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Chapter Twelve
Conor
My cock was gettingsome crazy attention.
What a fucking crazy sex dream, I thought as I started to come to. My book mentioned I may have sex dreams which I thought was fucking bogus. Mia, on the other hand, oh yeah, she was having some crazy sex dreams, but this was a first for me.
Not only could I imagine Mia’s hands rubbing up and down my cock, moving my zipper lower over the hardening length, but I could fucking feel that shit.
I groaned and shifted, trying to fully wake up, when a giggle that wasn’t Mia sounded in the room.
My eyes snapped open, my booted feet pushed my chair back as far as I could, and I searched frantically for the intrusion.
Sitting where my feet had been by the desk, was one of our blonde regulars.
She smiled wide up at me. “Hey, Conor. You were so exhausted behind the bar today, I thought I’d give you a little…pick me up.”
My heart was pounding, my hands on the arm rests of my chair. My body was fucking paralyzed, trying to figure out what the hell to do. I glanced down and saw my cock nearly completely out of my pants and just as I went to tuck myself in, just as I was going to stand up and order her out of the room…
My office door opened.
And Mia stood there.
Her face fucking fell, and it was a fucking punch to the gut. I thought I was paralyzed before? Everything fucking stood still right then.
I lost my breath, my heart was three times too big for my chest, and the erection I was sporting, the one I was sporting from thoughts of Mia, quickly deflated.
And then Mia turned on her heel, and my world spun into fast forward.
I tucked myself back into my pants quickly, not fucking paying attention to much of anything when I zipped, damn near zipping my fucking cock in the process. Fucking A, that shit hurt!
But it was nothing, fucking nothing, compared to the thought that everything I was working for this last month was about to just…
Go poof.
“You’re not fucking welcome here,” I issued to the blonde as I stormed out of the office. She just fucking stood there like a Goddamn doll, not caring about a damn thing.
Fuck.
I should have figured something like this was gonna to happen. I had a fucking reputation! Sooner or later, it was going to get around that I wasn’t fucking sleeping around anymore. God-fucking-damn.
I peeled around the corner as Mia pushed through the swinging door separating the kitchen from the bar. I ran the length of the kitchen, narrowly dodging my weekend cook at the fryer, and ran through the swinging doors.
“Mia!”
She was close to the door.
If she got through that door, if she got to her car…
Shit, I couldn’t think like that.
“Mia!” I lengthened my stride, reaching her just as she got to the front door. I slapped my hand over where the door and jamb met, and put my other hand on her hip.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” she yelled, twirling around on me. Her yell was hysterical and before I looked into those whiskey eyes I was learning to enjoy so damn much, I knew, I fucking knew, they were going to be filled with tears. And these ones wouldn’t be due to pregnancy hormones.
“You were late, so I thought I’d check on you. I should have figured you couldn’t hold up on your end of the deal. How long, Conor? Huh? How long?” Her words were watery and she refused to look at me, instead looking clear to the side toward the back of the bar where our dart boards were set up.
I took her face in my hands and bent down to her level, forcing her to look at me. When she still refused to move her eyes, I leaned over, blocking her gaze. “Listen to me, Mia.” My voice was low, quiet, almost a whisper, but the desperation was more than clear. “I didn’t do anything.”
