Page 5 of Baring it All (Men in Charge)

“Hey.” I can barely hear her over the music playing through the speakers, the bass vibrating off the walls as well as the stomping of feet on the dance floor.

My head descends, mouth going to her ear and whispering, “Baby girl.” Her hands come to my sides, hands clenching the fabric of my shirt, white and emblazoned with High Tide Tavern in bold black letters, my uniform in case I’m needed. When Stormy saw me earlier, the shirt I was wearing was grey, stained, and soaked with sweat after working outside. A complaint came in about the lights in the parking lot not working. The last thing I want is for someone to leave the bar at two o’clock in the morning and not feel safe.

“Griff.” She leans into me, digging into my sides. The need to get us away from the doorway in case a person comes barreling inside and slams into her drives me.

“Come on.” My teeth nip at her earlobe before I pull away, maneuvering us so I’m now beside her and my hand is on her lower back. What I don’t expect is Stormy to loop her arm around me in a similar fashion or for her thumb to slide into my belt loop. There are a few looks tossed our way as I we walk toward the back of the bar. “Hey, Griff, good to see you,” a customer says. His hand is out, and fuck it all to hell, I can’t necessarily do nothing. They’re paying customers, the reason I’m able to breathe easier and not have to work as many shifts as I once did.

“Hey, man, good to see you, too.” My right hand takes his. Unfortunately, it causes me to lose my hold on Stormy’s waist. It’s quick with one man, then it turns into another asking, “Hey, you plan on expanding anytime soon? I’ve got a friend who retired and is looking to sell his bar in the town over.” Talking shop isn’t what I want to do right now, and adding another bar to my already hectic schedule is even less.

“I haven’t thought about it, honestly. I’m pretty set right now, but be sure to leave the information with Jeremy at the bar, and I’ll take a look,” I reply.

“Will do,” he responds.

“Have a good night.” I close down any further conversations with others. Stormy’s here because I asked her to come, not to watch me work. It was me who was unwilling to wait until tomorrow when the bar is closed and we could have some damn alone time. If I weren’t hellbent on being around her as much as possible now that she opened the door, I would have waited. It’s no longer an option. Stormy is doing shit to me I never thought possible. Thinking things like giving up my adrenaline junkie ways in order to be home more. Yeah, there’s a lot standing in our way, but who fucking cares? I sure don’t, and the town of Jasmine, South Carolina better get it out of their heads that they’ll make her feel uncomfortable.

“You okay?” Stormy’s once relaxed body is now rigid. No longer is she leaning toward me, and her hand that was holding me is now gone. I was so caught up in trying to shut a conversation down that I didn’t realize something had happened. My eyes sweep over her face, cataloguing her look, noticing she’s looking straight ahead, at the dance floor yet not. She is closing down. Something happened, and I want to know the who, what, and why. Now.

“Yep, I’m fine.” Clearly, she’s not fine. It’s the furthest from the truth, but talking about it out in the open with more prying eyes is not what she needs.

“Come on.” My hand resumes its place on her lower back, and I notice hers doesn’t. This time, the crowd doesn’t clear as much of a path. More people are piling in, and my only option is to move Stormy so she’s in front of me. The scowl on my face must show people I’m busy because no one stops us again as we forge a path on the outside of the dance floor. The lights go from shining in different colors to a more muted tone. We finally hit the door to the employee only hallway. I punch in the code, open the door, and the noise quiets down once it shuts behind us.

“Wow, I had no idea how this was set up,” Stormy says. My hand reaches for hers as we walk toward my office.

“Working is impossible when you can’t hear yourself think. This is all soundproof. The main door has a keypad, and so does my office.” I’m behind her and her hand on the railing, hips swaying and jean skirt hiking up a sliver at a time.

“That makes sense.” I count each step. My cock is ready to take things farther. My head is telling me to calm the fuck down and figure out what had Stormy upset downstairs. The damn bastard, he doesn’t like that idea. Well, that’s too damn bad.

“Put the code in, Seven-Four-Seven-Zero,” I give her the code to my office, hands going to her hip and my front plastered to her back.

“Griff.” Her voice trembles as she does what I say, no questions asked.

“We’re going to talk, mainly you. I want to know what happened downstairs, then we’re going to eat. If this night plays out like it should, you’ll be in my bed. Tonight.” She turns around, hair swinging around her shoulders as she does, and I step into her space. I watch as her eyes heat with desire, then narrow into slits, and finally, she takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, as if she’s counting to five in her head before letting it out.

“Let it go. It doesn’t matter. And who said anything about me sleeping with you?” She cocks a hip, a tilt of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Not letting it go. If I have to get it out of you another way, I will, and baby girl, no one said a word about sleeping tonight.” Her sharp intake of breath is the only tell I need. My hands grip her waist, pulling her toward me, my legs bracketing her on either side as she walks backwards, not stopping until my desk meets her ass, and then my mouth is on hers.

7

STORMY

Griff takes my mouth, that’s the only way to describe it. There’s no buildup, no soft touches or slow licks. My hair is fisted, he’s holding me where he wants, lips and tongue devouring me whole, and I’m along for the ride, eagerly. If Griff were to hold me captive, I’d be his willing victim. If only I could keep hold of this feeling. The sensations are unlike any I have ever experienced before, Zach and with the others. No one has ever made me feel this alive. It’s as if I’m on a tightrope, balancing for dear life, holding on as tightly as I can but letting go. It would be the most freeing ever.

“Griff.” I pull away for a moment. He clearly doesn’t like that even if it is to catch my breath. His teeth nip at my lower lip, pulling me back into his intoxicating vortex. He doesn’t respond. I wasn’t expecting an answer. I also wasn’t expecting to have a kiss rock me to my core. My head tips back, giving his mouth access to travel to my chin, nipping at it much like he did my lips, tongue lapping at it to soothe away any pain he may have caused. Newsflash, I like the way he bites me and the moan that lives me only spurs him on further.

“Fuck, yeah,” Griff mutters along the column of my neck. He stops at the pulse point. My core tightens with each pull, body arching to get closer to him. My hands are tangled in his shirt, pulling the fabric up with the tips of my fingers until I finally meet his skin. Griff bites at my neck, no doubt leaving a mark of some kind, a brand if you will. One that I’m sure can and will be seen by the town of Jasmine, and I will absolutely not cover it up. It’ll be my badge of honor for finally finding a piece of myself I thought was broken. His hand tightens its hold in my hair. “I want you to watch. Keep your eyes focused on what I’m doing, Stormy.” I feel his hand on the outside of my thigh, more skin pressing against skin. The fire inside me is building rapidly with each firm touch of his body. Griff pulls up my skirt with deft fingers until he can’t any longer. My eyes move to his face and then to what he’s doing to my body. He’s dominating my mind, my senses, and my body. It's soul consuming. I want to bare it all. Give everything to him and let him take control.

“Lift up, baby girl. Let me see you.” His thumb sweeps up the inside of my thigh, edging dangerously close to my pussy. The body suit I’m wearing is the only thing between his hands and my bareness. One snap of the metal clasp between my legs, and Griff would see it all.

“Oh God.” I lose my hold on his body in order to do what he said, hands pressing down on his desk to lift my ass off the dark wood desk. Griff slides my skirt up even higher until it’s wrapped around my waist. Never once when I got dressed before I walked over to Griff’s bar did I think this is where I would land—on his desk, spread open, him working me into such a fevered pace that I feel like one small brush along my clit would make me explode.

“I’m not God, baby girl, but I am your daddy.” My eyes find his face. Another wave of shock rolls through my body, and it’s not in disgust. It’s in pure unadulterated lust. The look I give Griff must be more than enough answer that I’m okay with him calling himself that or for me to use it. My hands that were on the desk take ahold of his shirt, trying to pull it off his body. If I’m going to be half naked, he can be, too. He gets the memo. His hand in my hair disappears, and holy fucking shit, I watch as he grabs at the neck of his shirt from behind and pulls it up and over his head. My gaze is glued to each delicious inch of skin he uncovers. He doesn’t’ have a stomach that’s the perfect eight-pack most girls and women want; it’s lightly muscled with some softness. My hands reach out to feel more of him, hovering over his abdomen, and when he steps closer, the tips of my fingers trace a tattoo on his ribcage. I watch as his body locks up, and it’s good to know I’m not the only one affected in this situation. His left arm is covered in tattoos, a sleeve devoid of any color. Waves give way to a serpent, carrying it to the back of his hand. I mean, sure, I’ve seen his lower arm and hand, but nothing prepared me for the full effect of Daddy Griff.

“You’re gorgeous,” I pause. “Daddy.” The words slip out of my mouth. Griff responds by taking a step closer. We’re meshed together. Fused, so to speak, his hard, thick, and what appears to be long dick throbbing against my aching center.

“Christ, baby girl. You good with this?” he asks, circling his hips, his bulge hitting my clit again. I nod in response. Words are harder to formulate as he continues his ministration. My head rolls back on my shoulders, eyes closing, and a long moan is all I can force to come out. “I need words, Stormy, or this stops.” I’d like to see him try. I’m so close to coming, and should he stop, well, I’m not sure if I would survive. I’d probably take matters into my own hands, push him until he's planted in the chair he has in front of his desk. My fingers would attack his belt, button, and zipper until I could finally get my hands wrapped around his cock. A quick pull on my bodysuit would have it open, and I could sink down on him until he’d be planted deeply inside me.

“Stormy,” he grunts, getting my attention. Both of his hands tighten on the cheeks of my ass, the tips of his fingers pressing in further. What I don’t expect is for him to grasp the thong part of the bodysuit that’s attached and pull on it. My eyes pop open, head comes forward, and I mewl at the sensation. Griff might be asking a question, one he already knows the answer to, but it’s not stopping him from making me fall apart. “Answer me, or I’m stopping.” His thumb sweeps beneath the black fabric, right at the entrance to my pussy, while the other keeps working the front patch of my bodysuit to rub against my clit.

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