5. A Wingman Too Many
Leila walked into the bar a little after happy hour had ended. She hated the brand of man that happy hour brought in. Cheap, cheesy and looking for a quick fuck. Emphasis on the quick. They were usually minutemen.
She almost wished Jared was with her. He made a great wing-‘woman’ as he was so flamboyant after a couple of drinks, people would watch their interactions with amused expressions.
“Manhattan, no fruit,” she told the bartender when the man came up to her. She hated the little girly cherry that so many places popped in the middle of their cocktails.
After the young bartender had come back with her drink, Leila paid the man and tipped him before heading off toward the only open table in the darkest part of the establishment.
She pulled her phone out of her bag and started to flip through her social media while sipping the drink. Ugh, it was weak and she wondered if the bartender owned the place. Anything to save a bit of money.
There was a shuffling off to her left and the other chair at the table was knocked from its place into her knee. Her glare at the back of the head of some black-haired gentlemen must have been felt because the man turned around.
“My apologies, Miss,” he told her politely.
“No sweat,” Leila told him with a brief smile. Clumsy oaf.
“Is anyone using this chair?” he asked.
Leila kept her eyes on her phone and waved at the chair so that he could steal it from the table.
On Instagram, she saw that Violet had posted a new photo and she smiled. Mason seemed to be growing teeth left, right and center. Or at least the 42 photos she had taken of the offending bit of bone would have one thinking so.
A throat cleared and Leila looked up. The man who had tumbled into the chair had not taken the chair away but had decided to sit in it and was now watching her look through her phone.
“I thought you needed the chair,” she told him, taking a sip of her drink. Still vile and she grimaced.
“Jerry makes horrible drinks,” the man told her. Leila blinked.
“The bartender there,” he said pointing to the man behind the bar who had served Leila her disgusting Manhattan. “Waters them down so people have to spend more. Give the drink to me.”
Leila thought about that and finally pushed the drink toward him, offering a one-shouldered shrug. He could have it if he wanted it that badly.
Instead, the man stood up and walked over to the bar and beckoned ‘Jerry’ over with a finger.
Glancing over at Leila, Jerry took the glass tumbler from the man and emptied it out before making another drink, adding a cherry on top as his own little piece of petty revenge.
Leila watched the whole thing go down and saw the black-haired man saunter back over to her table with the fresh drink.
Handing it over with a smile to Leila, she didn’t flinch from his gaze on her as she took a small sip. This time, it was delicious. How it should have been made in the first place. Unwatered down, the right amount of whiskey, vermouth, and bitters.
“What’s your name?” she asked him as she placed the drink down onto a napkin.
“Jason,” he told her, smiling brightly. She smiled back, with none of the warmth his grin had.
“Well listen, Jason,” she said and moved in closer to him to speak. “You and ‘Jerry’ have a nice little thing going here, don’t you?”
“Pardon?” Jason’s eyes widened and Leila smiled even wider.
“If you and he have some kind of deal going on trying to pick up women, you should probably at least use his real name,” she told him.
“How-” He looked perplexed, all deer-in-the-headlights.
“Name tag,” Leila cut him off. “He had a nametag when I went up there to get my first drink, so unless Jerry has an alias by the name of Kyle, you should probably go over your methods of seduction before trying this again.”
Jason’s mouth gaped and he had the grace to blush a bit. He closed and opened his mouth before finally chuckling and speaking.
“He wasn’t supposed to wear the nametag tonight,” Jason offered sheepishly.
“You need a better wingman,” Leila said, smirking. “Besides, many women don’t need the little bit of theater you to do to be gotten into bed.”
“Is that you telling me that you would have slept with me even if I didn’t make sure your drink was palatable?” he asked with a slow blink.
“Possibly,” she stated. “Or maybe it’s my way of saying that you should be honest in your intentions instead of coming up with idiotic little ploys to have a one-night stand.”
“How do you know it would be a one-night stand?” he asked. “Perhaps it would have been so good that you’d want more.”
“Or perhaps you would be the one begging for more,” Leila told him. “Not all women are what you think, Jason. Some want the one-night stand just as much as men do.”
Jason’s surprise was apparent. His eyes widened and jaw was slacked before shutting sharply with a click of bone. His lips curved up on one side.
“You might just be a woman in a million,” he told her as his smile widened like the sexual predator he was.
“Leila. My name is Leila,” she said to him. “You might want to remember it after tonight.”
Jason’s place was a small condominium in a gated community. He had said he was in the tech business. Around here, it wouldn’t surprise her, but she doubted he was telling the truth anyway. Or that his name was Jason. It might have been Mason or Cruz or even something ridiculous like Maximus, but after tonight, it wouldn’t really matter.
Leila tossed her light jacket onto his leather couch and leaned over it, taking in the room. It was filled with newer furniture and electronics, the TV attached to the wall by whatever gadgetry that they made these days that kept it from falling to the floor.
“You’re not from around here and you’re new to the area,” she told- not asked- him.
“How could you tell?” He asked, his front pressing up against her ass as she leaned forward on the back of the couch.
“All your stuff appears to be new,” she said. “It was a guess, but many folks around here just tote whatever worldly goods around with them when they move. So I assume you come from far away.”
“Florida,” he told her as his hand pressed against her inner thigh and massaged a circle there.
“Tampa?” His hand slid round to cup the curve of her ass.
“Ft. Lauderdale,” he rasped into her ear before nipping at it.
A soft moan eschewed from Leila’s lips and she arched her back against him, her ass grinding into his pelvis leaving space between the curve of her back and his chest.
“Something gives me the idea I might like living on the west coast,” he said and pulled her body to his to that she was flush against his chest.
“You’re Italian,” she pondered as he twirled her around and cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him.
“How did you know?” He didn’t sound like he cared. His breathing was too heavy and his eyes too dark to be thinking of anything but laying with this woman.
“Lucky guess,” she said as his hand came down to her throat, clutching at it as his mouth moved over hers.
“You should play Russian roulette at the casinos,” he told her before taking her mouth with his again. “You’d clean the place out.”
“My only gambles are my own to bear,” she told him, knowing he wouldn’t understand what she was saying.
He went to reply, and her hand came up to stop his words.
“Hush,” she told him. “Small talk is for idiots and pillow talk is for fools. We are neither one of them.”
Oh, but he could be a fool. A fool for her possibly.
It was true he had gone to the bar with the sole purpose of getting his dick wet, but there was something about the woman before him that undid him, made him wish he was capable of... more.
He did want more. Eventually. Someday. Just not now. But Leila made him think it was entirely possible to be more. At least with her.
But that was not what Leila wanted. She wanted a good fuck, a roll in the hay, to get her pussy pounded until she screamed this man’s fake name.
Only it wasn’t fake. Jason had been telling the truth. She had almost shocked it out of him with her surprising display of intuition.
“Take off your fucking shirt before I rip it off,” she told him, pulling him out of his thoughts. They had wandered for a bit, always the focus on ‘more’.
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her with a grin.
Making quick work of his buttons, Leila took over and shoved the shirt off him before running a trail up his pecs with her fingers.
Though of Italian heritage, the hair on his chest was sparse, centering on the skin over his diaphragm and down his abs toward the top of his khakis.
Her finger traced down to brush along the happy trail and onto the tented material over his bulge. His very prominent bulge.
Sliding her hand down, she cupped his balls through his pants before squeezing the thick length of his cock tightly.
“Shit,” he muttered as she stroked him over and over again. The zipper added just the right amount of pressure to have his dick twitching.
“Now strip me,” she told him, her voice a purr in his head as the sparks flew behind his eyelids. He didn’t realize he had closed the lids.
Nothing was sexier than a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it.
Leila was a dominant creature in bed. She couldn’t help it. She knew what it took to get her off and she wasn’t afraid of letting it be known.
Jason pulled at the hem of her peasant blouse, clumsy and all thumbs it seemed. But it was only what Leila was doing with her hands that had him so cloddish in his attempt at divesting her of the flimsy material. She squeezed and stroked him and almost made him make a mess in his boxers.
“Shit, baby,” he told her as he tossed her blouse aside and saw the silky demi-cups encasing her breasts. She was probably a C, maybe a large B, but they were perfection. He could almost see the rosy color of her nipples in his mind’s eye and wanted nothing more than to suck them into his mouth and hear her moan for him.
“I need you in the bedroom. Now,” he told her and pulled her up by her ass so that she was forced to latch onto his hips by snaking her legs around his midsection.
Squealing with the sudden movement, Leila grabbed onto Jason’s shoulders as he walked quickly toward the back of the condo, one destination in mind.
Tossing her onto the bed, Leila’s breath whooshed out of her chest suddenly before he was on her.
His hands pushed up the cups of her bra and he sucked the tops of them into his mouth, almost bruisingly.
With one hand, he reached around to unclasp her bra and then pulled the idiotic contraption from her chest before placing his mouth over one stone-tipped tit and sucking at it hungrily.
“Mmm...” he moaned around her nipple, sending a delicious vibration throughout her body. “Beach Boys were right.”
“What?” Leila’s eyes blinked open in surprise at his odd comment.
“I wish they all could be California girls,” he told her and bent back to suck in the other nipple, biting as he pulled it into his mouth.
Leila emitted a short laugh before moaning as his mouth encased her breast, adding to the pleasurable feeling in her core.
Cupping the soft underside of her breasts, he kissed a moist line down her stomach before coming to the elastic band of her skirt.
Not hesitating, he pulled it down her body and was met with a small scrap of fabric only large enough to cover her shaven pussy.
Jason tugged on the elastic of her panties, arching a brow at the insignificant fabric.
“Why even bother wearing these at all?” he asked, his voice desire-laden. “They’re practically non-existent.”
“Another layer to strip. Good things come to those who wait,” she told him with a smile. “Now enough talk. Are you going to take them off me with your teeth or do you need help?”
“I’m on it,” he told her as he started to peel the panties down her hips, his hands sliding over smooth flesh as he pulled them off around her ankles.
Undoing his belt, he shoved his pants to the ground and stepped out of the puddle on the floor. His boxers soon followed and Leila was met with a stiff, jutting appendage that was nearly twice the size of her last ‘date’.
“Good Lord,” she mumbled, earning a raised brow from the man whose dick was pointed straight at her.
Without saying anything, Jason climbed onto the bed and parted Leila’s knees with his thick thighs before pushing her back onto the bed.
“Condom,” she said before he could get too close. Her hand came up to his chest, feeling the expansion as the firm muscles breathed in and out.
Without looking away, Jason bent over to the night table and opened a small drawer. It was filled with condoms. Filled.
Leila smirked as she looked over to the assortment of condoms in the drawer.
“You’re either a very lucky guy who needs to keep himself well-stocked, or the most unlucky one and I should check the expiration date on the packet,” she told him.
Sheathing himself in latex, Jason looked down at her before smiling.
“I can guarantee you that I’ve never had to toss a condom because it’s expiration date has passed,” he told her before laying himself on top of her.
“Good,” she said just before his mouth came down over hers in a searing, hot kiss.
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