Dirty (Dive Bar #1)(81)

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“I’d call it important.”

I took a deep breath, feeling hope yet fortifying myself for the pain. Where he was involved, in the end there always seemed to be pain. Fucking depressing but true. I needed to write poems about the orgasms he’d given me. Refind my joy.

“Thank you,” I said.

We just looked at each other.

“You’re beautiful, Lydia. Special. Usually things with me are just casual, hook-ups. No more than a night or two.” Mouth serious and gaze somber he paused, searching for the right words. “You’re not that. And it’s not just that we spent a bit more time together. It’s you. You make me wish things were different.”

All of a sudden my black flats were fascinating. Totally captivating. And it had nothing to do with the weepiness currently happening in my eyes. Honestly, this man. Every single time I shored up my defenses, mentally and emotionally preparing myself to lose him, he tore the fortress down. Bastard.

“Babe?”

I held up a hand, cautioning him not to speak. Like he hadn’t said enough.

He shut his mouth, brows high.

Meanwhile, I breathed. Breathing was good, useful. A really great hobby. Next I walked up to him and got to my knees. I just had to get close to him, to give him something more. Love him in some way to show him he was special to me too. Tiles were a bit of a bitch to kneel on. My favorite blue flares did nothing to soften the hardness. He couldn’t have made his speech somewhere sensible, say near a bed or somewhere there might be throw cushions. No way.

Men. Such pains in the ass.

“Um, Lydia?”

I ignored him, busy dealing with his belt buckle before tearing into the button and zipper of his jeans. Goddamn underwear. Today, of course, he decides to wear his boxer briefs. With a heavy sigh of irritation, I slipped my hands into the sides of his underwear, easing both them and the jeans down his hips. Smooth warm skin beneath my fingertips. Lean muscle and the curves of his hipbone. The scent was just that bit more potent here. Soap, sweat, and him. He made my mouth water.

Touch tender, I liberated his dick, rubbing my lips up and down against the underneath. Nothing felt as hot and silken as the skin on a man’s cock. It was amazing. Already, he was hardening, growing. Men had magic in their pants, it’s true. Only some took the time to figure out how best to use it, sadly. I traced the thick vein running all the way up with the tip of my tongue. Back and forth, back and forth. His breath caught, stomach muscles flexing.

“Shit.” He held up his black Dive Bar T-shirt, the other hand caressing the side of my face.

He filled my hand nicely. Not that size was any great indicator of talent. It helped, but it wasn’t the be-all to end-all. In one hand I cradled his balls, rolling them with my fingers. The other hand stayed wrapped around the base of his cock as I sucked him off. I sucked at him, long drawing pulls, before torturing him with my tongue. Giving head could be fun. I circled the head of his cock then licked back and forth across it. Sometimes I’d gently prod the tiny slit of his opening with the tip of my tongue, wiggling it inside just a little.

Vaughan gasped and grabbed hold of my ponytail, wrapping it around his fist. Heavy breathing echoed through the men’s room.

The trick was total inconsistency. Never let them know what’s coming next. I licked and sucked, tortured and teased, carefully grazed him with my teeth. I loved him with my mouth while my hand kept playing with his balls, tugging on them lightly now and then. I hummed, quite proud of myself. He swelled to admirable proportions and the vibration only helped. The rock-hard length of him slid in and out of my mouth as far as I could take it without gagging.

For a while, he managed to resist f*cking my mouth. When I massaged the sweet spot between his balls and his anus with the tip of my finger, however, he lost all control. Hips bucking, he thrust his cock between my lips. Only the presence of my hand wrapped around his base stopped him from going too deep.

“Fuck. Babe,” he growled, tugging on my hair.

It was hot, the feral sounds he made, the harsh, guttural tone of his voice. All down to me and all of it got to me. My panties were most definitely wet. His thick cock throbbed and I sucked hard, as hard as I could. Salty creamy cum filled my mouth to overflowing. I couldn’t swallow fast enough.

He sagged against the door, still holding my hair in his hand. I kneeled at his feet, catching my breath. And cleaning myself up as best I could. Swallowing wasn’t normally my thing. However, let’s not ponder that.

Cloudy blue eyes stared down at me. The hint of a smile playing with the edge of his lips. He liked me a lot. Maybe he even loved me a little. Who knew? It didn’t matter. He still wasn’t going to stay.

“Wish things were different,” he said, voice subdued.

“Me too.”

*

By the time I woke up the next morning, he was gone.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

FIVE DAYS LATER …

“We’re going to have to kill him.”

I see no alternative.” I took a sip of water, watching Masa go about his business. He was serving tables while singing “The Man Who Wants You” by Amos Lee at the top of his voice. People in love were the absolute worst. “He’s been intolerable ever since he got back with his girlfriend. It’s too bad, he’s a nice guy.”