by Alexis Angel
Table of Contents
WineBar
Description
Dedication
Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
Dirty Lil’ Angels
A Note From Alexis
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Part 2
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
A Special Treat from the Author
Head Hunter
Single TV Dad
Python
Alicia Vs. Billionaire
Dirty Daddy
DILF
Hit & Run
Naughty Angel Letters
WineBar
The Alexis Angel Tales
By Alexis Angel
Copyright 2017 by Naughty Angel Publishing
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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Description
This is the story of WineBar, ripped straight from Alexis’ newlsetter. Do ya feel naughty, angels?
Dedication
Dedicated to every Naughty Angel in Sexy Heaven.
Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
Alexis Angel
36 Inches
Cunning Linguist
Single TV Dad
Sevensome
Head Hunter
Blessed
Offense & Defense
Princely Passions
Lust Muscle
The Biggest Licker
Cindersmellya
100 Days
24 Inches
Stories From The 6 Train
Mr. President
Dirty Daddy
D.I.L.F.
12 Inches
Python
Wicked Lil’ Brat
Red & Blue
Jailbait
Abby Angel
Hit & Run
Boxers & Briefs
Profit & Lace
Mergers & Acquisitions
Woman of the House
Men of the House
Dark Angel
Seven Deadly Sinners
Three Beasts
Murder/Love
Hostile Work Environment
B.I.L.F.
Dr. Single Dad
Two Beasts
Buyer’s Market
Gambling For the Virgin
The Virgin Market
Dirty Lil’ Angels
Hi ladies!
If you’re like me, once you finish, you’re not going to want the story to end!
To receive exclusive sneak peeks, (before anyone else!), bonus content not seen anywhere else, giveaways, and tons more swag, visit me and my Naughty Angels on Facebook at Dirty Lil’ Angels.
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:)
Kisses!
Alexis
A Note From Alexis
Hey babes! So the newsletter tells all the truth babes but I had fun with this story and that's why some things might not match up perfectly. I hope you enjoy this novel and LOL remember to subscribe to the Alexis Angel Newsletter to make sure you get all the real deets!!
Part 1
Chapter 1
Emily
My cramped fingers fly over the keyboard at warp speed, and a wave of excitement and relief washes over me as I type the two final words on the manuscript: The End.
“Fucking finally!” I whisper to myself, leaning back in my chair and stretching my arms. Finishing this novel, 12 Inches, has been a true marathon, but I’ve finished it just in time.
Getting up from my seat, I leave my home office and amble out to my living room. “Ugh,” I groan as I draw the curtains back, the orange glow of the setting sun hitting me straight in the face. I’ve been writing for so long that I lost all track of time; that’s what happens when you get up at five in the morning and work like a woman possessed. Yeah babe, a writer’s life doesn’t mean you spend your day sitting at a café, sipping on coffee and looking stylish and hot all the time. More often than not, it means that you’re a night owl that spends the day in her pajamas, hair tied up in a bun. Sometimes you kinda even forget to wear pants.
But not everything’s bad: it’s only 7pm, so I guess there’s still some time left for a little celebration. Picking my phone up from the coffee table in the middle of the living room, I dial up Lana’s number and put the phone up against my ear.
“Please, please—tell me you’re done,” she cries out the moment she picks up, her voice fraught with anxiety. That’s Lana, always on the verge of a mental breakdown whenever I’m close to missing a deadline.
“When have I ever let you down, Lana? The final chapter’s done, and I’ve already emailed it out to you,” I tell her, a smug smile on my face. Some writers hate deadlines, but I thrive on them. When time starts growing short, that’s when I become a productive demon from hell.
“Thank God,” she sighs, anxiety being replaced by relief. “I’ll send the manuscript out to our editor, then. I guess we’re done, uh?”
“Yup, we’re done,” I chirp happily, sitting down on my couch and propping up my feet on the coffee table. “What do you say we go out for dinner? Or, even better, for drinks? A little celebration is in order, don’t you think?”
“Ah, I don’t know, Em…” She mumbles and, even though I can’t see her, I know she’s playing with a lock of hair as she ponders her next words. “I was thinking of having dinner with Michael, and —”
“Oh, come on! Don’t ditch your business partner like that!” I protest with a bright laugh, fully knowing that I can sway her easily. You see, Lana isn’t just my writing partner; she’s also my best friend. I so love her.
We met in college and hit it off straight away. It was as if we were two sisters separated at birth, even our literary tastes matched. And, most impo
rtant of all, we both enjoyed writing. We left college with lofty dreams of becoming writers, and we decided to partner up; much to our surprise, the starving writer phase only lasted for two years or so.
We really hit a stride once we published a few romance novels, and now we’re well off enough to write full-time. In fact, the writing is awesome. Top 100 in the Rainforest.com store, baby! Totally blows our minds that we’re able to do what we dream about. Like go to work every day and write smut. It’s so fulfilling. It’s so fun. It gets you so wet. It’s amazing. Just look at Lana: even though she’s a responsible adult, married and with one kid, little Savannah, she still writes full-time. We’re living the dream, I guess.
“I don’t know…” she repeats, but I know that, unconsciously, she’s begging me to convince her. Which of course, is exactly what I do.
“It’s not up for debate, Lana,” I tell her. “We’re going out tonight, come hell or high water. Is Michael home tonight?”
“Yeah, he is… He can look after Savannah,” she sighs. “Where do ya wanna go? Please, no clubs, I’m too old for that.”
“You’re as old as I am,” I protest but, truth be told, I haven’t been in the mood for clubbing in some time now. “Okay, no clubs. Let’s go somewhere fancy, what do you say?”
“Fancy sounds good.”
“So…” I start, closing my eyes and trying to think of a place where we can go to get a nice buzz going. Most of the places Lana and I enjoy usually require a reservation, and it’s a bit late for that. But there’s still one option left on the table.
Jumping up to my feet, I cross my living room in three wide strides and go straight toward the window. Looking down, I let my gaze wander to the new wine bar that has opened across the street. Getting wasted at a walking distance from my place? Sounds about perfect.
“Meet me at my place,” I tell her, “there’s a new place just across the street, and it looks fancy enough… Even for someone like you, with such an exquisite taste for fanciness,” I tease her, and I can almost see her frown.
“Okay, okay…” she laughs. “I’ll meet you at your place. You’re not luring me into a trap, are you?”
“No, don’t worry. It’s not a club, Lana. It’s just a wine bar,” I continue, narrowing my eyes and trying to see through the windows of the bar below. Even though the place has been open for just a few weeks now, a lot of people have already started flocking to it—a good omen, I guess.
“Wine,” she whispers, “that sounds good. I’m in the mood for some wine, yeah.”
“Then it’s a deal! Meet me at… eight?”
“Eight, then. See ya, Em.”
“See ya!”
Checking my wristwatch to see how much time I have left to doll myself up, I then head straight to the bathroom and undress. I draw myself a nice warm bath and lay back on the tub, mentally going through my drawer and picking a nice revealing dress to wear tonight.
You see, unlike Lana, I still haven’t entered that dreaded ‘responsible adult’ phase. No, I’m still a little girl at heart; I enjoy living in the fastlane. Which, as you’ve probably guessed by now, also means that I’m still on the hunt for Mr. Right… or Mr. Wrong, for that matter.
But after finishing a novel, right now?
I’m just looking for Mr. Tonight.
Chapter 2
Kirk
“Holy shit! I need to go, right now!” Andrew says, staring at his phone with bulging eyes. Grabbing the towel draped over his shoulder, he throws it over the counter, looking from me to his phone over and over again.
“Now? You just got here,” I tell him, checking the time on my wristwatch. Andrew was supposed to take over the night shift today but, judging by the expression on his face, that’s not going to happen. “Is it Joan?”
I mean, I just came to check the fucking inventory for the bar. Am I going to be working tonight?
Fuck.
“Yeah, it’s Joan. It’s—it’s happening now,” he stammers, the anxiety on his face almost palpable. “I need to go,” he repeats, waiting for me to give him the go-ahead.
“What are you waiting for then? Just get going, I’ll take care of things tonight.” I pat him on the shoulder and give him a smile. “Good luck, man. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, boss,” he mutters, heading for the exit so fast he almost knocks down a table on the way out. So much for my free night, huh? But it’s not like I could’ve done otherwise; Andrew’s wife is having a baby, and covering for him is the least I can do. And, it’s not like I mind; I spend so much time working behind the scenes that I always relish the chance to be behind the counter.
You see, you might think that entrepreneurs do nothing but fly from city to city first class, and drive their sports cars around, but that’s not exactly true. More often than not, true entrepreneurs spend their days working their fucking ass off. Trust me, I know; with almost a dozen bars spread all over the city, I know what it’s like to not have enough time in the day. Sure, it feels good to watch my bank account grow at the end of the month, but it’s not like I have the time to go around spending that money.
“Alright, let’s do this,” I whisper, walking behind the counter and looking around the main room. It seems that I’ve made the right decision when I opened this winebar at this location; more often than not, the place is always completely packed. Lucky for me, I have four more employees working the night shift to help out, or else I’d be in for a night of pain.
“I’ll take table four,” I tell Susan, one of my waitresses, as I notice the two women sitting by themselves at one of the corner tables. Now, I could lie and tell you that I’m just taking care of business, but it’s more than that; these girls, there’s something about them. They’re both in their mid to late-twenties, they look good and… Well, I really can’t help myself when it comes to pretty women.
Picking a bottle of red from the shelves, a nice 2008 Barolo, I make my way toward their table confidently, taking a pair of crystal glasses in a tray.
“Good evening,” I greet them politely, and they turn to me. That’s when I see her, and I mean, really see her. Silky blonde hair, heartbreaking smile, and a figure worth dying for… Jesus Christ.
“Good evening,” they say at the same time, but I’m so dazed by the blonde woman that I barely hear their words. To be honest with you, I barely notice the other woman; she has a ring on her finger, and married women really aren’t my thing.
I fucking want her. Oh, I want her bad, I think to myself, my brain already fast at work, trying to line up the next words that’ll come out of my mouth. You only have one shot at making a good first impression, after all.
And I want to do such fucking nasty things to her.
“Giacomo Grinaldi, a classy Barolo for two classy ladies,” I tell them, showing them the bottle and allowing them to scan the label. “What do you say?”
“You seem like you know your stuff,” the blonde girl tells me, and her voice feels like a shot of adrenaline. Even though I should be acting like a professional right now, I can’t help but imagine how that voice would sound when moaning out my name.
“He sure does,” her friend agrees, and her tone of voice leaves no room for doubt: I made a good first impression.
“Emily,” the blonde one introduces herself, offering me her hand. I take it in mine, a shiver going down my spine as I feel the tenderness of her small fingers. The air around us seems to grow electric, and it feels as if my heart has stopped beating inside my chest. “And this is Lana,” she says, waving at her friend.
“Nice meeting you, ladies. I hope you enjoy your wine,” I say, pouring each of them a glass and leaving the bottle on the table. Snapping my heels together, I’m almost ready to march back to the counter when Lana stops me.
“You didn’t tell us your name,” she says with a chuckle, and I turn around so that I’m facing the table again.
“The name’s Kirk, and I’m at your service,” I say, introducing myself
with an exaggerated bow. That gets a laugh out of them. I should be walking back to the counter already, but I simply can’t get my feet to start moving.
“At our service… I like that,” Emily laughs, and her crystal clear voice stirs something inside me again. I feel my cock twitching inside my pants as I look at her, the way her breasts push against the fabric of her dress drawing my gaze in… Oh, fuck, how the hell am I supposed to get any work done with a woman like this around?
“Does that mean you’ll do anything we want?” Lana asks me, a devilish smile on her lips. She’s flirting with me, and she’s doing it on behalf of her single friend.
“Anything you want,” I grin, locking my eyes with Emily’s. “I’m your humble bartender for the night,” I tell them, my instincts kicking in and preventing me from revealing that I’m the owner of the bar. My past dealings with golddiggers have taught me that keeping my guard up is always a wise move.
Without waiting for their reply, I give them one more exaggerated bow and then force myself to move. I walk back to the counter, Emily’s heart-melting smile imprinted on my mind.
I spend the next hour trying to focus on all other tables and, thankfully, there’s enough work to keep me busy. Still, I can’t help but glance at table four every once in awhile.
I gotta do something, I think to myself as I realize Emily and her friend are almost done with their bottle of wine; soon enough they’ll be ready to leave, and I can’t let Emily go without at least grabbing her phone number.
As if they can read my mind, Lana shoots one hand up in the air and waves at me. “Check, please!” she asks, and I march back to their table dutifully, carrying their bill on a silver tray.
“Already leaving?” I ask them, and Lana’s answer comes fast.
“I’m leaving… But I think Emily here still wants another glass of wine,” she tells me with a devilish chuckle, getting up to her feet and clutching her purse to her chest. Throwing one last smile at Emily, she then walks past me and out of the door.
“Well… your friend was in quite a hurry,” I tell Emily, fully knowing that the two of them spent the whole time talking about me. The way Lana bolted out of the bar, it really left no room for doubts; she’s trying to set me up with Emily… And, oh yeah, I’m perfectly fucking happy with it.
