Page 50 of Of Desire And Deception

Unable to wait any longer, I slid from the booth and stalked across the floor toward my usual spot at the bar. The man sitting in the seat took one look at my raised brow and hurried to vacate it for me. I lowered myself to the stool and leaned my elbows on the bar, waiting for Wynn to notice me.

It didn’t take long, but the little tease glanced at me, bit her lip, and turned away to help another customer. While I admired her dedication to my business, it irked me she didn’t even offer a greeting. My cock had been buried deeper in that pussy than any other man, for fuck’s sake.

My leg bounced impatiently as she darted around, grabbing bottles of alcohol and shaking drinks. The swells of her breasts bounced slightly, mesmerizing me until I realized every man around me was also getting a free show. That wouldn’t do.

“Hey, boss,” Wynn chirped lightly when she finally stopped before me. “What can I get you tonight? Sweet, sour, fruity, or fragrant?”

“You can tell Zach you’re taking your thirty and come with me,” I said gruffly, choosing not to say anything about her not using my name.

She looked around nervously. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. People might see us and think the worst.”

“And what would be the worst, goldilocks?” My tone dared her to disparage what we had between us. I would make her come until she begged me to stop if she made our attraction out to be something dirty or deserving of censure.

“Do you have a policy about fraternizing with employees?” Wynn asked softly.

So she was embarrassed she’d slept with her boss. Or maybe that we’d fucked on the first date. That kind of vulnerability appealed to me.

I grinned, drumming my fingers on the bar. “I can look it up for you. Tell Zach you’ll be back soon. He can handle the customers until then.”

Reluctantly, she spoke to her fellow bartender and tugged the small bar cloth from her waistband, tossing it on the corner of the counter. I waited by the door for her to follow, holding it open as she passed, wringing her hands nervously.

“I know people say I’m intimating, but you should know you’ve got nothing to fear,” I said, trying to break the tension she was feeling. It was so different from how she’d been the week before on our date.

She looked skeptical. “Right.”

“Unless you’re afraid of how I make you feel.” I tugged her into my office and backed her into the wall, brushing a wayward strand of her light blonde hair from her face. “Then you should be very afraid. Because I don’t intend to stop.”

Wynn gasped as I gripped her throat, her mouth falling open. I took advantage of it, locking my lips to hers and exploring her wet heat with my tongue. After a moment, she softened in my hold and played with me, her tongue thrusting back for each of my movements.

I pulled back and brushed my thumb across her lower lip, then dipped it into her mouth. Her lips pursed around the digit, and she sucked. “Such a good girl, giving me what I want.”

My eyes rolled back as the sensation shot straight down to my cock, making it harden and press uncomfortably against my black jeans. I mentally counted the minutes until Wynn had to get back to the front. If I fucked her quickly, she could make it. But I had other plans.

“That’s enough.” I pulled my thumb free and led Wynn to the couch before opening the mini fridge behind my desk. “I noticed you rarely bring food to work. And you don’t eat the bar food.”

“I just wait until I get home,” she explained, her eyes wide as she looked up at me from her seat.

“You need to eat,” I chastised, pulling several containers from the small refrigerator. I popped two of them into my small microwave and offered her the third with a fork. “Why don’t you start with dessert?”

She opened the container and stared at the tiramisu like it might be poisoned. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Fuck, no.” I laughed at the thought. Could I cook? Yes. Did I? Only when absolutely necessary. I’d rather order take-out. “My brother Dante’s housekeeper, Martina, made all of it. She likes to spoil us.”

I left out that she often had containers waiting for me to take home whenever I stopped by. It was her way of taking care of us after our mother was killed. While the gesture was heartfelt, it could never replace Mamma.

“I see.” Wynn stabbed the coffee-flavored dessert with her fork and brought the morsel to her lips, every move she made captivating me. “Oh, this is amazing.”

I remembered how it felt to have those plump lips wrapped around my cock, how her tongue had played with my piercings and driven me mad. When she moaned in pleasure at the flavor, I felt precum leak from the head and pressed my hand against my length through my pants. It didn’t help. She didn’t even know what she was doing to me, which only made it hotter.

The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the lasagna and parmigiana alla calabrese, sitting and setting them on the cushion between us. While Wynn worked on the dessert, I explained the other dishes.

“Do you want some?” Wynn asked, pausing as she brought another bite of tiramisu to her lips. Instead of answering, I reached out to guide her hand toward me, slipping the fork into my mouth and chewing as I kept eye contact and imagined I was eating her for dessert. Her breath hitched, and I grinned slyly.

I winked and released her hand. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” she stammered, shoving the last bite into her mouth to avoid speaking to me.

I was happy to sit silently in her presence and watch her eat the rest of her food, though. It didn’t matter that Wynn tried to ignore me, refusing to look at me until she was done, and muttered, “Thanks. It was delicious.”

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