Page 2 of Marked
The man crooked a finger at the bartender, and the cocky bastard finally decided to saunter over to serve me and Mr. Cigar Man.
“Two Jack Daniel’s. One for me and one for the pretty lady here,” my overly talkative neighbor ordered. He was rather proud of himself as he did it.
The bartender appraised me with a look far more smug than I expected from a man that looked like him. His nose was too big and covered in freckles, and he was pretty skinny compared to most of the men who frequented a bar like this. One good punch to the center of his nose and a chick like me could take him out with ease.
“Hi there. I’m Kendra,” I began as I held his hazel green eyes with mine. Seemingly unaffected by my perusal of his features, he poured two oversized portions of whiskey that were definitely more than a single shot. He slid one in front of me and the other to the dirty man beside me.
“Richie. Nice to meet you,” he answered, his cool stare still calculating as he tried to assess me.
“I hear you’re looking for an extra bartender,” I started, taking a guess that this man wasn’t only a bartender but the owner of the bar too.
“I am,” he answered.
“I’d like to apply,” I continued.
“I don’t typically employ pretty girls here. Usually, they can’t handle a place like this for very long,” he answered cautiously. His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. I met his look with as much challenge as I dared.
“These men don’t scare me,” I replied.
“They should,” another voice said to my left.
I turned my head to see who had spoken and found myself gazing up at a massive hunk of a man. Dark mahogany hair hung to his shoulders, thick dreadlocks that were decorated with a number of colored beads. He lifted his head, and the dim light illuminated his dense beard. His eyes appeared to be almost jet black, and I felt myself sucking in a nervous breath of air when they met mine.
For a moment, I forgot all about the bartender and the filthy, cigar-smoking man. The only things that mattered were me and this huge man standing right next to me. Almost touching me. I wondered what it would feel like if he did.
He was fucking massive, standing at maybe six and a half feet tall. Wearing a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans, he leaned against the bar and towered over me. His biceps were thick, unadulterated muscle, and for a second, I found myself thinking about how those arms would feel as they slammed me up against a wall. About how those thick fingers would feel as they slipped between my thighs and rolled over my clit. How a man like him could get me to scream his name with nothing more than a single thrust.
My nipples hardened into tight little peaks, and I was suddenly thankful for the thick pushup bra I’d decided to wear tonight. My panties felt damp, and I shifted in my seat. What the fuck? What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting like this?
“I can handle whatever these men throw at me,” I snorted, doing my best to cover up the rampant arousal that was quickly building inside of me at this man’s simple presence. Fake it ‘till you make it, right? That was my life motto.
“Can you now?” he asked, his tone rather arrogant and nonchalant at the same time.
The more he spoke, the more my body seemed to react to him. I felt myself growing warm, and I squirmed in my seat just a little more than before. He stared at me almost as though he could see right through me, like he knew exactly what was happening to my traitorous little body. He lifted his face a tiny bit as he sniffed the air, and I could have sworn I saw the black pupils in his dark eyes dilate just a hair, almost as though he could sense my inner turmoil.
I felt my cheeks warm with embarrassment. He couldn’t smell my arousal. That wasn’t possible. I told myself that over and over, but for some reason, I didn’t believe it. Taking a deep breath, I rolled my shoulders back in a gesture of confidence and stared him down.
“Fuck, yes, I can,” I finally answered, taking care to layer as much brash confidence into my voice as possible.
“Pretty little girls like you should know their limits,” he warned.
“Overconfident, steroid-abusing pricks like yourself should accept that their tiny little dicks are just going to leave a trail of disappointed and very unsatisfied women for the entirety of their sad little lives,” I countered. I leaned back and cocked an eyebrow in his direction, daring him to challenge me and waiting for him to inevitably back down.
But he didn’t. Instead, my words just made him seem to grow bigger and even more dangerous than before. He chuckled in amusement and turned his massive form completely toward me. Seated before him, the only thing I could feel was his presence all around me. It was both stifling and consuming at the same time. He leaned forward, holding my gaze as his fingers curled around the back of my chair on either side of my shoulders. He’deffectively trapped me with just his body, and I shivered hard as I felt my core clench with unwanted desire.
“Little girls with very wet little pussies should know their place before they tease much bigger men with their sassy little mouths,” he whispered, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. My heart went pitter-patter in my chest, and I almost forgot to breathe.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I countered, but my voice was shaky and unsure.
He grinned and stared me down, leaving little doubt in my mind that he knew I was lying. My stomach fluttered with butterflies, and I told myself once more that he couldn’t know how aroused I was. It wasn’t possible. Human noses just didn’t work like that.
“You think I can’t, but I can smell how very wet you are right now, baby doll,” he answered, his voice still low, and I realized it was doing very strange things to my insides. There was no way. It had to be just a lucky guess. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“Does that work on every girl you try to bring home from the bar?” I asked, smirking and trying to hide the fact that I felt more turned on at that moment than I’d ever been in my whole life. Right then, I very much just wanted to fuck him, but I would never admit that. Not for anything. Not for a million fucking dollars.
“Kendra, was it? I’m Alaric,” he replied, purposely ignoring my question. I tried to remain stoic, but I was shaking like a nervous leaf on the inside. I told myself I could handle this, that all I had to do was depend on myself to get out of here. I’d dealt with a number of overconfident men like him before, and if he wasn’tcareful, I’d knee him in the balls and ensure he’d never sire a child again.
“Fuck off, Alaric. You couldn’t handle me even if you tried,” I retorted, trying to save face even as my body betrayed me right in front of him.
