Page 115 of A Guy Walks Into My Bar
“I believe you said you’d make me a martini,” Fitz says in a low rumble.
“You want the kind that goes to your head?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, and his gaze is hungry already, since he’s been on the road for a week.
In an instant, the air between us is charged.
Flickering with arousal. With the promise of hot, dirty deeds.
Three years in, it’s still there.
It’s still pulsing.
It’s still powerful.
This connection. This intimacy. This desire.
He grabs my face and devours my lips.
We kiss hungrily for a few minutes, then I break the kiss and pull him to the bar, away from the doorway and from the eyes of anyone on the street past midnight. “Sit. Have your drink.”
“Someday,” he says, echoing the words we both voiced at the club the night I said I’d make it for him. Our wish to have all our somedays together.
“You get all your somedays, Fitz.” I hand him a martini.
Fitz knocks back a thirsty drink as Sam Smith plays on the sound system. “I want all my somedays,” he says, desire in his voice as he hands the cocktail to me. I find the spot on the glass where his lips were and drink from there, meeting his gaze the whole time, as a pulse seems to beat between us.
He groans his appreciation. “It’s already working.”
“Is it now?” I put down the glass.
His eyes won’t leave me. They stay on me, full of heat. “You go to my fucking head, Dean.” My husband stands, walks behind the bar, and grabs the waistband of my jeans. He jerks me toward him, our bodies pressing together. “That drink makes me want you. Or maybe it was a week on the road. Seven lonely fucking nights.”
“You missed my cock.”
He runs a thumb along my jaw. “Missed your cock. Missed your face. Missed your sarcasm.” He grips my chin harder. “Let me fuck you here.”
I shake my head. “No. We’re not fucking behind the bar. I can’t in good conscience serve a customer knowing we screwed here.”
“I want to, babe,” he says, on a needy, hungry plea. “What if I do chores, like you and Maeve?”
I laugh. “Wait a second. Chores are in the running? That might change everything.”
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Let’s start a new game. For every dirty deed you let me do to you here in your bar, I’ll owe you a chore.” He brings his lips to my ear, licking and biting, driving me wild. “And you know what’ll get me to sanitize the ice bins for you.”
A groan works its way up my chest as I picture our X-rated exchange rate. “I do enjoy when you work your magic in that department. You have a wicked tongue.”
Fitz flicks the tip of it against my earlobe. “You love all the things I do to you with my tongue.”
My temperature shoots up a hundred degrees. “I love all your secret, dirty tricks.” For a few seconds, I linger on the images, on all the ways he drives me out of my mind with pleasure. But I also find so much pleasure in having fun with him, teasing him. I inch away so I can tip my forehead to the game room. “Only, I really need someone to paint the game room.”
His hands grip my hips now, and he yanks me against him so I can feel the full length of his erection. “Let me fuck you here, and I’ll paint it this weekend,” he offers.
Even though I’m tempted, I laugh. “Hmm. You seem hard up, so this negotiation might be mine to win. How about a blow job for a paint job?”
“Tradesies. I’ll do it.”
“You must be really horny, Fitz.”
“So fucking horny you can’t believe it.”
“Why don’t you prove it to me? So I can be sure I believe it. Feel free to get on the floor and suck my cock.” I point downward. Where I want him.
His brow furrows. “Wait. I thought I was getting blown?”
I adopt a surprised expression. “Oh, you don’t like blowing me?”
“Fuck you. I love it. I’ll show you how much. Happily.”
And lucky me. On his birthday night—fine, it’s a day later, but we’re celebrating tonight—my husband gets down on his knees, unzips my jeans, and takes me in his hungry mouth.
My body burns the second he makes contact, and I grunt out a yes.
I run a hand over his beard, loving the feel of it on my thighs as he draws me deep, his cheeks hollowing out like a hungry man as I fill his mouth.
Sparks race across my skin, making me hot, making me wild. His eyes glint, as he moans against my shaft. Taking me deeper, sucking me so damn ravenously that it’s like electricity is flickering throughout my entire body.
“Yes, that. Fucking that,” I say, groaning as his tongue spirals along my length. I curl my hands around his head, fingers roping through his hair, moans falling from my lips. I rock into his mouth as pleasure intensifies in my spine then breaks, detonating as I come down his throat.
