Page 5 of Locked Up by The Libra
Not that I know if anything I have done has made a difference. I have marched, protested, donated, and I have given my all. It is never enough. There is always more suffering, more tragedies, and more disaster. Why do I keep torturing myself if I can’t see a difference being made?
If Ihavemade one, I sure don’t feel it. I can’t see it. Sighing, I decide this introspection can wait for another night. Now I just want a cold beer, some stale peanuts, and whatever music they have on the jukebox. I came to town to join another uprising, but it can also wait for another night.
Last night with that sexy stranger sure confused my situation. Why I kissed him the way I had, why I felt so needy, I still cannot figure out. Sure, I have been known to be a little wild, dance on tables, cause a scene, pit two hot soap stars against one another. That was alongtime ago.
“Oh yes,” I exclaim with a chuckle. “How long since I heard this?”
Hitting a button, I nod my head asMr. Robotoby Styx fills the cozy bar. Dumping a few bucks' worth of change into the jukebox, I pick half a dozen other songs. Shaking my way back to the bar, I grab the beer Tre, the friendly and welcoming bartender, pushes across the bar to me.
“Thanks, beautiful,” I call with a wink. “Taking over the jukebox for a while, hope no one minds. This place is adorable. Is it the only bar in town?”
“No one will mind, if they do, they can stuff it. I like your music tastes. Thank you honey. Just us here in Driftwood. We did get a new coffee place up the street. Heard we might also get a swanky new bistro soon. Lots of change has gone on since the logging crews got the landings going.”
Huh, that is not at all what I thought I would hear about the logging crews. Quinn and the girls came up here to stop them. Why would we want to do that if it has helped grow the small town? Sipping my beer, one she says is brewed right here in Driftwood, I start to think I got it all wrong.
Taking another sip, I spin on the stool to watch the other patrons. People watching is a favorite past time of mine. I make up stories for who I think they could be. It’s just a way to pass time and amuse myself.
Seeing an older, slightly grizzled man seated at a corner stool, I consider him. Silver hair, sun roughened skin, head bowed in a plume of cigarette smoke. His name is Winston, he drives trucks across the country, but he always wanted to be a bee farmer. I chuckle to myself, letting my eyes scan the bar for someone else.
“Oh, shit.”
Grinning at me, Watt tilts his head as he saunters across the bar, eating up the distance between us. My hands shake as they close tight around my beer. God, he is even hotter than I remember. Tall and wide, his dark hair is a mess on top, the way it was after I ran my fingers through it while he ate my pussy.
“Oh, shit,” I whimper it this time, my thighs trembling as he wets his lip. God, that mouth should be a registered weapon.
“Came here looking for a beer. Once again, I findyouinstead. Think that means something, sugar?”
Watt cages me in against the bar, his thick arms on either side of me, his hands on the bar top. His grey shirt is tight across his chest and his biceps seem to want to bust out of the sleeves. I would very much love to watch him bust out of this shirt, now that I think about it.
Blinking up at him, I feel my pulse skittering. Does he have to be so damn handsome? In my circle I knew plenty of good-looking guys. This man though…holy hell. His eyes simmer with heat, the gray liquid silver. His thick beard does not hide his sharp jaw and when he swallows, somehow the bob of his Adam’s apple is sexier than it should be.
“It could mean you owe me a dance. Do you dance, stud?”
“For you, sugar, I sure as shit will learn.”
Grinning, I push from the bar, body colliding with his. Somehow, I know he will catch me. And he does, thick arms winding tight around me. He backs up a few feet and we’re on the small, battered wood dance floor. I close my eyes as Butterflies by Kacey Musgraves moves us slowly.
“Pretty sure I owe more than a dance,” his voice hums at my ear as he presses me closer, hands at the small of my back. “I owe you a smacked bottom for what you let me do to you. Which I am giving you once you let me do it again, sugar.”
Oh. Oh, my. He is top notch at sweet talk. Panties ruined. I tilt back, peering up at him in the darkness of the bar. It is the second time I have felt this connection between us. It tugs at me, as if telling me to pay attention. To take notice of how I feel when this man is close.
“Play a game with me, Watt,” I whisper, feeling vulnerable as he smiles down at me. “People watch for a few songs with me. I go places alone a lot, I like being alone. Not lonely, which I am lately. Anyway, I play this game where I make up who I think people might be. Play along?”
“You got it, sweetheart. Where do we start?”
My arms lace tighter around his broad shoulders, my fingers sinking into his thick, dark hair. For a moment, we just stare at one another. I have never had a silent conversation with someone but, here we are. I am not saying a word, but I know he senses how shaken I am by my attraction to him. But more importantly, how tired I am of battling life all by myself.
Glancing away as emotion swells inside me like a tidal wave, I seek a target. A couple sits in a booth several feet away. It seems new but they cannot hide how they smile at one another. Grinning, I jerk my head at them as our first subject.
“There. David and Tonya. Fourth date but they slept together on the second date. He can’t wait to get her naked again, but she wants more romance. Dave has never dated seriously before, so he is scrolling Pinterest to find out how to be romantic.”
Chuckling, he shakes his head as he spins us to get a good look at the couple. “That’s good. I think…Tonya is a cake maker who wants to get married soon. David will treat her like a princess. Look again though, how she is watching him. That sweet cake maker wants him to tie her up and inflict some pain.”
Something hot courses through me and I bite back a moan. God, that sounds hot. Him tying me up to hurt me just a little. As if sensing how turned on I am, his thick thigh slides between mine. I gasp, my panties soaked as they rub against his muscled jean-clad thigh.
“Would someone else like being restrained, little girl?”
“Y-yes. By you,” I answer, my chest pumping as I struggle to breathe. “Did you say that because you knew?”
