by Alexis Angel
“Then, I’ll run my lips down your naked chest,” Kirk whispers, and I press the phone against my ear harder, his deep baritone voice blanketing my mind, “and I’ll push your wet thong down your legs with my teeth…”
See? Just like I told you; it's always interesting with him. Even when he has nothing but words at his disposal, he always makes me hot and bothered.
“Mmm, that sounds good…” I half-whisper, half-moan, two of my fingers working steadily on my clit. I’m lying down on my couch, completely naked as I imagine Kirk’s perfect naked body.
Yeah, it’s been like this every day; we have sex whenever we’re together, and whenever we’re apart… Well, we always find a way.
“I wouldn’t mind having a taste of that pussy right now, Em,” he continues, each word of his that reaches me making my body temperature raise. “I bet you’re soaking wet, aren’t you?”
“What do you think?” I ask him with a slight laugh. Oh, if only he knew exactly how wet I am right now… My juices are dripping down my thighs in buckets, and I even had to put a towel underneath me so that I wouldn’t ruin my couch.
“Oh, I’m just thinking that I’m very hard right now… God, how I wish I was there. I can’t get enough of that body of yours…”
“Mm… I like that. I'll never get tired of hearing that,” I continue to say, sliding one finger inside my pussy as I keep on working my clit with my thumb. As I work on my pussy, I allow images on Kirk's naked body to flood my mind, each one better than the last.
“I know that… and I also know that you're about to come.”
“How do —?’ I start to moan, but then a wave of heat takes over my body. My whole body tenses up and my pussy stars cramping up around my finger.
“Come for me…” he whispers, the way he lowers his voice making my skin prickle, and I lose all control. Pleasure bursts inside me like a nuclear bomb, and my eyes roll in their orbits as every single muscle in my body starts to spasm and twitch.
“God!” I cry out, pushing the words through my gritted teeth. Sprawled back on the couch, I take long deep breaths as my mind bounces back from ecstasy. Why can't all phone calls be like this?
“See? We don't even need to be together for me to make you come,” he laughs and, even though he can't see me now, I can't help but smile.
“But it's so much better when you're here… Why don't you come over, Kirk? I think I know of a few things we can do to pass the time… And you can stay the night too,” I purr, wanting to wake up next time him in the morning. It used to be an awkward thing, but now it's one of my favorite things in the whole world. The waking up part and the night before, of course.
“Is that so?” he asks me playfully.
“That's exactly so. I need my man in my bed.”
“If I'm your man,” he replies, “I guess that makes you my woman, doesn't it?”
“Does that makes us… girlfriend and boyfriend?” I can't help but asked him, realizing that it's exactly what we are: a couple.
“I think it does,” he laughs; a happy laugh, one that tells me how he feels about these two words. “But if that’s so, I want to take another step.”
“Another step?”
“Yeah, I want you to come over this weekend…”
“I’m always up for that.”
“I’m talking about a barbecue I’m having, Em. And my family and friends will be there too,” he adds, a note of hesitancy in his voice. So that’s the next step he’s talking about — friends and family.
“So… You want me to meet your family? And your friends?” That's good isn't it? It means things are getting serious. But if so, why do I feel so nervous about it?
“I do… And don't worry about it, they'll love you, Em.”
“Okay, okay… I'm sold. I'll take that next step,” I chuckle, throwing my head back against the armrest of the couch and closing my eyes. I'm in a relationship, a serious one! Ah, how things change.
“I love you, Em. You're my everything.”
“I love you too… Now hurry up; I need you in my bed. Right now.”
“I'm on my way.”
Ah, happiness!
Note From The Author:
And we’re not done yet, babe! What happens when Alexis…err Natalie gets to the barbecue? What happens when she gets so nervous that she starts drinking? Will this small slip of a girl in the La Perla lace and Christian Louboutins who only drinks wine be able to handle her liquor? And what will WineBar think afterwards? This is not a cliffhanger, but a promise that more story is to come in the book Dirty Lil’ Angels (coming in October 5, 2017)!
Chapter 36
Naughty Angel Newsletter
So I'm just gonna go meet some of WineBar's friends
Because babes, we should all be focused on WineBar right now, because it's his barbecue that I'm going to. I'm taking a bottle of Grey Goose lol.
But the weirdest thing. earlier today WineBar called.
"Hey," he said.
"Hiiiiii," I replied back, and since it was just me in my kitchen talking to him I sorta touched myself because I was thinking of like all the dirty things he did to me last time ya know?
"Just gotta ask if you're gonna be coming today?" he asked me.
"Yup. Around 5 pm, right?" I replied back. No way I was gonna miss this barbecue.
"Yeah, hey listen, what are you gonna be wearing?" he asked me.
"Why?" I asked back. "What's wrong?"
Pause.
"Well, are you gonna wear anything really sexy?" he asked me. "Just because there's gonna be like kids and shit there."
Oh my God. So now I dress too sexy for kids?
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Well, my brother is gonna be there too," he says to me.
Okay. I can understand that. Like if he has family that might show up he doesn't want me to look like a ho. And he really is gonna meet me with his family? OMG! We are so a happily ever after couple!
But like, some warning here? I was gonna wear short shorts and a t-shirt FYI, but after listening to him go off on how his brother is going to divinity school I'm thinking sundress?
Is he gonna propose? Is he gonna introduce me as his girlfriend?
Let me know what you think about WineBar and the sexy clothes comment and am I reading too much into it? I'll let you know how it goes anyways. You know how to reach me. [email protected].
Hugs and kisses and lots of love!
Alexis
Part 2
Chapter 37
Kirk
You would think that a guy like me has his shit together. I own and run a hugely successful chain of bars in one of the most competitive and oversaturated markets in the world. I live comfortably in one of the most expensive cities in the country—in Russian fucking Hill no less.
It’s no mistake I live this life. Everything I have is built on a bedrock of hard work, tenacity, and focus.
Yeah, I’m fucking proud of it. I have everything that I could ever want. At least, I should feel that way.
You would also think at this point I’d be past puppy-love crushes and ready to approach dating the way I approach everything else—like a rational, intelligent adult who fucking crushes everything I go after.
But every time I think about Emily, which is a lot, I feel like I’m in eighth grade all over again. My heart picks up pace, my stomach feels like it’s spinning, and I’m totally thrown off balance.
I mean, what the fuck? I’m a grown-ass man who can have anyone he wants with a snap of my fingers.
And then came Emily.
Two weeks, give or take a few days, is apparently all it takes for my sex-life-slash-love-life to go sideways in the best way possible.
The Bay Area attracts some of hottest women in the world. And in my line of work, I see plenty of them. Every fucking night.
You become numb to it after a while, and you learn to compartmentalize. Dating is dating, and work is separate. That’s one of those long–held,
self-inflicted rules that I now realize is bullshit.
Emily walking into the bar—and my life—has forced me to tear down a lot of these restrictions and assumptions. It all happened so suddenly that I finally understand what all that Cupid’s arrow shit is all about.
The arrow pierces fast, starting in this case with the sting of pure testosterone-fueled lust. That feeling’s still there, weeks later.
Emily entering the bar like a golden-haired goddess, her sexy-as-fuck body, her honeyed voice and laugh—all combining to give my cock a hell of a time.
Like really, I can feel the blood rushing there now just thinking about her while I’m busy trying to choose a shirt from my closet.
Emily’s allure is proving to be the rare thing that can distract me during a busy night at the bar. Now it’s also taking me out of my daily life.
For fuck’s sake, if I can’t even focus on getting dressed, I know that this must be for real.
I usually can’t fucking stand getting diverted from my routine for any reason. But now, just the thought of the last couple weeks and what the future might bring is making me reconsider everything that came before Em.
I walk over to my bed and get the idea—for like the first time ever—to just lie down and think for a few minutes. I do plenty of thinking and rumination every day, but I never just idly stare at the ceiling. There’s too much to do for that shit.
But these thoughts need my full attention. Emily deserves my full attention.
I look back on the last few weeks with Emily. I got to know her and revealed more about myself than I even wanted. Very few of my customers, even regulars, know that I own the establishment where they always see me working.
Like, this girl just fucking does something to me that makes me act in ways I never have before.
My cock is now insanely hard. Like, ready to rip through the fabric of my boxer briefs kind of hard. Fuck, see what I mean?
This girl…
I mean, the time we’ve been spending with our clothes off, in my office, and at the W, and on this very bed. And here’s the kicker: I might sound crazy as fuck, but it’s not the mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex that’s on my mind as I wrap my fist around my cock.
Nope. I’m thinking about commitment. Yes, really.
To Emily, I’m still WineBar.
I’m Kirk, but also still WineBar. That’s her association with me—a dude who works at the wine bar. And it makes even more sense now that she knows I own the damn place.
I’m not special in this way she gives nicknames. There’s also Freeway.
Care to guess where she met him? Real romantic, I know.
But with a woman like Emily, there’s always some competition. Most of the time, competition means nothing to me. Because fuck that.
I can blow any competition right out of the fucking water, if that’s what I want. For me, it’s usually the easiest thing in the whole goddamn world.
The thing is, this isn’t my usual life anymore. Suddenly, I care, and that complicates things. I don’t know what to do with that.
Fucking? I’m your guy.
Relationships? Not so much.
Until her.
So here I am faced with what’s quickly becoming the usual for me these days—the need for a quick wank before I get on with my day. I won’t be good for anything until I get her out of my system, at least temporarily. I know this from experience.
But even before I take care of my cock that’s demanding attention, I need to figure out what to do next. We both effectively told Freeway to fuck off, and now I want to share everything with Emily.
That’s another first for me. I want to bring her in closer—as in I’m starting to think she could be the one. So much so that I want her to meet my family.
If things go the way I think they should, we’re going to have to meet each other’s families sooner or later anyway. Why not now?
I know people run from that shit like the fucking plague, but I want to introduce her to my parents.
Yeah, you heard me right. I’m now officially living in a world that’s been turned on its fucking head.
And still, I can’t get enough of her. It seems like Emily may feel hesitant about it, but I need to figure out how to take that step.
But first, I need to take care of this raging hard-on.
I grab my throbbing cock and pull it up out of the elastic of my boxer briefs. A mental vision of Emily’s smile that first night at the bar flashes through my head. Okay, that’s a decent start.
I wrap my fist tighter around my pulsing shaft.
It feels fucking amazing, and I delve right into some graphic memories. It doesn’t take long. Emily and her sexy little body do it for me every time.
I feel my balls tighten, and the tingle starts at the base of my spine. And then I’m cumming, shooting a massive load. Jet after jet of hot sticky cum goes everywhere as my cock throbs with the release.
“Fuck,” I groan. This girl has me so fucking horny I can barely function anymore.
As I make my way to the shower, I find myself saying the word before even thinking it: “Barbecue.”
Yeah, that’s right. This guy’s ready to do this thing.
It’s time to introduce Em to the family. And what better way than a good old-fashioned family barbecue? Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Chapter 38
Emily
This feeling is weird as fuck. I’m staring out my window with, like, awe and wonder or something crazy. The view is nothing new to me, but it sure looks perfect right now.
Unlike this morning, there’s no fog to speak of, and the afternoon sun is bathing the city in a magical auburn glow.
But yeah, it’s a weird feeling. The closest thing I can think of—and it’s still a million miles from coming close to this—is what it’s like finishing up a novel. That feeling is pretty fucking awesome, but it’s not even like on the same planet as what I feel like today.
With big writing projects, there’s a boundless sense of urgency from start to finish. Even with chunks of real life thrown in, those long and lonely nights of work can sometimes leave you feeling more like a hermit in rumpled pajamas and a messy bun than some sexy literary queen of smut badass.
All those feelings suddenly evaporating with the completion of a manuscript is, well, nice, I guess, along with the reward of knowing that you get to write this stuff for a living. It can even be wonderful sometimes.
Nothing, however, can compare to what today feels like. That’s why this feeling is so strange—it’s genuinely new to me. I realize this when I try to think of a close analogy.
Maybe it’s a kid finding out that school is closed for the day due to a blizzard? Looking at the window and thinking about endless possibilities—that’s sort of close, yet not close at all.
A kid on the last day of school before summer vacation, maybe? Nah.
How about a kid on Christmas morning? I do have a warm, satisfied feeling. It’s not holiday cheer, though; it’s more like a love-drunk, sex-sated buzz that I never want to go away.
It’s like finding out the rest of your life is Christmas morning. It feels so good that there must be a catch.
So what’s the catch? I am, apparently.
I finally turn away from the window. I’m glowing like the sun outside. When you hear words like hunk or dreamy, they can seem ridiculous and cliché—that is, until you see an actual dreamy hunk like WineBar.
There are a few other ways to describe the fuckably hot entrepreneur with a twelve-inch cock straight out of the collective, horny imaginations of romance fans the world over.
Kirk is better than any fantasy, though. The man is somehow real, and he loves the fuck out of me.
At this point, I can say the feeling is mutual. It really is like Christmas morning—but like times a million.
I walk toward my bedroom, and it feels like I’m floating on the fucking air. Like, what is this all about? I write about this stuff, but I don’t think I
’ve ever truly experienced it—not like this.
I need to take a look at my wardrobe and find something sexy to change into for the evening ahead. I don’t have anything specific lined up, but going out with only vague plans seems to be serving me well these days. I just have to remember: more wine bars and less freeways.
Joking, of course. There’s only one WineBar, and I certainly fucking hope that there’s only one Freeway. Joking again.
I’m sure there’s somebody out there for a tall, handsome luxury sedan owner who just happens to have a fetish for wearing lacy women’s lingerie when he feels sexy.
But that somebody sure as fuck isn’t me right now. Or ever, really, especially with WineBar fully in the picture now.
I keep finding myself thinking about the words love drunk.
What I’m supposed to be doing is trying to find something hot to wear tonight. What I’m actually doing, now that I’m in my bedroom, is standing like a dumb, drunk statue.
I’m stuck in my head, just thinking about my new reality. I’m sure I have a stupid smile plastered on my face too.
But why isn’t WineBar calling me? What is he doing tonight that makes him so special?
Is he working? Whatever.
As if he somehow has a telepathic link straight into my thoughts, my phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. It has to be him, and like I’m already trained with some Pavlovian response or some shit, my thong is instantly soaked.
He’s a keeper, alright.
I finally make it to my phone. Fuck, it’s time to stop that vibrating already. It’s only teasing my already sex-clouded brain.
Suddenly, I’m anxious and nervous. My mouth is dry. What the fuck is that about?
Is this love? If so, I guess I’ll take it.
I pick up the phone. Here we go.
“WineBar.” I put my hand on my hip and purse my lips, hoping he can feel it right through the phone. “Kirk, what took you so long to call?”
