Gangster Too-Shorts

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The night was warm, the two teams plastered over all our TVs were already a minute into overtime, and the local crew walked in.

Their manners weren’t any worse than the ones already here, and what was best about them as customers was they mostly showed up when they had a flood of cash to spare.

Two of us filling pitchers of beer eyed them hungrily. No one needed to say anything, their usual table was cleared out quickly.

Two of them gestured at us for a moment before the only man to have stirred any interest in me whistled and beckoned me. They were all still laughing over whatever had happened elsewhere.

My coworker almost pouted, and after nodding at him, I dropped off the pitcher quickly.

He smirked at me for not immediately going over, and it was still there on his lips as I easily picked my way towards him, enjoying the view.

Slicked back hair, dark and glossy like a raven’s wing. I don’t think the style was fully intentional, but it lined up really well with his face, the slightly crooked curve of his nose.

Shiny gold snake chain, with a diamond-studded crown over his heart. His fingers decked out for pain, a modestly priced watch on one thick wrist, in case it flew off.

Sleek black shades wrapped around a face that was as unreadable as it was handsome. A single scar dented his left cheek from above his brow, and I wondered if he wore shades because it was empty.

He was interesting; didn’t brag or yell even though he’d release a savage grin occasionally. Kept his hands to himself and his ballsiest friends in line, at least with me.

But as one of only four employees in the packed sports bar tonight, my attention could not revolve around one person, and so I brought his table as many rounds as they ordered, put up with a few stray hands that he tipped me for, while keeping my other people happy as well.

Someone would always pay up, I guessed it was his turn tonight. He made sure I tugged every bill out of his hand, not facing my direction but making me take an extra second by his side.

I was hot and sweaty and very much soaking my underwear only an hour after he’d arrived, and he’d only ordered drinks and made me tug his money out of his hand, which he held close to his body.

They were gone after a while and I assumed he left with them, but I was quickly swamped, and easily put it out of my mind one more night.

Maybe he’d show up again tomorrow.

The last rush of the night always left my head spinning. It took the bar being almost empty and the lights coming on for me to realize he was still sitting in his spot.

The same coworker who had been filling pitchers with me put her head near mine as we finished cleaning the tables of the closed section.

Her voice was low enough, near enough in my ear, that it raised the hairs on my arms.

“Bitch, if you don’t take him home, I will.”

My breath exploded out of me in a dirty laugh. “Maybe, baby. I could picture you between his sheets. Screaming.”

She didn’t expect that, and giggled before taking me up on it, “Don’t mind if I do, then! He’s a total Daddy.”

“Oh yeah, Daddy, harder!” I teased her, and her eyes went wide even as she kept laughing.

“Is THAT how you like it, butterfly?”

His voice behind me jerked a muscle near my spine, and I tried my best to suppress it so it didn’t look like I was shaking my ass.

Instead, I laughed, caught in the act, and watched her step away with another pout before I decided to turn around.

He stood far enough away that he wouldn’t get in trouble, but only just. He wasn’t smiling.

“What I do and don’t like shouldn’t concern you. We’re about to close,” I hinted, and turned back around to collect my dish rag.

He grunted in amusement.

Took a pen from my hair and easily grabbed the hand I’d raised to snatch it back. His firm grasp didn’t hurt as he wrote over my veins. It tickled, but I was also speechless that he would.

What I could see of his face was calm and almost pleased.

Standing so close, and with the bar this empty, his cologne wrapped around me like every temptation I’d dreamed, the feathery swirls of his writing making it look like he was drawing something that needed a tattoo gun.

That got a smirk out of me. I saw both the phone number and the illusion. He had a really good hand, despite the callouses across his knuckles.

“How many girls did you practice that on?” I asked bluntly.

The capped end of my pen booped my nose before he stuck it back in my hair with, “Not how many, how long. Text me.”

He walked away before he could see me turn every shade of red possible.

Smooth fucking criminal.

I bit my tongue and heard a squeal from the direction of the work station she was pretending to wipe down. My hands got back to doing what they should.

“Not helping,” I told her as I heard the front door close for the last time today, but we all finished quickly despite their teasing. I almost wanted to sit on his lap the next time he showed up, just to get them to shut up.

The drive home had never seemed so long before. I desperately wanted a shower and some alone time.

My skin still burned from the electrifying touch of his fingers, and I was careful not to mess up his art. I barely made it to my bed, before the hand he’d held was sliding in between my wide open legs.

Would he tease me or would he test me? And then probably just get his rocks off and leave...

Now a ruined fantasy thanks to my brain, I flipped through my head for another thing to get me to cum. For a moment, all I could focus on was the pleasure.

Then the memory of his voice slithered into my present moment.

Is THAT how you like it, butterfly?

My thoughts went back to the peek of scar, the slicked hair, the impermanent tattoo that I’d carefully washed around, fingers flicking faster.

Not how many, how long...

Hips finally jerking like I’d suppressed earlier, I rode my orgasm with delicious moans that made me wish I’d at least known his name.

Text me.

Hmm... I had his number...

Reaching for my phone in what I can only defend as lust-blindness, I typed out a new message.

You tattooed me, and didn’t even tell me your name...

A few seconds later I got a reply: You didn’t either. Where you at?

I debated telling him.

I REALLY wanted to tell him, but then I thought better of it, but then there was the insistent ache between my legs, and yet it was probably not a good idea to actually go through with allowing a thug into my home, but I hadn’t felt this way about any guy, but he probably wasn’t a good person to get involved with...?

Shit, I’d already started texting him. What had I done?

Okay, girl, play it cool.

At home. Does that mean I won’t get your name?

Minutes passed, and I was worried he’d maybe turn into a stalker. Ugh, why did I do that? I should have washed it off.

Well shit I’d tell you my name but I can’t afford to have you screaming it...

My hand went right back in between my legs.

I was still debating, but he was warming up one side of the fence and the memory of the way he smelled dangled in front of me like a damn carrot for a horse.

Sultry, sexy, edged with hard sweat. I’d like to ride him after a long day, have him lay back for me and show him some love for working so hard...

I was moaning as his next text chimed in: You’re taking too long. Are you doing what I think you’re doing?

But I was almost there and figured he could wait a few more seconds for the answer.

I was wrong.

He called.

The surprise had my eyes squeezing shut for my orgasm, my hand clenching the phone on a sighing moan of release.

Maybe I’d answ-

“I thought so. For real, where you at?”

The voice on speaker had me gasping, my hand jerking away from myself.

“Oh, shit!”

His laughter was cut off as I pushed the speaker button on purpose this time.

Then I sighed, putting the phone to my ear.

“I’m not sure it would be a good idea to tell you where I live,” I admitted.

The new laugh in my ear was dirty, and drew a wistful sound out of me for being so close in my ear, when he’d never physically been there. I bit my lip.

“I just wanna fuck your brains out, can you handle that?”

My groan told him I was tempted.

"Tell me where to find that soaking pussy. Why are you denying us both? You got a man?”

“No,” I answered, “that’s part of the problem.”

“Well let me be your solution, then...!”

I blew out a breath.

Bit my lip again and reached my hand between my legs.

“Just one night...?”

“Yeah, sure, if you want.”

“And then you forget about me...?” I moaned on a sigh. I could feel how wet the sound of his voice made me.

He laughed dirty again. “I doubt that.”

And then as I stroked another orgasm out of myself, I told him my address.

He didn’t stay on the line long enough to hear me finish, so I dissolved into giggles as I floated back down. I’d made a booty call.

To a gangster, no less.

Not ten minutes later, I heard the soft banging on my door. Probably the side of his fist, I didn’t hear rings or knuckles.

It jerked the muscles near my lower spine, and I threw on a long shirt to safely open the door.

He stood there without his shades, and though it was dark out, it was not as dark as the pools of black in his face.

I finally saw that the eye had a scratch in the middle, like a small slit pupil in the hellish void. To be fair, it must have made it insufferably harder to see so the comparison was appropriate.

His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it.

We stood there drinking each other in, acknowledging the moment. Me, only in a single item of clothing with my damp hair. He, in the same pants and shoes as earlier but with a plain over-sized shirt.

There was a sleek black beast parked behind my modest model and I bit my lip.

Everything about him was sexy.

Then I stepped aside so he’d come in, and he moved around me as I closed it, pushed me against my door as I locked it. Going for a few kisses against the side of my neck, with his hands pushing up on my thinly covered tits, turning my breath into a moan with his caresses.

“God, you sounded so good on the phone,” he groaned under my ear, grinding into my ass, “but this sounds better.”

"You,” I countered, “make me so damn wet, player.”

I turned in his arms, mouth coming to his.

He made a sound of approval, then let go to pull his shirt over his head. Noticed the shoes by the door and kicked his off, as my own hands reached for the back of my shirt to pull it over.

It delighted me to hear him hum, as fingers that were lightly bent chased the edge of the material over my naked body. Like he was more accustomed to making people hurt with his fists and now was finding it hard to uncurl them.

I let the garment fall from limp fingers, my eyes glued to the way he sucked his lip between his teeth to bite, the ravenous gaze that followed his hands back down my arms, trailing over the swells of my breasts, the backs of his fingers sliding under my hard nipples to tease the naturally stained skin underneath.

It squeezed the breath out of me.

My arms lowered around his neck and I pressed myself against his chest to kiss him again, loving the feel of his electrifying hot skin, the cool metal of his chain in the middle of it all making my nipples harden to the point of pain.

That earlier tease of smell now hit me like I was smothered in hot fights and steamy luxury, and I found myself pulling him deep into my lungs.

His burning lips were soft and scarred, and they pulled away to say something but came back for more before the words could distract his mind from the long-awaited pleasure. Lightly curled hands pulled my hips closer as they slid behind me in big circles, pushing my ass around and side to side as he fitted his whole body with mine.

Then he tilted his head for me, turning our kiss into an affair in itself. The missing tooth only made me want to find out what his bite would look like on my skin. Just one.

I moaned low, relaxing against him, feeling my breath shorten from the way we were sharing our air.

He pulled away from the kiss reluctantly, after failing twice, and whispered against my lips, “Where’s your bed, butterfly?”

“Mm, this way.”

I moved in the direction of my bedroom and he released me to step away for the shirt he’d dropped earlier. So I grabbed the hand that didn’t sling his shirt over his shoulder and pulled him through my house.

He shoved me onto my bed, face-first.

I twisted my head to see him reaching behind to draw his gun, but he only set it down on the small step-stool I used as a nightstand. The shirt followed to cover it loosely.

Looking back at his eyes, he watched me wave my hips in the air as he undressed but then, as he was taking too long, I slipped a finger over my clit.

And slipped it over the wet bud again when his eyes became stuck.

Again and again, I stroked myself in front of him, moaning some more, anticipating the moment that wasn’t here yet.

His hands slowed down as he was sliding off his boxers, giving me something to look at, as well.

The way he slid the waistband off had his thick curve slapping back up against his happy trail. I let him see that I was already imagining what we were about to do, while I pleased myself in front of him.

His narrowed eyes, the tilt of his head as he grunted with pleasure while standing fully erect, warned me of something but I wasn’t sure what.

Then his mouth was on me and my eyes slipped closed on a long moan.

His tongue slipped inside my slit, around my slippery entrance, hands spreading the backs of my thighs wider as he helped me reach climax in record time.

He moaned and hummed, his tongue deep inside me still rubbing sweetly to keep me going.

Then he sucked my cum and I bounced on his pleased face while I panted.

“Hmm, yeah,” I sighed when he pulled away, my ass in the air while the rest of my body lay on my bed in orgasmic bliss. “I didn’t think you’d do that...”

I looked back at him again when the bed shifted, only to see him slam into me.

The feeling closed my eyes and the moan I gave him felt raw alongside the hum of a man who had tasted something delicious.

“I’d do it all, with you. If you let me.”

I stretched my hands above me for the wall, to push back against him.

His hands wrapped around the top of my thighs with a groan as he pulled out to do it again, and I shoved his slide harder with a whine.

“Fuck yeah, little butterfly. You wanted it that bad?”

I thrust back onto him again, my fantasies nowhere close to the reality of his hard flesh moving inside, his hot thighs behind mine, scrappy hands curled around my bent hips so I wouldn’t move too far away.


As if I’d want to go anywhere else.

But he kept his thrusts slow and hard, and my moans started to sound more like I was running.

“Reach down for it,” he purred, and my hand knew exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, just like that, you look so good, butterfly...”

It threw my head back as I came all over him, and he blew out a breath, quickening his pace.

I still hadn’t stopped because I wanted him to feel every bit as good as I was feeling, and the pleasure levels had my back melting into my mattress.

"This right here,” I moaned softly, ”Mmm...”

He groaned again, one hand coming up to the wall above me. The angle made me spread my legs wider with a whimper on every smack of hips, and we stopped using words for a moment as we sought his pleasure.

But he didn’t cum, and I found myself wanting to turn around to see his face. He was clearly still hard. Did he take a pill?

“What’s this, butterfly? You done already?”

The muscle in my spine jerked and he hummed pleasantly, but I still twisted around to ask, “Are you on something?”

The hand still on my hip reached over to my face, and I went to his kiss eagerly. Now that I knew what he felt like, I didn’t want to say No.

But he only rubbed my lips, slowing down so I sighed for every slicked push.

“Yeah, YOU. You got me all kinds of fucked up.”

I moaned, and he chuckled softly. His kiss had one of my hands reaching for his head.

We fell slowly, twisted, twisting, moving limbs and backs to finally have him above me, between my legs.

He slipped inside again as I was wrapping a leg behind him, and I bit my lip with a sigh that he matched. His arms slid around me in a hug that made me happy even though he was sliding out.

I knew another thrust was coming.

The expression on his face warned me he was about to fuck me in the heart.

“From the first time I saw your wings across the room, butterfly,” he rumbled softly, slowly filling me up.

Pulled out to the head. Those eyes like polished jet were unsure if it was a good idea, but about to anyway.

“And I waited for you,” he continued, slicking back inside as I blushed. “You never showed up with a man,” he left me empty, “and you never picked one up,” his thrust picked my hips up as I moved with him. “Why’s that, I wonder...”

I hummed against his lips, smiling through a kiss that left me wanting more.

“I was waiting for you,” I said just as softly, loving the possessiveness that crept into his face.

His next thrust was less gentle, shoving a good sound out of me.

“You know I’m coming back to this, right?”

“Hmm... You better.”

I wet him even more, and tightened my arms and legs around the way he started taking his pleasure.

His eyes were serious again.

So were mine.

“All of it, player?” I asked, my voice climbing.

He smiled.

“Wylan. And you best keep it to yourself, butterfly.”

“Mm-hmm,” I moaned behind closed lips, squeezing him everywhere I could as we moved together.

“Now let me hear your pleasure, and we can talk some more in the morning..."
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