Page 18 of Don't Speak
“Not this time, sis,” she states. “This one is most certainly checking you out. And rightfully so. Because you are just as gorgeous, and don’t you ever think otherwise.”
Outside of Amelia, Cora has been the only other person I feel comfortable enough around to share who I am with. She knows about my past and my insecurities, and while we don’t hang out outside of work often, I know she is always there for me when I need her.
I’m finishing up a strawberry margarita when she leans over and whispers, “It’s okay to let yourself feel, Nikki. You are deserving and worthy of love and companionship.”
Immediately, my eyes start to well up with tears. I look up at her and give her a small punch to the shoulder before saying, “Come on now, don’t get all sappy on me.”
She just gives me a small smirk before shaking the mojito she’s making in the shaker and pouring it into a glass.
It’s times like these where I feel validated in not wanting to leave this city. I’m so tired of running. I don’t want to run anymore. I’ve decided that whatever happens, I’ll handle it as it comes.
That was one hell of a shift. We made over $1500 each in tips. I guess you could say that is a perk of working at one of the only bars in this small town. There’s one other bar called the Roadhouse, but it’s occupied mostly by the town drunks and the older crowd who like less of a party scene.
Almost everyone has left, and only Dean and I remain. We stayed to ensure everything was taken care of for tomorrow so that no one had to come in earlier than needed since tonight was such a busy night. Cora was going to stay back to help, but the little minx decided to bow out when she realized Dean was staying. She gave me a little brow wiggle and wink before she scurried out the door.
Dean and I haven’t talked much since the incident in the bookstore. We chatted here and there tonight, but it was mostly about work. I wouldn’t necessarily say things are awkward, but you can definitely cut the tension with a knife. Maybe I should just fuck him and get it out of my system. It’s not like he wants a relationship with me or anything, so why not have a little fun? I decide that if he makes a move, I’ll take it.
I’m drying off the glasses when Dean comes around the bar, having finished wiping down the tables lining the walls around the bar.
“So, what’s your story, little lioness?” he asks me, my heart immediately racing at the question.
“What makes you think I have a story?” I respond coolly, making it a point not to show him that his question makes me uneasy.
“Oh, you have a story. I can sense it,” he says, making his way over to me.
“I—” I start, but I’m cut off when he presses himself up against me, his front to my back, taking the glass from my hand and placing it on the bar. He grabs both of my hands and places them on the smooth wood. “Don’t move from this position,” he demands.
“Dean,” I whisper softly, my panties suddenly becoming wet.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want this just as much as I do. And fuck, do I want this. But I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me.”
“We can’t. It will change things. It will make things awkward,” I tell him.
“Like fuck it will. I won’t make it awkward if you won’t. Now, tell me you want me.”
“I… I want you,” I breathe.
My shorts are suddenly pulled down to my ankles without warning, the black lace thong being the only barrier betweenhim and my most intimate part. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I lift my hands to cover myself, but he grabs them and slams them back on the bar.
“I said don’t fucking move, little lioness.”
A sharp sting settles across my ass.
“Did you just fucking spank me?” I screech, looking back at him.
“Oh, I plan to do much more than spank you. But consider it your punishment for disobeying me.” He grins devilishly.
Fuck. Consider me drenched. Do I like this? Why do I like this?
His rough hands move down my body to my ass, where he gives it a squeeze.Smack.“Fuck!” I yell. But the sting is rubbed away by his hand. He repeats this over and over.Smack.Rub.Smack.Rub. I’m practically squeezing my thighs together to get some form of relief.
With his hard body pressed against me and my ass pushed against his hard cock, he leans in and whispers, “I’ve been dreaming about tasting this pussy.”
I let out a moan, his filthy mouth increasing my already pulsing arousal.
“Is my little lioness wet enough for me yet?” he asks, snaking his hand around to the front of me, dipping his hand into my underwear. His fingers find their way to my clit, and I thrust my hips toward them, seeking the friction.
“I guess I have my answer.” He chuckles.
