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“Lady, I am an observer of every person in my bar. I see, I listen, I dole out advice… night after night. And that boy was staring. At you. Like it was Christmas morning and you were wrapped in a goddamn bow.” He steps up behind me, grinding on me again as he helps me line up the shot.
I’m impressed at his confidence. He hasn’t backed down, or run away scared. I’ve known more than my share of men who are intimidated by my no fucks given attitude. I guess the fact I turn into a puddle of goo every time I see him helps round off my edges a little.
“So what do I do?” Kenzie gnaws on her lip, her face still pink.
“Figure out what you want and go for it.” I score. Or whatever it’s called when you sink a ball into the hole, squealing with delight that I finally scored one. Dropping the cue on the table, I spin to face the hunk whose body heat is warming my spine.
The moment stretches out between us like Route 66 at golden hour, charged, shimmering and full of anticipation and promise. Smacking both of my palms on his face, I jerk him toward me, and lay one on him.
CHAPTER2
Thor
When my handshit the base of Addison’s spine and slide up toward her shoulders, I expect resistance. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and considering I barely know her, those vibes are pretty strong.
But when her body softens, her head tilts back, and her lips part, it’s clear she’s not going to fight this.
Thank fuck.
The kiss isn’t frantic and sloppy as I expected. But it’s not soft, or slow either. There’s an undercurrent of hunger and promise with each swipe of her tongue against mine. She wants me, and she’s not afraid of me knowing it.
That’s hot as hell.
In the kink world, many women are sexually empowered, open, and free to express themselves however they choose. It’s kind of the whole point: be who you are, embrace your fantasies, and fuck, as often and wholeheartedly as you like. With as many partners as you want—as long as it’s consensual of course.
I haven’t seen Addison around the club more than a few times with her friends. I live and breathe the scene. If she was kinky, surely I’d know about it, right?
She lives fairly close to me, I’ve seen her a few times at my local cafe Brew’d Awakening, but this is the first time I’ve seen her on a night out while I wasn’t working the bar at Protocol.
I try to stay away from vanilla people. It’s like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I am who I am, I know what I like and don’t, and I don’t generally have the time or patience to train someone who is vanilla into the lifestyle.
At work, they’re at least kink-curious. Was Addison at the club because she’s kink-curious? It wasn’t because her friends dragged her along for the ride, that’s for sure. Though from the sounds of it poor Kenzie got pulled into Protocol without knowing what it was.
I don’t do relationships, but I take pride in knowing the most beautiful kinky women in Minnesota. If she’s kinky and I had no idea... well, my ego might take a ding because I’ve wanted her from the moment I saw her. Maybe she’s kink aware, kink curious, perhaps even kink... fearful?
Long, wavy auburn hair, green eyes that sometimes appear gray in different light—but only if you’re paying attention—a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. She has tits I want to bury my face—and other body parts—between, and a plush ass I’d love to leave a handprint or two on. She’s captivating. If I had the honor, I’d worship her like the queen she very clearly is.
The whimper that escapes her as my tongue caresses hers makes me painfully hard. She softens in my arms. Instead of the confrontational kiss I expected from the spunky redhead, she lets me lead, submitting to me through her kiss. It’s heady, and addictive, and I want more. No, I need more.
When our kiss finally ends, she looks up at me with those wide, green-gray eyes and has the audacity to bite down on her swollen lip. Her bright lipstick hasn’t smudged at all. That’s some pretty damn good staying power. It should be smeared all over her face. And mine. If I was less of a gentlemen I might permit my thoughts to wonder to other body parts that could be smeared with her lipstick, too.
“Wow.” Her chest heaves with effort, her breasts brushing against me with every labored inhale and exhale.
It’s taking all I have not to bend her over this pool table and fuck her senseless. While exhibitionism is my jam, I have no idea what makes her blood burn and her clit pulse so rapidly she’d come on demand for me.
At least not yet.
I’d like to, though.
Fuck. I’d really like to.
“This isn’t over.” I damn near growl in her ear. Glancing at the graveyard of margarita glasses on their table, I hedge my bets. “But if you want a good fucking tonight, Addison. I suggest you slow down on the tequila.”
I half expect her to claw my eyes out with those perfectly manicured, match-her-eyes nails. Or tell me to go fuck myself with a rusty nail. Those not in the lifestyle don’t generally understand the concept of safe, sane, and consensual sexual relations. They don’t care if they’re drunk or not. But I care.
Consent isn’t something I fuck around with. And I won’t sleep with someone if their inhibitions are influenced by alcohol. It’s a standard rule for Slade and any of the house doms he hires for the club.
But instead of shredding my balls from my body, her breath hitches, and she pinches the lip between her teeth a little harder before releasing it. “Yes,Sir.”
