3. Dirty Mouth and Good Hands

THREE

DIRTY MOUTH AND GOOD HANDS

Alive and Unwell, Leah Kate

Roe

This guy, who I don’t even know, not that it matters , is kissing me without reservation. Lips on mine, hand behind my neck and the other one on the door, framing my face. I open to him and he slides his tongue in without hesitation. If the assumption that tattooed, good-looking men know how to kiss was a doubt, it’s a confirmation now. This man knows what he’s doing, with his hands, his lips, his tongue.

Usually I’m attracted to all the bad boys, the walking red flags, and this guy is no different. There is something about the broodiness and the back-and-forth banter that gets me going every time. His dark caramel eyes and strong arms had me more distracted than I can afford to be, so something had to be done about it.

The bar takes some of my time, but in between racing moto this season and all the unknowns about which class I’m racing, I have some pent-up energy that needs to be released. One-night stands often do it for me. They might not get me off in the moment, but they get me going. Then I can go home and bust one off, think of it like foreplay for a solo event.

“Where did you go, little doll?” he asks with confusion in his eyes. I guess I was lost in thought. When I look at him and don’t say anything, he smirks and adds, “I must be doing something wrong if I can’t keep your attention with my tongue.”

Ouch. This guy speaks his mind even when it won’t earn him brownie points. My thoughts do wander sometimes. But if he knew I was thinking about how I need a release and he’s the vessel getting me there, he might appreciate it. Most guys are happy to get an easy lay. I don’t require much to pretend I’m done. And I never ask for any form of contact. Easy. No mess.

“If you wanted to get me naked, you just needed to ask. No need to act all tough,” he says looking at me expectantly. When I stay quiet, he asks, “Where did the sass go? Did I leave you speechless?”

“How about you kiss me and show me how my sass made you feel?”

“There she is,” he says, before sealing my mouth with a kiss.

His lips are on mine and his hands are everywhere on my body. I try to get closer to him but he’s like a damn tree, and I practically have to stand on my tiptoes to reach him. His head is lowered, and he must sense me struggling because his hands go under my ass and he lifts me up, pressing me against the door. My legs wrap around him, making me feel all of him against me. The way he holds me against the door is effortless.

My hands roam his hard chest, going lower until they’re under his shirt. I pull it up to try and take it off but he stops me. He breaks the kiss momentarily to take it all the way off. Removing the shirt with just one hand, he lets me lean against the door giving me time to appreciate his upper body. He’s hot, I’ll give him that.

He catches me staring and says with a smirk, “Like what you see, little doll?”

“I’m nobody’s doll,” I sass back.

“Mm, we’ll see about that,” he growls before pulling my tank top up.

I usually don’t wear bras, so my breasts are out the moment he takes my shirt off. I grew up hating my body. Too small, too skinny, not enough curves, you name it. But I have worked hard to love every inch of me so I don’t cover myself. In fact, I lower my hands from his neck and touch myself, going from my neck down my breasts, to my belly. He still keeps my body between himself and the door. He looks down and mutters something in another language that I cannot pick out before letting his mouth get back on mine hungrily.

His body is rock hard against me and the way he’s kissing me is causing me to make indecent sounds. My hands go back to his neck, lacing my fingers behind his head. I pull him closer to me, opening my mouth to allow him more access and moaning against his lips. I’m so lost in the kiss that I almost miss the sounds of the door lock system and I freeze.

A couple of my employees have a key fob to get into the office, but they usually only come in if I’m needed on the floor. The bar is busy but I’m fully staffed tonight so it shouldn’t be an issue. Our heavy breathing sounds even louder in the quiet space alongside the rattling of the handle. We don’t speak; we don’t move but Whiskey Guy keeps the door shut with his hands.

“Roe? Are you there?” Jackson asks while pounding on the door.

I open my mouth to reply but this guy shakes his head no while putting a finger on my lips, silently hushing me.

“Roe, if you’re in there, we need you out here now. There’s a fight,” he adds before letting go of the handle.

Fuck my life.

“I have to go,” I say to this guy, wiggling so he can put me down. He does and squats down to grab my tank top and hand it to me. I put it on and look at him. He’s standing there, a little dumbfounded and shirtless. His chest is broad, with tattoos spreading across his pecs, sternum, and ribs. I admire how good they look and my hands itch to add more ink to them. So many pieces I could work with on his skin, but I don’t have time for that right now. I need to go figure out what the fuck is happening out there.

“It’s a shame. You look like you would’ve been fun for a minute,” I add before winking at him and slipping out the door.