More by Mysti Holiday

“Bar’s closed,” Penelope called and started clearing glassware, full and empty.

“Aww, Penny,” muttered good old Lance, grabbing for his glass to take one last swig of his beer. “When are you going to give all this up and marry me?”

She laughed and patted the old man on the hand. “This is my dream job, you old scamp, you know that.” She helped him of the bar stool, walked him to the door and into the waiting arms of a cabbie, just like she had every night that week. Same old, same old. Penny liked routine.

She closed the door and locked it, leaning against it with a sigh. Her dogs were barking and she’d give her left elbow for a massage about now. “As if that’s going to happen,” she murmured. All she had to look forward to was a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, an old movie and some sex with her battery-operated boyfriend.

If she wasn’t so worried about mixing business with pleasure, she’d hit on her boss. Damn, he was hot. And smart. And funny.

And her boss, she reminded herself again. She limped back to the bar and filled the dishwasher with glassware. Once that was running she covered the garnish tray and walked back to the fridge to put it away. A glance over one shoulder at the line of light under the office door told her Shane was still working, tallying up the cash, getting tomorrow’s order ready, using that amazing brain of his. There wasn’t one thing about him that didn’t turn her on. Except his job title.

She hurried back to the bar and leaned against the vibrating dishwasher, wiping her suddenly sweaty hands down her blouse, letting her palms linger over her instantly hard nipples. What would it feel like if it were he touching her there? Would he be gentle? She caressed her tits with slow, circling movements. Or just a little rough? She pinched them both lightly, giving a little gasp at the sensation that shot through her.

Yeah, naughty and a little intense. That would be Shane’s M.O. She ran one hand down her groin, rubbing herself through her skirt, letting the friction of the damp satin against her clit send shivers down her spine. She turned to face the bar and pressed herself against the washer, the soft vibration making her tremble. She unbuttoned her blouse, just enough so she could slip a wet fingertip inside and circle first one nipple then the other, still picturing Shane’s hands, Shane’s body against her. She couldn’t keep the soft moan from slipping out of her throat.

She started to work herself through the cotton fabric when a calloused hand covered hers, stopping all movement. She froze, horrified at being caught in her fantasy.

A puff of breath caressed the nape of her neck and firm lips moved against her ear. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Shane.

“I—” Penny’s words were cut off when his teeth scraped against the skin of her neck and his other hand circled her waist, tugging her shirt from the waistband.

The reality of Shane’s touch was better than any fantasy, and her resolve to maintain the employee/employer barrier was tossed away. He swung her around to the back bar rail and yanked her shirt off her body.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath in her ear making her cunt ooze with cream. “Just look.” He pulled her hair, lifting her head up.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her reflection in the bar mirror—flushed, aroused, lips parted, panting with passion. And then she saw him, and his already brown eyes were dark with emotion. “More…” she managed and he took her at her word, suddenly desperate.

His hands were everywhere, brushing, squeezing, flicking and then they grabbed the hem of her skirt and yanked it to her waist. With one sharp tug, he tore her satin thong off and plunged two fingers inside. She came in one sharp cry, rocking her hips against his hand.

“More!” she screamed and turned to face him, unzipping his pants to release his rock-hard dick. He reached into a side drawer and grabbed a handful of the condoms she kept there for customers. She took one from him and rolled it on, enjoying the low moan he gave as she encircled him and gave a couple thrusts with her hand.

“More,” he said, a small smile on his face, and he lifted her onto the counter. With one quick move, he plunged into her. Bottles fell from the shelves to bounce on the rubber floor, but nothing but Shane held her attention. He slammed into her over and over and kissed her just as hard, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock, in and out, until she thought she’d die from all the sensations ripping through her.

He put his hand between them and pressed her clit, vibrating it in little circles until she cried out in release. Only then did he speed up his movements, one, two, three times more until a moan and a shudder announced his completion.

He hugged her tightly, laying his face on her bare chest. “Am I dead?”

She laughed, low in her throat. “Could be, because I sure think I’m in heaven.”

He tipped his face back and looked her right square in the eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day I hired you nineteen months and eleven days ago.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You did? What stopped you?”

“You did. You made it clear in the interview that you did not fraternize. I like you, Penny. You’re hot, but you’re smart and you have a wicked sense of humor. I respected what you asked.”

“Until tonight. Thank God.” She rubbed his back, not wanting him to move away.

“Until tonight.” He pulled her hands away from his shoulders and held them in his. “Come home with me.”

“Tonight?”

He shook his head. “Every night. I want more.”

She grinned. “More is good.” She leaned in and grabbed his lower lip in her teeth giving it a nip before sucking it into her mouth and watching his eyes darken again. She released his mouth long enough to murmur, “I like more.”

About the Author: Mysti Holiday is the pseudonym of a SAHM who dreams of warm climes and hot bodies. She’s married to a wonderful man who happily offers himself for research, and she spends most of her days dreaming of uncomfortable situations in which to place her characters. Visit her website at http://www.menagerieauthors.com

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