Dirty Martini (Crow Bar Brute Squad Book 2) Page 5

  Katie shook her head, and then she had the sensation that they were moving. She soon understood why; he was backing her up against the wall. “No,” she replied. “I’m just a little bit extra, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t want to throw your back out.”

  He still seemed confused. “I don’t know what kind of jerks have been trying to get into your panties, but they’re pussies. I mean…sorry. I guess I shouldn’t use that word.” Even as he said that, his pelvis drove against hers, the rubbing inciting a fresh flare of yearning inside her.

  Katie smiled at his apology. “How are you so cute?”

  He looked at her then as if he was trying to glare, but a pleased grin teased at his lips. “I don’t know, but can I have your tits now, please?”

  She held back a laugh, not wanting him to think she was laughing at him. She wasn’t; the laughter came from an overload of excitement, delight, and surprise at every turn with how polite he was with her. Sure, his words could be a little rough around the edges, but that was part of his charm.

  When she nodded, he set her down just long enough to help her get rid of her top, his heated eyes savoring every inch of her skin.

  She twisted her arms back to unhook her bra, but Holden had other ideas. “Leave it on. I wanna play,” he growled, gazing down at her red, lacy underwire. She suddenly no longer regretted spending way too much money on hand-stitched custom lingerie that gave her a pretty silhouette while also not biting her skin or wedging itself in all the wrong places. He looked at her like a man who’d just discovered a new country and intended to claim it for the Kingdom of Holden. That bra designer had earned herself a huge tip.

  Holden had so many talents. He somehow managed to keep her feet off the floor, her legs wrapped around him, while also ridding the bed of its comforter, pillows, and top sheet before laying her down on the fitted sheet. She was relieved she didn’t have to say anything; it was good to know he was as wary as she was about this place.

  He laid her down on the mattress and immediately let her know what he meant by “play.” Holden hadn’t been joking around. His hand and mouth savored her breasts. His fingertips explored the lacy covering, teased her nipples into hard pebbles through the fabric. He caressed the exposed skin with his cheek as if nuzzling into a favorite blanket. His teeth nipped gently at her skin, at her covered nipples, while his hands squeezed and stroked. Never in her life had anyone handled her this way.

  His sighs and groans against her skin sparked more pleasure, more need. She needed more pressure, more of him everywhere. She gripped the back of his head and begged for a kiss.

  He responded by kissing her mouth harder, deeper, as their hips fused together. Dampness continued to slick her pussy. He wedged himself between her legs, letting all of her limbs wrap around him. The friction of his jeans teased her clit.

  “I wanna come on your tits, Cupcake.”

  Katie whimpered out her consent and nodded enthusiastically, her hands tugging at his shirt.

  Lifting her hips off the mattress with one thick, tattooed arm, he slid the crotch of her undies to one side. His mouth kissed hers once more, then covered one breast while sliding his fingers into her split. She gasped and grappled with Holden’s hair.

  “That’s it. Pull my hair while I’m making you come.” One finger entered her, then two, and she clamped down. She moaned out a curse with her first release when his fingers reached her inner trigger.

  “You’re soaking my hand, Cupcake. Such a pretty pussy.”

  Katie tugged at his hair, still riding the wave of pleasure when his fingers pulled out of her channel and moved over her clit. She was so turned on that a scream ripped from her throat after only a single swipe to her tight little bud.

  “Fuck,” Holden whispered against the heated skin between her breasts. “You’re so pretty when you come. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  The way he said those words felt like more than just dirty talk. Something about them touched her in a new place. How could this person be pure and impure at the same time? Forget that, how had she come so hard, multiple times, and still had on all of her underthings, and this man was still fully dressed?

  Holden then partially undressed, as promised. She watched him unbuckle, unzip, reach in and pull out a thick, throbbing cock. Her mouth gaped while witnessing him gild the full length of it in the juice that was all over his hand. “The frosting is the best part,” he said, noticing her astonishment.

  She marveled at the spectacle, taking particular notice of the ripple in his upper arm muscles as he coated and fondled himself. Then, she laid back as he approached her again.

  “H-How would you like me to…” she asked clumsily, but she needn’t have asked at all. Holden had everything under control and positioned her exactly how he wanted her against the headboard.

  “Like this,” he said with a smirk and landed another kiss on her greedy mouth. Oh, she wanted more of that kiss, but the view she had in the next moment was intoxicatingly dirty. His dick, covered in her essence, wedged between her breasts, his hips slowly rolling up and down. Holden braced himself with both his arms against the wall behind her, above the headboard. As his pace increased, and the cheap pressboard began a rhythmic slap against the paper-thin drywall, Katie had a passing thought that their antics might do some damage to the room. Not that any new damage would make a noticeable difference.

  He pumped in earnest then, cursing and jerking against her, his cock moving between her breasts fervently. If she hadn’t been so deeply in awe of this moment, she might have noted out loud that their headboard noises were giving the neighbors a run for their money.

  Her greedy hands wanted to touch him everywhere, but then she got the idea to make it even better for him. She squeezed her breasts together, the tighter sensation sending the first arc of cum spurting across her chest. “Oh my god, this is amazing,” she said, trying so hard not to laugh in her delight. “Delight” was the only word for it. Never had she made out in a seedy motel. Never had she had a younger man make her feel like a sex object. Never had anyone this hot worshipped her breasts, her whole entire body. Never had anyone ever come on her like this. She’d watched scenes like this in porn before, but holy shit, was it different up close. Holden thrust hard several more times, each time spilling more of himself across her chest, some of it dripping down her breasts. With one final, firm thrust, some landed on her face in his enthusiasm.

  He gritted and cursed through his climax while she let go of her breasts and grabbed onto that length with her hands. She wanted to kiss it, touch it, worship his body as he had done for her, but then she realized he was looking down at her in embarrassment.

  “Oh fuck. I’m so sorry. I got some on your face. C’mere.” And to her utter shock, he kissed and licked the tiny spot clean on her chin.

  She smiled, amazed at the tenderness and the filthiness she had experienced all within a single afternoon. “It’s all good,” she said, cupping his face and drawing him into a savoring kiss, enjoying the musky taste of him mingled with his minty breath. “Frosting’s the best part.”

  Chapter Nine

  Holden

  “That’s Mr. O’Donnell to you.”

  The tall hipster with the newsie cap had to be kidding himself. That was Holden’s first thought when that dude corrected the Brute Squad on how to properly address him.

  Mavis had eschewed a going-away party and pulled an Irish goodbye, to everyone’s surprise. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. And then, a bearded thirty-something with a waxed mustache was there in her place.

  Nobody was happy about it, not with Mavis’s disappearance, nor with this artisanal-ice-slinging freak who was entirely out of his depth.

  It was a Tuesday night, just ahead of the nightly rush, and the new boss man was trying to show the wait staff and Griff how to properly store and serve the fancy ice that Crow Bar now apparently stocked.

  Billy completely ignored the reprimand about how to
address the new man in charge. “Hey. Is that new ice like that kind from that fast food place, where they make it easier to chew?”

  O’Donnell blinked at Billy. “No. No, it’s not fast food ice, it’s—”

  “Because that chewy ice is the shit.”

  O’Donnell’s curled mustache twitched. He was not amused.

  “Anyway,” he said, “This ice came from special mineral water from a spring in the Castle Hill Woods, so we must not store it in the same freezer as the regular ice.”

  Dash, the second-loudest mouth of the bunch, leaned over the bar a little too close to O’Donnell. “Hey, Declan. Look around you. Are you gonna charge extra for fancy ice? Because ain’t nobody here buying that shit.”

  O’Donnell, who’d been leaning over the bar, his balled fists stacked against the varnished wood, stood up to full height. “It’s not fancy ice. It’s artisan ice. And we are in the process of rebranding this place. There’s a lot of new development coming into the area, and with it, the potential for a whole new clientele.”

  Holden snorted. “Hear that, guys? We don’t have customers. We have clients.”

  O’Donnell turned his attention to Holden, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mr. Murphy, is it?”

  Holden said only, “Mr. Murphy is my dad.”

  O’Donnell followed up with, “According to Mavis’s files, you were the most recent hire. If I were you, I would be keeping my head down and my ears open. The last hired is usually the first fired.”

  “Four years ago is hardly a recent hire.” That comment came from Levi.

  Holden bit back the urge to tell O’Donnell where to stick that artisan mineral ice. He felt grateful Levi spoke up to prevent any more outbursts.

  Levi continued, “Also, Mavis would never waste her money on frivolous shit like this.”

  O’Donnell turned to Levi and slowly explained the situation. “On the contrary. She spent way too much money hiring bouncers who wouldn’t be necessary if she had invested anything in the ambiance.”

  Billy’s familiar high-pitched cackle rent the uncomfortable air that surrounded everyone in that impromptu meeting. “The only ambiance required here is access to better booze, dartboards, pool tables, and fried pickles to soak up some of the alcohol. Save the rest for your millennial bars on the Riverwalk.”

  “Hey, dummy,” Holden said, turning to Billy. “We’re all millennials here.”

  “But the vast majority of the people who drink here are older,” Levi corrected. “And they aren’t going to go in for a…rebranding or whatever.”

  O’Donnell ripped the yellow piece of paper from his legal pad where he’d had his scrawled-out agenda for the ice meeting. He sighed loudly, tossed the paper into the trash receptacle behind the bar, and ended the session with, “Buckle up, boys. The more you resist, the more painful it’s gonna be.”

  Billy howled, “That’s what your mom said last night!”

  Holden cringed. Dash snorted. Levi muttered “dumbass” under his breath.

  Declan fired Billy on the spot.

  Chapter Ten

  Katie

  Empty of all words, Katie awaited her therapist’s response to the story she’d just shared.

  Her legs tucked underneath her on the leather sofa while she hugged a throw pillow, Katie waited for the inquisition about her most recent escapade—a dirty tryst at a seedy motel in the middle of a workday.

  She had left out the most graphic details, but Calista was no prude; she got the gist. Katie eyed the West African artwork on the walls that gave the room a homey feel.

  “And how did that engagement at the motel make you feel, Katie?”

  Katie let out a long exhale. The exciting event had just taken place the day before. Her mind and body still reeled at the memory of every kiss, every touch, every sight of that eager stallion of a man. “Alive.”

  She assumed the words “self-destructive behavior” were imminent.

  Calista only nodded her head. “And do you plan on seeing him again?”

  Katie shook her head. “Oh no. He’s…I’m pretty sure he’s not interested in a relationship.”

  Calista cocked her head. “What makes you assume that?”

  “Because it was a mutually agreed-upon one-time thing. You know. Two people meet at a bar. Wham-bam-thank you-ma’am. We didn’t exchange phone numbers. We both went back to work when it was over and said no more about it. It was just casual sex.”

  Calista’s practiced poker face never cracked. Finally, she said, “We’ll put a pin in that for now. Tell me about work.”

  This, Katie could talk about for hours, but she only had Calista for 90 minutes a week. She launched into her humiliation over the editorial about the Waterview project, about her ideas of fixing the project. Eventually, she got to the part about the company’s most recent social gathering with the board of directors and shareholders, at which she’d gathered some scandalous gossip.

  “I can’t tell a soul this but you. But half of these men have side pieces, some of them their wives even know about! And get this, the chairman of the board told me he has a kept woman. I kept asking questions. And he just kept on sharing. He puts this woman up in a fantastic house, has paid off her student loans, gives her an allowance. They don’t even have sex! He just…is so bored with all this money and no one to spend it on. Isn’t that crazy?”

  “Is it?”

  Katie blinked and thought for a moment. She liked to give gut-reaction answers, but Calista had coached her into slowing down and thinking about the questions. “I suppose not, as long as nobody’s getting hurt. I mean, he is a widower who never remarried. But this girl is younger than his children. Imagine if they found out!”

  “I imagine he likes having a secret. The potential drama, perhaps.”

  Katie mulled that over. “Yeah. A pretty big secret. Big, big drama. Imagine.” She laughed the whole thing off but recognized the falseness in her dismissive tone. The idea intrigued her. She’d been thinking about it for weeks.

  “And what do you want?”

  “I don’t have the time for the things I want.”

  “We make time for the things we want,” Calista said with a smile.

  “What I really want is someone to be honest with me. Instead of being wary around people who want my money to grow their own wealth, invest in their lousy startup, I just want to freakin’ spoil somebody rotten with money. I want to spend money on a big-hearted person who wouldn’t even know what to do with my money, and take the gold-digging question off the table.”

  Calista looked encouraged by this development. “Then start there. Start with someone nice and big-hearted, as you say. You might find out that you’re also just as big-hearted.”

  Was it possible her therapist was actually endorsing a boy toy?

  A gentle tinkling piano music sounded from Calista’s phone. She picked it up and turned off the alarm. “And that’s our hour—same time next week.

  I look forward to hearing about your progress on the relationship front. That’s your homework.”

  The question still remained: Was her therapist telling her to act on this idea to find herself a kept man?

  Katie left without asking that question because she wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

  She only wanted to make it happen, right or wrong.

  Chapter Eleven

  Holden

  Holden could use a break.

  He shoved his house key into the lock at the shabby basement apartment he shared with his coworker and lifelong friend, Dash. Of course, the key would stick on that day.

  In January, the weather in Newcastle always made these old cheap locks more stubborn, for some reason. He made a mental note to replace the doorknobs for Mrs. Fitzgerald. Dash’s mom had stepped in in a big way after his parents’ divorce. When Stan Murphy remarried and moved to the suburbs, his mother, Diane, had started drinking heavily. Holden’s three older sisters had already grown up and moved away, having gotten themselves out
of Dockside as quickly as they could well before the divorce. The Fitzgeralds’ small three-bedroom bungalow on West Harbor Avenue became home base after school, and eventually, it became his permanent residence. Stan had a whole new family, and Holden felt strange and out of place there with a stepmom barely 12 years his senior. Diane eventually got clean, but by that time, Holden was an adult and felt like more of a Fitzgerald than he did a Murphy. Stan didn’t maintain much of a relationship with his adult son these days, but Holden left the ball in his court. As for Diane, she had passed away a couple of years back, during that one really, really, exceptionally shitty year. The same year that Dash had lost his dad. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald had been high school sweethearts, and the loss had hit everyone hard.

  Holden’s growl of frustration wasn’t helping unlock the door as he struggled with it.

  He could hardly blame Mavis one bit for wanting to move South. The weather in Newcastle could be brutal in the winter. But the Brute Squad had become too attached to her, and amid the abrupt transition, everyone had already decided they hated Declan O’Donnell.

  Holden’s day had only gotten worse after that meeting with the new boss. He wasn’t scheduled to work the bar that night, so he spent the rest of the night punching a bag at the gym. Typically, a couple of hours at the gym calmed his nerves, but he received more bad news instead. Father O’Brien, who usually met him at the gym for a quick spar in the middle of practice, was a no-show. Holden had chalked it up to some priestly duties, but he found out later that wasn’t the case at all. The gym owner, Joey, took him aside and informed him that Holden’s contract had been sold to some up-and-coming boxing manager from Miami and that Fr. O’Brien was no longer allowed to coach him since he was not a paid employee within the league.

  “The Coastal Boxing League has never cared about that kind of thing before,” Holden had protested. The vague answer he got was that the whole league was undergoing significant changes.