My 3 Rockstar Bosses - Page 195
“No, I’m not dry. Well, I am, but not by choice. Because I’m not twenty-one yet,” she confessed. “So I can’t drink legally.”
Aw shit. I’d forgotten. We’re playing with an innocent teen, one who hasn’t even lived two decades yet. Fuck fuck fuck. By contrast, I was a forty-five year old hardened male, who’s been drinking since age fifteen. My cock twitched, entranced b
y her naiveté.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure they wouldn’t card you here. Trust me, they’re too busy,” I said, looking around.
“Maybe not,” the brunette acknowledged. “But I’d be so embarrassed if they did. Because when was the last time you were carded?” she asked. “Probably not in forever right?”
Fuck, probably not in three decades. Because I’ve always looked older than my real age, huge and hulking by sixteen. So yeah, carding was a thing of the distant past.
“They’ll serve me, I’m sure,” she said, smiling again. “But I just don’t want to risk it because getting carded would be too humiliating.”
But I didn’t give a fuck if we broke the law. Hell, she could take sips of my beer if she wanted. And at that moment, the bartender reappeared, two long frosty glasses of amber liquid. The iced tea and IPA didn’t look so different, come to think of it.
“Cheers sweetheart,” I growled, clinking glasses with her. “Bottoms up.”
Joanie smiled back at me.
“Cheers Mr. North. Thank you for making sure I had an amazing day,” she mewled sweetly.
A lump formed in my throat even as I sipped at the beer. Because it’d been an amazing day for both of us. It’d been so long since I forgot my cares and just let go, enjoying what the city had to offer.
But a bar is a bar, and lo and behold, the fucker on the stool next to Joanie turned then, eyeing that beautiful body.
“Hey girl,” he rasped. “How goes?”
Unbelievable. Did this douche not see me? Did he not see the massive male behind her, ready to beat his brain into a pulp?
But the slimy jerk just wouldn’t stop, ignoring me though I was mere inches away. The city’s got so many guys like this one. Sleazy weasels, hair overly gelled with big biceps but chicken legs underneath. What a loser.
But my girl is kind and she smiled back.
“Hi, I’m Joanie. This is Nick,” she said, gesturing to me. My glower only got more ominous, but the weasel still wouldn’t make eye contact.
“Hey, I’m Howard,” he said. “You new to town?”
Joanie laughed, her perfect profile tipping back a bit.
“I am,” she confessed. “How can you tell?”
And this Howard dude went for it then. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he said, “The stars in your eyes chickadee. They shine like the sun.”
I shook my head. This was so fucking stupid. His line was lame beyond belief, and I was tempted to rip off his head, right here, right now. But Joanie went along with it, and she laughed lightly again.
“I see,” she said. “Well, nice talking to you Howard.”
But the weasel just wouldn’t let go. He swiveled on his bar stool, eyes intent on that curvy form and started to talk on and on about sights to see in the City, where the get the best deals, where to get the best meals, spewing words like vomit.
And lo and behold, Howard actually was a tour guide.
“I run the Red Bus Company,” he proclaimed proudly, puffing up like a penguin. “You see those double decker red buses around town with sightseers sitting on the top level? That’s me. I give those tours, and sweetheart, I’d love to be your guide,” he said lowering his voice and winking lasciviously.
This was so comical as to be ridiculous now. Because a real threat was one thing. But a penguin slash weasel slash professional tour guide? Please motherfucker. You have no idea how the big boys play.
And with that, I did it. I’m a dirty asshole. Real nasty, with my mind in the gutter 24/7. So as Howard prattled on and on, his voice a monologue, I decided to mark my female. Oh yeah, right there in the crowded, darkened bar, I decided to brand this beautiful girl with my jizz.
My hands rested lightly on her hips, scooching the female backwards on the stool a bit. The brunette turned to look at me inquisitively, but moved back a bit so that that big butt hung off the edge of the stool. Perfect.
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