Our lips meet again. I help him shrug out of his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. My hands go to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, finally getting to touch what I’ve been thinking about all night. Warm skin stretched over muscle. I stare for a second becauseJesus Christ. I knew he was built, but this is ridiculous. Abs you could do laundry on. A chest so broad my hands look small against it. Faded tan lines from a jersey. Thick veins disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. He’s a goddamn sculpture.
“See something you like?” He flexes a little, showing off.
“Shut up.” I lean in, tracing those tan lines with my tongue, feeling the muscles jump under my touch. “You know damn well you’re hot.”
“Not as hot as you.” He pulls my shirt over my head, and we’re chest to chest, skin to skin. The warmth of him against me quiets my brain for the first time all night. No more overthinking. No more questioning what this means. Just his heartbeat against my chest. The calluses on his hands as he explores my back. The hard press of his cock against mine through our jeans.
“I meant what I said,” I breathe out as he sucks a mark into my skin. “About bending me over the bar.”
“Yeah?” He looks up, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. He backs me up until the wood presses into my lower back, then spins me around so I’m facing it. His hips roll forward, grinding his bulge against my ass. “This what you had in mind?”
“Just like that.” I brace my hands on the sticky surface. I’ve wiped this bar down a thousand times, poured countless drinks, watched endless strangers lean on it. Never thought I’d be bent over it like this, offering myself up. But here I am, spreading my legs wider, pushing my ass back against him.
He makes quick work of my jeans, yanking them down along with my boxers. The air is cool on my bare skin. I hear the clink of his belt, the thud of denim hitting the floor. Then he’s back against me, nothing between us this time.
“Not sure you know what you’re asking for,” he murmurs, his cock nudging at my hole.
“You said it yourself.” I push back against him. “I’m reckless.”
“Hold that thought.” He steps away. I hear the rustle of his jeans, the crinkle of foil. I glance over my shoulder and watch him roll a condom down that impressive length. Extra large. Of course.
“Take it off,” I say.
“What?”
“The condom. I want to feel you.”
“Calvin…”
“I’m clean. Got tested last week. And I’ve been on a three-week dry spell, thanks to that bet.”
He tears the condom off and tosses it aside. “Clean too. I don’t fuck around as much as you think.”
“You don’t?”
“Hey, I didn’t drink a sip of alcohol tonight. I’m all about discipline. I have very good self-control.” He drags his cockthrough my crack, and when it catches on my rim, we both groan. “Usually.”
“Usually…”
“Except for you.”
“Yeah?”
“As soon as I saw you standing behind this bar, with your tattoos and your smartass comments… I knew I was in trouble.” He rocks against me. “But I don’t think I realized how much trouble until I had your cock in my mouth.”
“Shit.” I hang my head, pushing back against him. He’s pressing against my hole without entering. “Then stop teasing me.”
“I can’t just go in dry, man.”
“There’s lube in my wallet,” I manage as he circles the tight ring of muscle. “In my jeans.”
“Of course there is.” He grabs my jeans from the floor and pulls the small foil packet out. “Always prepared, aren’t you?”
“When you work in a bar, you learn to be.” Though this is the first time I’m the one who needs it.
He slicks himself up, stroking that massive cock until it gleams under the bar lights. Then he’s back, nudging against me, one hand spread across my lower back to hold me still. “Last chance to change your mind.”
“Shut up and fuck me, Brock.”
