Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“As in Hardy’s Hideaway?”
“The very one.” I pour her drink into the martini glass and add a slice of lime to the lip. “What’s your name?”
“Constance.”
Holding my hand out, she slips hers into mine. She doesn’t have to, but I know it’s coming. Her grip begins to compete. It’s a control issue I’m happy to help with and relinquish to her. “Constance is a pretty name.”
Her fingers smooth hair that’s already smoothed, her gaze dipping away as embarrassment colors her cheeks. Now this is unexpected. I want more. I want to watch that blush spread across her bare chest when she rides me and then down her spine when I take her from behind. And before you get all riled up over the sex talk, you should know I enjoy sex. I like to make love. I love to fuck. I like the foreplay. I enjoy the after play. A little cuddling is good after a romp in the sack. Kisses are fine as long as emotions are kept at bay. I’m not broken. I’m not recovering from heartbreak, and I’m not pining over a lost love. Nope. I just like the simple act of connecting with another human on a raw and carnal level. I like the euphoria of hitting that peak and then tumbling down into a state of satiation with bones of jelly and a mind free from daily troubles. I like giving that same freedom to women who seem to struggle to find it.
So I don’t need a lecture on how I’m heartless. I’m not. I’ve been in relationships and they’re just not for me. But I still enjoy bonding physically with women. Many women.
Sitting down on a barstool, she wraps her fingers around the stem of the glass. I watch as she takes her first sip, her eyes dipping closed. Bliss lingers on her lips, glistening against her pinot noir colored mouth. Her tongue slips out to taste the tart liquid. Long, dark lashes lift and she says, “It’s perfect.”
“That’s what I strive for.”
“You should strive for something more tangible.”
“Don’t underestimate the perfection of a good cocktail.”
Holding her drink up, she says, “Touché.” After taking a deeper sip this time, she smiles sweetly, but mischievously. “You have customers, Hardy.”
I like the way she says my name, an upswing on the ending. I can’t wait to hear it two octaves higher rolling off her tongue. “Just whistle if you need me.”
Nodding, she tends to the phone that lights up in front of her. I leave her be, tending to the other ladies looking for love, or drinks. “What can I get you?”
Light blond. Fake—pretty much everything, but it’s working for her. “Are you available?”
“Are you asking for you, or for a friend?”
She bites her lower lip, leaving tracks in her bright pink lipstick. I’ve had that shade wrapped around my cock before. I’m feeling something moodier tonight—to be specific—pinot noir. I purse my lips, and then smile. “Unfortunately, I have a long shift ahead of me.”
“I heard rumors about your long shaft.” She covers her mouth with her hand and giggles. “I mean, shift.” Her flirting is lacking, but she seems nice enough. “Guess I’m out of luck tonight.”
“I’m still serving, if you’re thirsty.”
Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she replies, “So thirsty. I could just guzzle you down.”
My cock stirs.
There’s a point in the evening, early on, like now, just after seven when I like to fuck. I’m not sure if it’s the excitement of what’s to come for the night, hopefully me, or the thought of opportunity presenting itself. But almost every shift, my little buddy becomes my hard as a rock friend and is easily tempted the first chance he gets. I’ve learned to curb the craving. I may like sex, a lot, but I’m not easy. “Something to drink?”
“Sex on the Beach.” Pure sugar. No subtlety. Like the woman in front of me.
I’ve had sex with two women—together and separately—in the same night. I’m not ashamed of my sexual history or my sex drive. I’m happy to please and be pleasured. Like I said, it’s part of what makes us human and connects us on a deeper level. But if I was to compare, I’m in the mood for spicier notes with more depth. Tonight I’d rather have one strong drink than a slew of cheap ones. I may have gotten Constance’s drink order right but I called it all wrong when it came to her. I must remedy this, and not with candy-coated fruit punch drinks.
I place the drink in front of her, and then slide down to the other end of the bar. I stop in front of Constance, someone I consider a top shelf among call drinks. “Ready for another?”
The glass is emptied and pushed toward me. “I need to close out.”