Happy Anniversary

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

I felt his stare from across the bar. I didn't know when he'd come in, but I sure as shit knew the minute he started looking at me, so I guessed it was about the same time. If the way my hands had been shaking for the past half an hour was to be trusted then he'd come in about half an hour ago.

I looked up, and it was like magnets pulling together. There was nowhere else to look but right at him, to feel the way his body called to mine. I tried not to smile, tried to breathe steady, but neither seemed in my power.

Bryce stood, walking with purpose toward the bar's little side swing door. I thought my heart would explode in my chest. It was one thing to see a man move when there was one thing on his mind, but it was a whole other thing to know how his muscles rippled underneath the tight blue jeans, to have felt the strength in his shoulders and hands under the black leather.

It did things to a girl, to see a man walk like that.

It did even more knowing he was yours—knowing everyone else knew it too.

Azure sat in their usual seat, perched next to the door in case they needed to come into the pit and help. Bryce bypassed them without a second glance, his arms resting on the counter closest to me.

I did my level best to ignore him, but we weren't exactly busy and there were only so many limes I could cut before my trembling was more of a hazard than a help. It was amazing, the way Bryce Nox didn't have to say a word and I was liquid putty in his hands.

It didn't help that he was a patient man, way more patient than I could ever be. He stood there, lurking, his stare hot on every inch of me, and just fucking waited . I banged the lime I was rolling down on the counter, turning to face him.

"Yes?"

He gave an imperceptible jerk of his head to the back office.

"No."

I was proud that my voice held some bite to it. I couldn't, not in good conscience, just up and leave whenever Bryce walked into the fucking bar. I had a job, for Christ's sake, and for all intents and purposes was acting as the manager. I couldn't just be up and—

I made the mistake of peeking in his direction again. My knees nearly buckled. He was like a panther, leather, magnetic, and prowling, but I wasn't sure I didn't want to be his victim. That was a lie; I knew I did.

He still had bruises on his face, half healed, purple and blue on the corner of his temple. I thought about the blood on his hands and wished, from some godforsaken part of me, that he were still bloody and that he could shove his fingers into my mouth so I could taste the metallic tang while he fucked me.

His lips were a lazy slant of expectancy, the dazed, heated look in his eyes molten and crushing against the flimsy excuse of professionalism I wasn't even too keen myself to maintain.

He looked at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking, and it was both cruel and unusual punishment for me to have to be the one who tried keeping it together when I had so little self-control to begin with when it came to him.

"Bryce." My head dropped against my shoulders, the name a pleading, desperate sound that I wasn't sure meant I was begging him to convince me or leave me alone.

Azure, whose eyes had been ping-ponging between us, made a disgusted sound. "Alex!"

I couldn't look at them, not now when I could feel Bryce's fingers between my thighs, when I knew how thick and filling they would be. When all I could think about was the last time I had been bent over the desk with him.

I pulled the rag from my pocket in the hopes that doing something, anything , might help my resolve, but as surely as the lie slipped into my psyche, I was wiping lemon and lime juice off of my fingers, heart skipping in my chest.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck at Azure's accusing stare. "Alex."

"Ten minutes," I placated, then pointed to Bryce. "You hear me? Ten minutes."

His smile was a crescent of the sun across the morning waves. I knew the minute I got close enough I would be able to taste the sea salt on his skin. I could taste it now, and it had been hours since we last were together.

"Christ," Azure muttered, removing themselves from the barstool to take my place at the bar.

I sent them an apologetic, please don't hate me look but the minute I was close enough, Bryce gripped my wrist and it didn't matter if the whole world was against me. Not so long as I had him touching me like this.

His grip was firm, hot, and rough against the soft skin of my wrist as he pulled me along. The fact he hadn't said a word made it feel all the more electric. I was coming to find that silent Bryce was rough, demanding in a way that left me dizzy and addicted. It usually meant he was holding on to a leash of control that bordered on violence in the most delicious way.

It should scare me, this Bryce, who came home at all hours from working his new position as Vosco's head of security. When he dragged himself through the door, dripping in blood, tracking it through his apartment like mud on his boots.

Instead, it sent a thrill through me; knowing he'd fuck me with those fingers, kiss me until the blood mixed with sweat and cum, and it didn't even matter who it was from, because they likely weren't alive anymore to begin with.

Sex had always been violent for me, but for once, it was on my own terms, and I reveled in the destruction.

He pushed me through the doorway, his hands on my hips, pulling at my shorts before the door even closed all the way.

"Bryce! You have to lock the door!"

He ignored me, the fucker. The idea of it being unlocked, even when it was just me, Az, and Crystal…

Weekdays were slow, and technically overstaffed as it was, but knowing the bathroom door was right across from us and anyone could walk in had my clit throbbing in the most uncivilized way, I could barely think straight.

Bryce nipped at my neck, his fingers unbuttoning my shorts, jerking them down until he was squatting between my thighs.

My breath rushed out, caught in my throat at the thought of having him down there like that. He adjusted himself, settling on his knees, bright blue eyes an ocean of thoughts I couldn't decipher.

I'd never seen him so playful without speaking. I decided it thrilled me as much as it was disconcerting.

"Bryce?"

I touched his shoulder, my nails raking through his hair. He made a little sound of appreciation, and I wondered for the first time if I might like to see him like this more often—on his knees, that is.

But the thought brought the reality of it down in a way that left me strangely insecure, to be so fully open to him.

He peeled my legs apart, his lips trailing up my body from my ankle to my knee, his tongue swiping up, teeth nipping as he got to the soft, pillowy skin of my thighs.

His name became a soft whisper on my lips, a shaken and tentative sound the wider I opened. I couldn't help it, not when his mouth was hot and wet, so fucking close.

My ass sat on the edge of the desk, the cold wood digging in until he had me leaning back, grinding against the air, desperate for him to just fucking touch me.

"Daddy," I breathed, "Please, fuck—"

His teeth were blunt but sharp, and by God if he didn't rub himself against my core. The stubble of his cheek was prickling at the sensitive skin. I felt him breathe me in. His groan made my stomach flip.

His tongue was on me before I could register what I was feeling. Hot breath against the slickness of his tongue spreading me apart.

I gripped the wood, my hips bucking against his face, his laugh, and the cold press of something in the middle of his tongue that I knew hadn't been there this morning when he'd dropped me off at work.

His arms wrapped up around my thighs, caging me there against his face. I was breathless, panting, the hazy light above me the only thing I could see. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out anything but that little ball of ice against my throbbing clit, feeling it circle the sensitive nub with every jerk of my body.

I wanted to laugh, to cry, to cackle against the feeling of pleasure, but it swept me under, pulling at the edges of my sanity and everything that made me human. Dios , it felt like being swept in a tsunami that wouldn't let go, that held you down while he had his way with you.

My hips moved of their own accord, my stomach tensing with the movements, only bringing me that much closer to a glorious pitch I couldn't describe or touch but felt in my bones. Bryce moaned the harder I ground against him, gripped into my thighs and hips, digging deeper.

His lips were thick, plush against me with each kiss, until he was sucking hard on my clit, the barbell of his new tongue ring a hard ridge, rubbing. I screamed, felt the pressure build inside my chest, and pop under his tongue, under the moans that mixed with laughter.

I couldn't be bothered with embarrassment or propriety, not when his fingers joined the fray, his tongue flat against me, fingers curling inside of me.

He pushed me back with his body, and I let him because why the hell not when he was giving me something that felt so fucking glorious. His fingers were long, thick, and hot against the slickness between my thighs.

He pumped them inside of me, his thumb pressing me open, and he didn't stop licking, not until I was shaking, my fingers grasping at the edges of the desk, legs curling around him like I could crawl inside of his skin.

The bubble popped into liquid gold that dripped onto his hungry tongue, his lips and teeth nipping, slowing.

My vision felt unfocused, sharp to the point of unseeing as Bryce stood up, bringing my shorts back up with him. He buttoned me up, placing little kisses against my tummy as he did. My body jerked with the movement, the stimulation of the denim against my swollen, sensitive skin too much.

He gripped my throat with his hand, his arm reaching under me to pull me up to a sitting position. Thankfully he seemed content to hold my weight because I didn't think I could actually balance myself yet.

His smile was crooked, dark, and so fucking delicious, knowing I knew that if I wasn't already red from the straining of my body, I would be blushing. As it was, my chest was already hot and panting.

He waggled his tongue out, showing me the bright silver bar. "You like it?"

"Yes," I breathed, head lolling back on a laugh. "Very much."

"Good. It's your anniversary present."

I looked at him, smiling, but confused.

"It's been a week since we kissed." He waggled his eyebrows. "I thought it deserved celebrating."

A week since we'd kissed.

I laughed, and it was bright, bubbling champagne in my veins. I loved this man. This hulking giant who had blood on his hands for me, who killed and maimed for me .

I loved him, and there was no getting around that, no going back.

I kissed him—just to seal the deal. Because he was right, it did deserve celebrating. And I was going to take every fucking win I could get.

Want more Daddy Bryce? Start from the beginning with PortCity Sinners.