Shift Work

by Christy Gissendaner

  Smokey tried to pat her ass, but she slapped his hand away and sat. Smokey wouldn’t be Smokey if he didn’t cop a feel. She suspected he did it to get a rise out of Ty. Not that Ty would ever admit it bothered him when other men found her attractive.

  Sometimes she could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife. Other times she felt she could cut Ty with one.

  “Cut it out, Smokey,” Ty said and poured three shots. “Cheers.”

  They clinked glasses and threw back their drinks. Tolly waited for the warmth in her throat to move to her belly.

  Smokey snitched another swig. “I saw the Lawrence boy out at his cabin on my way here.”

  “He’s in town for a bit,” Ty responded.

  Tolly frowned. She hadn’t known Jackson was in town. They’d been friends in high school, but lost touch when he moved to Atlanta. “How is he? Still rolling in dough?”

  Ty chuckled, but he seemed bothered by something. “Last I heard.”

  “Must be nice.” Tolly poured herself another shot and drained it. “Is he single? I need a rich husband.”

  Smokey waggled his grizzled eyebrows at her. “I’ve got a healthy retirement from the railroad. Say the word and you’ll be the next Missus Smokey.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Tolly gave his hand a pat. “Very nice of you to offer though.”

  Ty threw back his second and third shot in rapid succession. The damned man drank like a fish, but never seemed to get drunk. More’s the pity. A drunk lay was her only chance with him.

  “Harold still tight-fisted with his beer money?” Smokey questioned.

  Tolly shook her head. “He set me up with a trust fund, but I can’t touch it until I’m thirty. Says he wants me to know what it’s like to work for a living first.”

  “Explains how Bryan built that big house. Last I checked, fire chief didn’t pay much.” Smokey reached for another round. “How many years until you can touch the money?”

  “Three.”

  Tolly didn’t want to rely on her grandfather’s money. She’d thought by twenty-seven she’d be a success, but her wildlife photography career had stalled despite a college degree and numerous submissions to publications across the world.

  She couldn’t afford to travel to exotic locations, so she made do with photographing local wildlife and made the occasional jaunt to the Gulf of Mexico to perform contract work for a small fishing magazine. Working with her aunt at the travel agency earned her reduced hotel rates, but she planned to travel the world and find the perfect shots as soon as she saved enough money.

  Smokey pushed his glass aside and stood. “Seems there’s a break in the storm. I’d better head home.”

  He dug out his wallet, but Ty waved it aside. “I don’t need your money, Smokey. Tonight was on the house.”

  “That’s right charitable of you,” Smokey answered. He tucked a five-dollar bill beneath his glass. “But I’ve got to tip the lady.”

  Tolly smiled up at him. “Thank you, Smokey. Be careful.”

  Ty refilled their glasses. “You don’t have to be home early, do you?”

  She finished the shot and shook her head. “I’m good.”

  Ty fingered the feathered end of a dart before he tossed it. Once again, he hit the center of the target.

  “When are you going to leave that bull alone?” She walked over to it and pulled out the two darts and tossed them back to him. “Does it even work anymore?”

  “It works.” Ty’s dark, daring gaze met hers. “Care to try it out?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Last time I got on that thing, I almost broke my shoulder.”

  “Chicken,” he replied.

  Maybe it was the alcohol or her inability to resist a dare, but she crooked a finger at him. “Turn it on then, big boy.”

  He stood, all six feet plus of lean, fit male and went to the control booth. He flipped a few buttons, and the bull whirled to life. Tolly put her left foot in a stirrup and hefted her right leg over the side.

  She grunted when her ass hit the hard saddle. That shit had been easier when she was eighteen.

  Ty grinned and twisted the control knob. The bull bucked forward, nearly unseating her, but she gripped it with her thighs and clung to the pommel.

  “Ha!” she exclaimed.

  Ty continued to twist the knob, shoving her this way and that, until she felt dizzy. The alcohol disorientated her, but she stayed on.

  “Eight seconds,” she called out.

  Ty let go of the control and approached her. He put his hand on the bull, right next to her thigh, and leaned in close. “You did go—”

  Tolly squealed and clutched the bull as it sprang forward, then turned a complete three-sixty. Her leg flung out and connected with something before the bull came to a stop.

  “Holy shit!” She jumped off and walked a safe distance away before she noticed Ty’s face. She rushed forward. “What happened?”

  Ty held his hand over his right eye, but a purpling bruise covered the bridge over his nose. “You kicked me.”

  “It was an accident.” She tugged his hand away. “Oh, dude. I’m sorry.”

  Ty lowered his arm, trapping her between his body and the control panel. He’d have a shiner by morning. She touched the skin beneath his eye. “Want me to grab a bag of ice?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine.”

  She moved her hand from his face. Although they no longer touched, she stood close enough to feel his breath. Air filled her lungs, making her giddy with desire and the alcohol coursing through her veins. Later, she’d blame it on the Jim Beam, but she had to touch him.

  “Ty—”

  He smothered her words with his lips. Swooping like a hawk to its prey, his mouth came down and crashed upon hers. He tasted like sweet honey and moonshine, an odd combination but the closest comparison she could think of. She’d come from a long line of bootleggers and was serious about her ’shine.

  He dwarfed her by several inches. Ty made her feel like he could toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to bed.

  Ty and a bed. A glorious fantasy if it ever came to fruition.

  She moaned and pressed closer, wishing he would touch her. The stubborn man kept his hands to himself, so she took the initiative and touched his hips, pulling him snug into the cradle of her thighs.

  Yes, right there. The sweet spot.

  Kitty cat approved.

  Ty swiped his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opened to him. Butterflies took flight in her veins and fluttered along her nerve endings. If kisses accomplished that, imagine what it’d be like naked.

  Ty pulled back. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  No. Don’t say sorry.

  She attempted to follow him with her lips, but he took a step back. The shock to her system jarred her more than the ALS challenge she’d done the past summer. “What’s wrong?”

  Ty ran a hand through his short, ruffled hair. “You should go.”

  She glanced at the windows. “It’s raining.”

  “You’re right.” Ty frowned. “I should go.”

  She cocked her head and studied him. “It’s your bar.”

  “Umm, yeah.”

  She’d never seen Ty so discombobulated. And all because of her.

  Her mouth curled into a smile. “You kissed me.”

  “I did.” For a moment, heat licked his gaze before he hardened his expression. “I made a mistake.”

  A mistake. Huh. The kiss of death. Sure to kill any mood.

  She plopped her hands on her hips. “Do you want me to go?”

  “Yes?” His gaze flickered away from her. “No.”

  She sighed. “Which is it?”

  “I want you to stay.” The words seemed torn from him as if he didn’t want to admit the truth.

  “So I’ll stay.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ty washed his hands and glanced in the mirror. The skin beneath his eye had turned blue. The injury served him right for provoking T
olly onto the bull, but with his quick healing, it’d be gone within a day.

  What the hell had he been thinking kissing her? Unlike a human male, he couldn’t blame the alcohol. His wolf allowed him to drink more than most men. Eventually he’d get drunk, but it took a lot.

  He groaned and bent down to splash water over his face. He swiped the droplets away with a towel before going to face the potential downfall awaiting him outside the bathroom.

  Tolly stood at the window, gazing upon the storm. The rain slacked off, but lighting lit the sky, highlighting her dark silhouette with each flash.

  He admired the fit of her shorts. He’d swallowed his tongue the first time she’d worn them. The short hems rode high on her thighs, displaying inches of golden skin, beautiful with the tiniest hint of dimples.

  Tolly put all the skinny girls to shame. Her curves were perfect, hourglass-shaped and the very definition of femininity. Sexy enough to make his teeth sweat.

  Their longstanding friendship kept him away from her. He also didn’t want to lose the contract with Harold. He was the only bar in a fifteen mile radius allowed to carry Harold’s brew, which guaranteed his success. Places in larger cities like Birmingham and Montgomery carried the stuff, but the locals in Montevallo visited Hog Heaven.

  But lately, even the threat of losing his contract with Harold or risking Tolly’s friendship didn’t seem enough of an incentive to stay away. Not at moments like this when she looked at him like…

  She turned and smiled.

  That. It undid him. He stayed where he was, several feet away from her, and crossed his arms. “We should talk.”

  “Don’t make this weird. The kiss doesn’t have to mean anything.” She leaned against the windowsill. With the storm behind her as a counterpoint, she became a force of nature. Wild. Untamable. “Blame the bourbon if you have to.”

  Fuck it. He was tired of fighting his attraction to her. “It wasn’t the bourbon. I wanted to kiss you.”

  “Oh.” She arched an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

  He dropped his arms and approached her. His wolf howled with excitement. Her scent, cinnamon and bourbon, mixed with the rain and created a maelstrom within him. “I’m saying I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “Is that so?”

  Her cocky attitude didn’t fool him. Feminine arousal lingered in the air. One sniff and he was done for. He wanted to fuck her while the storm raged outside, while the thunder shook the rafters, and lightning lit the sky.

  He had two choices. Either continue to ignore his body’s need for her and drive himself crazy, or give in and have a taste.

  Either way something had to change before he lost his mind.

  The answer was surprisingly easy to find.

  He’d have her. “You irritate me to no end, but I can’t get you out of my mind.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or a diss.”

  “Which do you want it to be?”

  She shoved away from the window and completed the distance between them. Toe to toe, she reached his chin. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “What do you think? I don’t wear these shorts for the grungy bikers that come here.”

  His cock jolted to attention. He quickly attempted to lighten the mood. “Not even Smokey?”

  “Definitely not Smokey.” Her voice lowered, becoming husky and seductive as hell. She touched his chest with a tentative hand. “I remember how you stared the first time you saw me wear them.”

  She was right. He had stared. He continued to stare. “I’d rather see you out of them.”

  She flexed her palm. “That can be arranged.”

  She stepped away and lowered her hands to her fly. He held his breath as she popped the button loose, unzipped, and shimmied off the shorts.

  Fuck! His wolf lunged forward, breaking his chain, and threatened to take over.

  Ty forced the beast under control and hooked his finger in the elastic lace covering her pussy, using the material to pull her forward. He delved his hand inside and found her damp and waiting.

  “Ty,” Tolly said with a breathy laugh. “You don’t believe in going slow, do you?”

  “Not when it’s something I want.” He inserted a finger in her wet channel and used her juices to ease his way.

  Tight. Hot.

  And all for him.

  The elastic band stretched until it snapped. The scrap of lace fluttered to the floor, revealing her to his gaze. He watched while he plied her damp sex, his fingers shiny with her arousal. Tolly moaned and widened her stance, allowing him to slip another finger inside.

  Without conscious thought, Ty swept her into his arms and strode to the bar. He kicked stools out of the way and plopped her onto the wooden counter, putting her in the perfect position. Tolly opened her thighs, and he got his first glimpse of her pussy. Pink and wet.

  Perfect.

  He smoothed his hand across the waxed flesh. “A Brazilian. Hmm.”

  Tolly gripped his wrist and guided his fingers down. “Don’t stop.”

  He chuckled and teased the tight opening. Easing two fingers inside, he delved deeper. Tolly rode his fingers like she’d ridden the bull, never slowing the pace or backing down.

  He added a third finger, stretching her in preparation for more. He’d been told he was a large guy, although he’d never compared himself to other men, and she was so tight. So wet.

  So fucking unbelievable.

  He lowered his head and nuzzled her before swiping his tongue along her clit. She jerked, forcing his fingers deeper. He repeated the action, tasting her sweet honey and going back for more until she cried out.

  “No more.”

  He lifted his head and pinned her arms to her side when she would’ve tried to shove him away. “I want to taste it when you cum. I want to feel you clench and shudder against my tongue until every drop is licked clean, then I’ll stop, but not one second before.”

  “Oh God.” Tolly dropped her head back. “You’re going to kill me.”

  He loosened his grip on her arms. “We do this my way the first time. After that, you can have anything you want.”

  She gasped as he licked her again. “This isn’t a onetime thing?”

  “If I have it my way, you won’t walk straight for a week. I’m going to fuck you all the ways I’ve wanted, in every hole if you’ll let me, and I’ll only stop when you beg me to.”

  “Holy shit. I never knew you were a closet freak.”

  He rewarded her with a slow, leisurely lick. “Pervert maybe.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “I figured you would be.” The fates would be unkind to make a woman who looked like her, who moved like she did, some kind of prude. “No more talking.”

  He licked her as he fucked her with his fingers. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, reveling in the gasps and moans she made. She tightened her thighs around his ears, and he knew she was close.

  He continued, jabbing his tongue inside as she came. Liquid dripped from her channel, and he licked it clean like he promised he would, savoring the sweet tanginess of her.

  “Ty,” Tolly cried out. Her thighs gripped him like a vise. If he’d been a lesser man, he would’ve panicked, but he enjoyed knowing he’d thrown her over the edge, forcing her to abandon any restrictions.

  He lifted the collar of his shirt and wiped his lips clean before pulling the T-shirt over his head. He shucked his boots and jeans and shoved his boxers to the floor.

  Tolly sat up and watched him with an avid gaze. She traced the curve of the droplet-shaped tattoo on his bicep. “Aw, shit. You’re better than any airbrushed Spartan.”

  He knew of her preference for muscle bound actors and flexed for her benefit. “Take off your shirt.”

  She slid the tank top over her head and tossed it aside. “Bra too?”

  “Hmm,” he said with a nod.

  She reached behind
and unfastened the black, satin bra. Her breasts spilled from the cups, luscious and full, with pink, pointed nipples. He tweaked one, and she groaned. He squeezed tighter, and her hips arched toward him.

  She liked pain.

  Interesting.

  “Climb down and turn around,” he ordered.

  She slid down from the bar and turned to press her belly against the lip of the counter. He enjoyed the sight of her there, splayed in the serving area, as he fetched a condom from his jeans and sheathed his cock. “Grasp the metal.”

  Tolly wrapped her hands around the metals bars and leaned forward. “Better?”

  “Much.” He stepped behind her and positioned his cock. Moisture coated his dick as he rammed forward, burying himself inside her.

  Tolly lifted on her tiptoes and squeezed her hands until the knuckles turned white. “More.”

  He thrust harder inside her, unable to prevent his animal from bursting forth. Although he resisted the shift, his vision altered, his sense of smell and touch becoming more sensitive than usual.

  Mine, his wolf chanted as Ty buried himself into her over and over again.

  Mine.

  Tolly cried out, her spine arching and bringing her shoulders to his chest. The new position made it difficult for him to thrust, but he bent his knees and surged upward. His cock throbbed, and he shot his load while her pussy still spasmed.

  Tolly slumped forward, and he followed her down, cradling her body in his arms to protect her from the hard countertop. He pressed his cheek to her damp back and inhaled her sweet scent.

  Jesus what had he done? Not that he regretted it.

  Not one single, soul-stirring moment.

  * * *

  Shit.

  Goddamn it.

  Fuck!

  Tolly ran through every curse word she could think of in the English language.

  She’d known Ty would be a good lay, but he’d made her come twice in one night, minutes apart. She’d never had multiple orgasms, not even with BOB.

  Bloody hell.

  She added another curse to her ever-growing list. Apparently he’d fucked her British.

  On wobbly knees, she straightened and turned to face him. “Hey.”