she created. I didn’t care for social media, so I didn’t know dick about filters or whatever the hell she was talking about, but this looked professional. She was smiling brightly in the photo, glass in hand with the Saluzzo Reserve logo facing the camera. I realized she wanted me to move to the left because I’d been standing in front of the giant Brooklyn Armor House sign hanging on the rock wall behind me, right in the center of the bar.
I was speechless.
“With a place like this,” she went on, glancing around the room, “in a city like this, social media is key. Love it or hate it, it’s the fastest way to spread the word these days. If you want that label to sell, get some people Instagramming and tweeting the hell out of it.”
Slapping her phone down on the bar, I hauled myself over it and onto her side. She squeaked adorably when I was suddenly right in front of her.
“Gorgeous and a fucking genius.” I stepped between the legs she opened just for me. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
She hummed in consideration. “Fuck me on top of your sparkly new bar?”
I braced my hands on the bar, trapping her between my arms, shirt sleeves rolled up to my forearms. “How about on my sparkly new barstool?”
This time, she squealed with laughter as I picked her up, spun us around, and traded her places on the stool. She sat right on top of my steel rod dick, legs straddling, pussy inviting.
“Ready to take this baby for a spin, legs?”
Arousal inundated my body.
Feeling Nico’s mighty erection connect with my femininity sent liquid heat cascading over me like a waterfall. The moment was heady with anticipation. The air between our bodies snapped, crackled, and popped with urgent, impatient desire. It had been that way ever since he’d finally thrust inside me the night before. Nico was impatient when it came to slaking his lusts, and I hadn’t been faring much better.
I’d only made it worse by sleeping in my own bed after we’d returned home from the strip club. When he’d started dragging me off to his room, I’d panicked.
“I think we should take this slow,” I’d insisted as we’d stood outside our bedrooms.
He’d gaped at me in disbelief. “We’re already married. I’m not sure slow is even an option at this point.”
“You know what I mean. We might technically be married and living with each other, but this doesn’t have to be different than any other dating situation.”
His face had hardened, as if he hadn’t liked the comparison between him and others at all. “It is different than other situations. We’re different.”
I’d placed a light kiss on his lips, pulling back before he could take it deeper and change my mind. “Still. Let’s not move too fast, okay? Humor me.”
He’d released a heavy sigh. “Fine. So, we’re like, dating now?”
I’d been relieved when I hadn’t detected any fear or disgust in his voice. Again, just impatience.
“We don’t have to call it anything. Let’s just do what we’ve been doing—”
“Except I get to have you whenever I want now,” he’d cut in firmly. Vehemently.
“Yes. With the addition of that.”
“What if I want you now?”
“Then I ought to get it extra rough tomorrow.” I’d left him with one final kiss that was full of promise.
“Remember what I said to you last night?” I asked him as my mind drifted back to the present.
His pupils dilated. “You want it rough, legs?”
Biting my lower lip, I nodded.
“Show me where you want it rough, then.”
Adjusting my position on his lap, I spread my legs wider and lifted my dress. I was infinitely glad I’d opted for my knee-high socks rather than wool tights, as this allowed for much easier access. His hands went to my thighs to keep the dress hiked up, giving him a better view. He leaned back against the bar, jaw slackening as I nudged my panties out of the way and ran my finger along my opening.
“Is that where I go?” he murmured, attention focused on where I played with myself. As if he couldn’t stop himself, his thumb snaked out to help me rub my throbbing clit. “So tiny.”
My forehead bumped against his on a moan as he expertly worked me over. “Nico. Right there.”
His groan was pure masculine satisfaction. “Yeah, your man knows right where.”
My heart did a few cartwheels at his willingness to call himself mine. His eagerness. He was admitting