inched up her forearms, grazed the sensitive pits of her inner-elbows. What was I doing? “I don't know yet,” I admitted, taking a slow breath in. My lungs flooded with her spicy scent, my skull throbbing. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her hands made fists, testing me; my muscles were bunched. I didn't budge. The smile was gone from her angelic face. She smelled like sin, and I was ready to commit a new one. “Earlier today, you were so keen on stopping me,” she said.
That got me smirking. “And you argued so hard. So I take it you want me to keep going.” Bending low, I blew across the tiny hairs on her temple. Her shudder had my cock shoving against the front of my pants angrily.
She rocked into me, then tried to pull away; had my excitement scared her? “Wait,” she said, though she wasn't convincing. Eyes flashed to me, then to the room. “Not here, what about Kite?”
“I can call him in. It would take a mere shout.” My lips danced just above her skin, the presence all she could feel. I wanted her—god, did I want her—but I wanted her to crave me more, first. Nothing was better. I asked flatly, “Would you like that? For us to pick up where you two left off?”
Marina tightened, an elastic at its limit. “I—but the bar.” It was a weak excuse.
My attention wandered over her, inscribing the shape of her parted lips, the hooded draping of her eyelashes. Her heart was fluttering faster than a butterfly in a net. I'd always been the hunter, and it never got old.
Bending into her curves, my erection nuzzled her thigh. Her tiny sound was encouraging, but still, I did nothing beyond watching her. The subtle way she arched her jaw at me, her need for my lips was obvious.
I itched to close the gap. She was drawing me in, a blackhole that challenged my strength. Kissing her would be so simple, so exquisite.
Music blasted through the speakers in the bar, startling us both. My reaction was much smaller, but it was there. The way her breasts rose with her jump, I almost gave up my game. Almost ducked in to taste her.
“Sorry!” Kite shouted from the back. The music drowned him, then it faded to a reasonable level. “I was trying to liven it up in here!”
Detaching from Marina, I let my fingers trail up, briefly clutching her chin. “It's fine!” I called back, grinning down at her devilishly. My thumb pushed onto her lips, touched her bottom teeth... and then I stepped away. Her fury was tangible. “Good call on the music,” I said, glancing at Kite as he appeared.
He nodded, stretching with a yawn. “It'll help, I was getting sleepy going over all that paperwork.” His attention moved, finding Marina the way each of us always did. Her presence was hard to ignore. “What happened to you two?”
Shaking off her daze, she wiped at her shirt. To her credit, she gave no hint of her inner turmoil. But for me? I could still sense her lust. “Nothing,” she said, grabbing a towel. “Just dropped a glass in the sink.”
Folding his arms behind his head, Kite lifted an eyebrow. “Huh. Alright.” If he had any doubt, he didn't show it. His grin bloomed wide. “Ever think about helping us a host a wet T-shirt contest?”
In a blur, she chucked the towel at him. Kite ducked away, laughing. “Very funny,” she said, eyes sparkling. She glanced at me, then turned away. Maybe I was cruel, I'm not sure. But I didn't feel bad. Not at all.
I'd said I was a hunter. What was more delicious than the hunt?
****
By the afternoon, we'd gotten the place sparkling. The shipment of new beer kegs arrived, and Kite and I rolled them into the basement to arrange along the walls. Marina helped, too, even though we didn't need it.
I had a suspicion she was there just to watch us sweat. It probably didn't help that Kite had gone so far as to take his shirt off, baring his lean muscles to the dim lights that highlighted him even more.
As for me? I never went beyond rolling my sleeves. I worked smart, but even so, there was a sheen along my throat and forehead when we were done.
Leaning on the barrels, I pulled out my phone and checked for calls.
“Anything?” Marina asked, knowing I hadn't had a single ring all day.
Shaking my head, I tucked the device in my pocket. “No. I'm guessing it'll be up to us to bartend for the evening.”
Defeat pulled her features low. I knew what she was thinking, and it made my heart swell. Marina wanted me to fulfill my promise, for us to take her aside and shower her with the attention I'd stolen from her this morning.
The entire day, the flirtation and waiting had made her passion boil. I was sure by now she was frustrated, almost angry. A powder keg ready to burst.
Kite cracked his back. “I can do it. Or we can take turns.”
“That'll have to do,” I said. Turning, I cocked my head at Marina. “It'll fly by fast. Don't worry.”
She shrugged as casually as she could. “I'm not worried. I could use a drink, and having you guys serve me will be fun. It'll be a blast.”
Her lies were so very transparent.
“Besides,” she went on, swaying towards the stairs. Her walk was exaggerated just enough, drawing me towards the exciting curve of her perfect ass. “It's not as if I had better ideas about how to spend my time today. Right?”
“No,” I agreed, covertly adjusting my growing hard-on. “I'm sure none of us did.”
With the knowing glance she cast my way...
I wondered how convincing my own act was anymore.
- Chapter Three -
Marina
––––––––
I was burning up inside. It didn't matter how much whiskey I drank, or how I tried to bury my presence in the thumping music of the evening. No matter what I did to distract myself, my unsatisfied desires were pricking me like needles.
Fucking Jacob, how could he work me up like that?
Sighing, I sipped more of my drink and spun on the stool. The bar was packed, and both Kite and Jacob had ended up serving customers. Together, they dipped and darted and moved like dancers with bottles in their hands.
It was actually fun to watch, kind of sexy. Jacob looked handsome and refined in his usual attire, and Kite had that roguish thing going on, hair intentionally messy.
They were living temptation.
I really hated it.
What I hated more was how many girls were thrusting themselves at Kite. I'd never spent much time at their bar. The first night I'd come inside had been when I was looking for Kite, himself, and I'd had my eye on the prize too hard to care about anything else.
But now, sitting there as a girl giggled and tried to give Kite a deep view down her cleavage, I remembered how he'd acted that first night. I'd dragged him into the backroom, and he'd assumed I was looking for a hook-up.
It was hilarious, really. I'd wanted to hire him... not to fuck him.
Except now, my mind was running with a flurry of images. I'd watched Kite stumble, drunk, from this very place with girls on his arms while I'd been watching him in secret. I'd needed to make sure it was him, to make my plan.
Now, weeks later, here we were—and I wasn't sure what to feel.
I was pulled from my muddled thoughts by a new presence. “Hey there,” the pale, too-blonde man said. He was perched beside me, all teeth and sly eyes. One look said he was trolling for drunk pussy.
Great.
Giving him a tight smile, I crossed my legs. His gaze shot there, not even subtle. “No thanks,” I said.
“Sorry?”
“No thanks,” I repeated, arching my brows. “I'm not interested.”
His face twisted, all the false politeness melting away. “Fuck you, who said I was interested?”
“Just get out of here. I'm not on the market.” I wondered if it was worth it to waste all my whiskey by dowsing him in it.
He started to speak, and no doubt, it would be something awful. He never got that far. Reaching over the bar, butting between us both, Kite showed his giant smile. “Hey there!” he said loudly, pulling the attention of so many customers. “There a problem here?”
All at once, I was reminded of who Kite was—who he really was. If he wanted to be with other people, he could have been. He had his pick.
Again and again, he proved that he wanted me.
My blonde-pursuer looked sufficiently shocked. Eyeing Kite, then me, he bared his teeth in a grimace. “No problem, man. Just telling this bitch I'm not into her.”
Heat started to crawl up my spine. I had half a word on my tongue, but Kite ended everything. In a blur, he jumped the bar, curled his fingers in the guy's shirt, and thrust him easily towards to the door.
“Hey! Whoa whoa whoa!” Blondie shouted, arms wind-milling.
Kite grunted, people parted in his wake, and my visitor was tossed outside in a smooth flex of shoulders and forearms. Kite was strong, I knew that quite well.
The room had gone close to quiet, all eyes on the scene. Dusting his palms off, Kite smiled wide. “Stay the fuck out, we have enough assholes in here already.”
A mood that better fit a funeral started to spread. No one knew how to handle this sudden outburst from the bartender.
The crash of a glass came; I jumped, spinning to see Jacob and his faux shock. “My bad,” he said, now that he had drawn attention from the altercation. “Kite, come help me, please.”
And then it was over.
Everyone went back to drinking and talking, a tornado of noise that ate up everything. I was left sitting there, battling pleasure
and shock over Kite's sudden show of protectiveness. That man... it wasn't the first time he'd stepped in when someone else had gotten flirty.
He was possessive, never allowing anyone in my bubble.
No one but Jacob.
I watched them both, finishing my whiskey in one big swallow. The burn was good, I followed it down into my guts and hid myself there. It was brief, but it was some reprieve. I needed any escape I could get.
These two men were dangerous, but at this rate... my thoughts were my real doom.
****
The air was sharp, it dried out my lungs and shriveled the inside of my nose. It was good and clean and perfect for my needs.
It had grown close to closing time, but my endurance had failed me. I wasn't one for bar crowds. Before this, I'd lived a simple life in my tiny apartment, inching one day into the next and never straying from my drabness.
While I knew I'd changed, this part of me hadn't. I wanted silence, and for my skull to stop stretching with each new note of music or shrill, drunken scream.
I'd also taken too much whiskey in, and it flowed through my veins as much as my own blood. Leaning in the alley, I looked over the pair of fancy cars that belonged to Kite and Jacob. Silver and sunset, as different as their personalities.
My breath danced in the deep blue sky, no stars alive thanks to the city's light-pollution. Sliding to the ground, I put my chin on my knees and sighed. Why had I spent so much time here tonight? I could have easily ridden the Metro back home—Home, I mused. Not my home, it's theirs. Except, I'd moved in with them. It was the only place I had to rest my head at night.
It had been part of our agreement. They'd been paranoid that I'd run to the cops, insisted I stay under their roof. They played Big Brother with me... or they had. These days, I swear, they'd begun to trust me.
I mean, right now, I could have gotten up and just walked away. I could have taken the photo in my purse, the only picture I had of the man who'd killed my family—a photo Jacob had found for me—and tried to find him myself.
They'd gotten me to this point. Couldn't I finish the rest?
I knew where Kite kept his gun, his money. If I wanted to, I could really do it. I could take control, I...
