Salty

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5

S L O A N

Mulligan’s remained packed for the next few hours. The people around them had become a blur, merely background noise to a conversation that had Sloan laughing so hard that her belly hurt. Sloan and her grocery store stranger had taken up people watching. Both of them leaned back in their seats, discreetly pointing out people and assuming what they enjoyed in the bedroom.

“She’s a Beverly,” Sloan sipped from the tiny straw in her drink and nodded towards a petite woman, dark mom-bobbed hair, mid-forties.

“You think so?” he rubbed at the scruff of his chin.

“Mmm,” she agreed and sat up straighter. “She schedules sex with her husband, Richard, once per month. It’s his favorite day and her least. They only do missionary and she washes the sheets and Lysols the bedroom afterwards.”

“Ouch,” he clutches his chest. “Shots fired.”

“You don’t agree?” her eyebrows lifted, wondering how he couldn’t see it. She felt pretty good about this one.

He took his time, watching the woman closely as he pushed up the sleeves of his shirt further. His muscle didn’t allow much give. Sloan liked the way he would always cock his head to eye the person carefully, as if he didn’t want to make a mistake. She had a feeling that he enjoyed being right.

“No, I agree, but would like to add to it, if I may?”

“Yes, by all means...”

“She owned a sex toy once. She bought it while feeling obligated during one of those kinky bachelorette parties for a niece who is much more fun than herself. She used it, liked it, had no clue what to do with the disgusting thing after and threw it in the trash. She never spoke of it again and it haunts her. Best orgasm she ever had.”

Sloan’s laughter filled the bar as she tossed her head back and let loose. This wasn’t the first time that her eyes dampened from her giggles tonight, but this one was so good they were spilling down her cheeks. Her new friend hunched over, laughing just as loud.

“Her poor husband!” Sloan smacked her bare knee as she continued chortling. “Richard must be terrible in the sack.”

“We can’t all be winners, Richard.”

Sloan’s head shook, her smile unwilling to remove itself from her face. She patrolled the room from her seat, looking for their next victim. When she heard the clink of fresh glasses behind them, that gave her an idea.

“What about him,” she motioned over her shoulder to the bartender. “What do you feel his story is?”

Sloan was banking on her gut intuition that even though this guy lived upstairs and has a regular drink at this bar, that he was not friends with the man behind the bar. At no point had the two of them even spoken.

Shifting uneasily in his seat, he didn’t bother to look back at the man tending bar. His smile suddenly appeared forced as he took the fresh drink and tipped it back until its contents had diminished. “He is a prick, a wannabe musician who plays bar out of spite. Has issues with everyone around him, including friends and family, because he’s jealous that they’ve ‘made it’. And he enjoys women that aren’t his to enjoy, blondes mostly.”

Wow. Oddly specific. Perhaps they do know each other? Before Sloan could ask follow up questions he motions to a couple that are making out in the center of the dance floor. Their tongues could not be shoved any further down each other’s throats and the entire sight made Sloan queasy. Gross.

“She is way too hot for him. She’s a Mandy. She’s had way too much to drink, has proclaimed the words ‘fuck shoes’ at least ten times tonight to her girlfriends, isn’t wearing underwear and definitely has on beer goggles.”

Sloan’s smile returned, as did his. He was so right. That girl was at least a nine and he was a three on his best day.

“His name is Billy. He’s a virgin and won’t be by the end of the night, thanks to the bathroom. It’s his first time getting into a real bar and his mom is going to pick him up and take him home. He will then ask his mother to call him, Bill, because he’s a man now.”

His cheekbones rose high with returned laughter. His dimples were becoming knee weakening.

“They are both in for disappointment. Her friends are going to give her hell and he will never have better. That’s why you don’t kiss them. Fuck around, claim it was just a fuck, never ever kiss them. Kissing made it intimate for both.”

Sloan thought that idea was way too good to be true. Screwing without kissing seemed impossible, even though the premise seemed amazing. Two people, fucking like animals to fulfill a need and not making it intimate? Was that even possible?

“That’s my method at least,” he shrugged and leaned into his stool.

“No kissing?” she asked, allowing her jaw to hang open in shock. This was actually something he did and stuck to? “When was the last time you kissed someone?”

He groaned, appearing to laugh at himself as he dragged a hand down his face, lingering just a little longer over the scruff that gave him a five-o’clock shadow.

“I’m not sure. Two, three years maybe?”

Years? Sloan was dumbfounded by this.

“And yet you claim women can’t get enough of you,” her eyes rolled dramatically. She could see how practically any woman would find him attractive. Tall, strong features, muscular. He obviously knew how to dress nice, minus his plaid grocery store runs.

“How do you take a girl upstairs to rapture her and not kiss her? I don’t believe you,” Sloan became overly bubbly with her laughter. She knew their row of empty glasses had been adding to her giggles. She could tell by the slightly pink tint of his dimpled cheeks that he was feeling no pain either.

His fingertip swirled around the rim of his glass as his smile grew. “I kiss other places.”

Sloan’s entire body clenched with his words, bringing a rush of heat across her skin. Her mind was rushing to a million and one different dirty scenarios and trying to shut them out at the same time. When his piercing blues lifted to her, the alcohol decided to ask the one question that was supposed to stay in her head.

“Like where?” the words escaped as breaths, not losing eye contact while her chest began to rise and fall faster than before.

He liked this question, she knew by that growing grin on his face. Sloan knew that between alcohol, loud music, over a year with no sex, and his dirty smirk, that she was damn close to making very stupid decisions. Somehow, tonight she just didn’t care and it felt good.

“Well,” he eyed her dress again. Coarse fingertips brushed across her inner thigh and the warmth that accompanied it had her already melting onto her stool. His smoldering stare lifted to hers again as his hand traveled further up her thigh. He was just past the seam of the dress, close enough that she knew he could feel the heat from sex-starved lady parts. His hand stopped and he made a small circle with his fingertip on her soft skin. “This is one of my favorite spots,” he leaned himself in closer, close enough that she thought her lips would meet is, but instead he was moving to the crook of her neck. The smell of his cinnamon cologne had her in euphoria—he smelled so damn good.

“But I also like kissing here,” he whispered, just below her ear. He slowly blew cold air to the spot he was referring to and goosebumps rose across her pale skin. His finger continued its playful dance across her inner thigh as his scent and the feel of his breath overtook her. She did not even care if there were other people in this bar right now, to her it was just them and a thermostat that was up way too damn high.

“Anywhere else?” she whispered, licking her bottom lip and slowly turning her head to get lost in a sea of blue again.

They both knew that her loaded question was the point of no return.

Brief eye contact was made, just long enough to feel her lungs stop functioning, before he swiftly moved back to her neck again, this time landing those sultry lips on her skin, immediately causing a moan to escape her that became lost in the music and excitement of the bar. Lips, tongue, lips, air, the grip rough grip of her thigh as he began his rapturing—it had her eyes clenched shut and her mouth gaping, struggling to find oxygen. Honestly, he didn’t need to kiss her lips. The neck worked just fine. His hand moved further up her thigh until there was nowhere else to go but exactly where she wanted him. His fingers were gliding up and down the black panties that were dividing them.

“This is my favorite place to kiss,” he spoke to her collarbone. With more applied pressure from his fingers she knew he could feel her wetness along her lace-covered slit. “But you’ll need to come upstairs with me if you want that demonstration.”

“Yes,” her martini-buzzed head nodded with her whisper. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, maybe it was her. Even though Sloan knew she wasn’t ready for this, she needed it.

Everything began happening fast. Her hips were gripped by two strong hands and pulled from her leather barstool. Her heels hit the ground harshly and thankfully his arm stayed around her waist while she became dizzy from the abrupt change in position.

“Mikah!” toothpick guy called out. The bartender’s head snapped up in response, looking between Sloan and the man who had her lady parts throbbing for attention. “Her bill is on me.”

So, he does know him?

Sloan didn’t even have time to wait for his reply, her hand was gripped firmly in his and she was being pulled towards a rust-colored door near the back of the bar. On the other side of it, was a narrow, dimly lit, all brick room, with nothing more than a wrought iron staircase that already had her losing balance at the thought of ascending it.

When the door shut behind them, he moved her so that Sloan’s back was pressed against it. Her chin extended towards the ceiling with his lips conquering every single inch of open skin between her jaw and breasts. The hum of the bar on the other side of the door was loud but not loud enough to drown her moans this time. The vibration of the music just added to the arousal.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” she huffed between her breathy panting.

“You need it?” he chuckled, using a single finger to tug down the thin strap of her dress, allowing it to dangle at the side of her shoulder. Even this was hot and had her wanting him to just tear the damn thing off—Hallie be damned.

“I need to call out something tonight, I prefer a name. Unless you want me to yell ‘toothpick guy’,” she confessed with a giggle. They both knew this was a one-time deal, but a name was also going to make her feel better.

“A screamer, huh?” he playfully smirked and it was smug enough that her panties could have removed themselves in the moment.

This made her flush, but she wasn’t going to deny it. She is a screamer and he was about to find out. If they didn’t move from this spot and up to his apartment, half the bar was going to find out just how loud she could be.

“Ollie,” he confessed, dragging his finger beneath the only strap that was holding her dress up. His eyes lifted to her, without words he was asking for her name in return.

“Sloan.”

“Sloan,” he nodded with approval, slowly dropping her strap. The dress dropped a few inches, sending the material to cling to her hardened nipple as its last attempt to stay up before it finally dropped and bunched around her middle. Ollie’s eyes darkened with desire as he drank in the sight of her half-naked body. The air was thick and Sloan swallowed it, wanting him to eye-fuck every part of her because that in itself was getting her off.

“Well, Sloan,” he pulled her into his chest and kissed her jaw. “I’m about to do very dirty things to this body, but I need to get you upstairs so that we don’t have any unwelcome visitors.”

Before she could even speak her hesitance of walking her intoxicated-self up the stairs in heels that were two inches higher than she normally wore, Ollie’s hands were positioned below her ass, hiking her into the air. Sloan quickly wrapped herself around his body, finally feeling his firm muscles pressed against her. They were face to face as he carried her up the iron stairway, taking his time so that he himself didn’t topple them both back to the first floor.

It felt odd to not kiss with their lips so close, but she liked that they were off limits. Intimacy was the last thing she needed right now. Ollie seemed to notice her stare at the off-limit lips because he began to chuckle and shake his head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Trust me,” she rolled her hips into his erection, feeling the bulge of his dockers against the exact spot where she wanted him. When she heard him exhale and curse beneath his breath she smiled. “I won’t.”

From the moment the door of Ollie’s apartment swung open, those lips were back on her skin, nibbling, biting, licking, mumbling dirty words of promises of what he was going to do to her tonight. Her moans were already filling the dark space as he carried her and sat her onto a very cold countertop of the island in his kitchen. She flinched at the freezing cold metal for a brief moment, before forgetting about it entirely. Her current body temperature was enough to heat the entire apartment.

Ollie stepped away briefly to turn on the light of kitchen. Sloan wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the sight before her definitely was not it. His apartment was stunning... and huge. Exposed, dark-red, brick, lined most of the walls where others were a crisp white or pale gray. State-of-the-art stainless appliances with matching stainless countertops surrounded her. The cabinets—and there were a lot of them—were a dark warm wood that calmed the masculine feel of the room. It was minimally decorated with cast iron pans hanging on the walls and a few plants—that she was assuming were fresh herbs—sat in the window.

This apartment was screaming money and she felt very out of her element, yet she wanted to spend every moment taking advantage of this kitchen.

As Ollie returned to her, he began to unbutton his black shirt, reminding Sloan that her breasts were still on display.

“You have a nice kitchen,” she blurted out awkwardly.

Smooth, Sloan. Real smooth.

Her face pinkened as he grinned at her and gave a small laugh. “You want to talk about my kitchen?”

No. She definitely did not want to discuss his kitchen. Well, maybe a little. But later. Definitely a discussion for later. Would there be a discussion later?

His eyebrow cocked with enthusiasm as he watched her internal debate.

Jesus, Sloan, stop being so weird.

“No,” she finally forced herself to say aloud, playing with the hem of her dress. “I don’t want to talk about your kitchen.”

His hands touched down on the caps of her knees. Ollie gently pushed them apart and took one step forward so that he was between them. He then allowed his hands to travel up her bare legs excruciatingly slow until his fingers were tangled in the straps of the panties upon her hips.

“What do you want then?” Ollie asked before taking her nipple between his lips and sucking until it made a popping noise as he released her.

Her slit dampened, begging for his mouth to be there instead. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since his fingers had been so close. She wanted that demonstration he had mentioned downstairs.

When his blue eyes met hers again, and the smug smirk reappeared—the one that displayed his dimples—she knew she was in for a good night.

“I want to be raptured.”

Ollie seemed to like that answer, once again taking her breast into his mouth as he harshly pulled her underwear off and tossed them somewhere into his perfect kitchen. Her dress was quickly discarded somewhere along with it. Sloan was impressed by his level of multitasking, seeming to be able to undress both himself and her at the same time. His shirt dropped down around his arms and for the first time she was seeing his skin.

Tattoos.

Hot. Fucking. Tattoos.

They lined his arms, perfectly placed so that both times she saw him with his sleeves rolled up they were hidden. A few were scattered along his chest.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” his eyes trailed every inch of her and left a blazing heat in their path.

Sloan’s lungs felt like they could burst from sucking in so much air. She was about to be his meal and couldn’t wait much longer.

Fuck, he was even hotter than she thought. Those tattoos...

“Everywhere,” she answered honestly.

“What about...” His finger every so gently traced the line of her slit. Her thighs shook. “...here?”

“Yes.”

“How?” he smiled devilishly, dropping his head closer to her body.

“How...?” she questioned.

“Well, I can peck,” his face dropped lower. He began to place the smallest of kisses down her front until his face was between her legs. A quick kiss was placed just above her screaming lady parts.

“Tease,” she squirmed.

“Just a kiss,” using just his lips a long kiss was placed on her folds. Her sex clenched with anticipation of his next move.

“Or how about a deeper kiss?”

Before Sloan could even contemplate how hot that sounded, his tongue finally parted her, spreading the lips of her dampened pussy, and he began sucking. Her head was swimming with ecstasy as he began his rapturing. It was better than Sloan could have imagined, as if her body was an instrument and he was playing her with nothing more than his tongue.

Her fingers trailed to his head, locking themselves into his messy hair, gripping and keeping him in his place. His tongue was warm and wicked, only second to the lips that felt like they could suck her soul right out of her body.

Casually, he slid his middle finger into her throbbing core, beginning his next stroke. Rapturing was an understatement, he was devouring her.

Her toes began to curl at her readiness to succumb to his mouth. Each time his tongue lapped her clit, followed by his lips working their magic, she thought she would explode. It was when he entered her with a second finger that she became a trembling mess—screaming moans and curses that likely filled his entire apartment.

“Ollie!” her hips bucked from the counter, bucking into his face. He continued through her entire orgasm before wrapping his arms around her back and lifting her from his countertop. She felt like a feather in his hold.

His hardened cock was pressed firmly against her slit as he walked her to the living area. With a quick toss, she landed her back on leather couch.

“Wait right here,” he grinned and disappeared into a darkened hallway.

Like she was going to move after that.

She was still dizzy and shaking. Her body was buzzing in the best way when Ollie reappeared sporting nothing more than a clear rubber over an impressive dick. He tossed a pile of gold foil-covered condoms to the table in front of the couch. Sloan brushed her tongue over dry lips, suddenly very anxious. His size had her sex clenching, fearful that she wouldn’t be able to take him.

Maybe a few rounds with hulk wouldn’t have hurt?

Ollie appeared very sure of himself, confident, but not in a way that made him annoying. He stood tall before her, pure muscle, tattoos and a firm cock that swung as he dipped down to lift her thighs up to him, leaving only her shoulders pressed into the leather cushion of the couch.

Sloan gasped when his erection poked at her entrance, causing Ollie’s lips to curl upwards. His girth was ridiculous and he appeared damn proud of it.

“Ready for a good night, Sloan?” two fingers slid inside of her, testing to make sure she remained wet—she definitely was. Her hips ground into his fingers, needing more of him.

“Fuck me,” she clutched her hardened breasts and squeezed. Her nipples peaked and she tugged them. “I need to be fucked.”

Ollie cursed and he firmly grasped his cock, aiming it at her aching hole. Sloan’s eyes pressed shut tight as he began to split her open, her mouth parted, gasping for more air in response. Ollie took advantage, shoving is arousal-coated fingers between her lips. She swirled her tongue around them—taking in her own sweet flavor—before crying out at the feel of him pushing into her completely with one powerful thrust.

Her entire body began to shake, overtaken by his size inside of her. She was in pain, but it was a damn good pain to be in.

“Jesus Christ, you are tight,” he grunted.

Him being huge versus her being tight was an understatement. It had been a while since anything was inside of her and Ollie filled her. She pushed on his chest, a way of telling him that she needed a moment to adjust to the new size that was impaling her. They both could feel her heartbeat throbbing around him. Once she gathered her bearings, she gave him a nod to begin moving again.

Sloan continued to suck his fingers dry as he began to deliver blow after blow into her core. He began slow, but didn’t stay that way for long. He was a beast—that was the only way to explain him—a very hot, manly, beast. Each thrust was powerful and timed perfectly. Due to his size, Ollie was able to hit places that Sloan herself couldn’t even reach and it was already building an orgasm she knew was going to be amazing. The G-spot was real and it was fucking better than she could have imagined. He growled as he fucked her and she screamed with pleasure as he did. Her walls were being stroked perfectly.

Ollie coated in a sheen sweat was beautiful. Every muscle became more defined in a glow and the sweat rolling down his forehead as he continued his manly roars was sending her over the edge.

She was close and they both knew it.

“Come on my cock, Sloan,” he swiped the sweat above his brow with the crease of his elbow and gritted his teeth. “I want to feel just how fucking tight that pussy gets for me. Give me that orgasm you’re holding onto.”

“Yes!” she cried out, arching her back further, trying to take even more of him. She wasn’t used to dirty talk and his was going to drive her right where she needed to go. It was hot.

His pelvis began to move like a jackhammer, drilling into her with impressive speed and force. Her shoulders pushed harshly into the couch with her hips still up in the air and thighs wrapped around him as he stood.

“Ollie, fuck! Oh my god!” Sloan’s fingernails dug into the skin of his abs as her sex began exploding with spasms.

“Yes,” he closed his eyes and muttered. “Come on it. Fuck, you are so damn tight...”

“Yes,” she whimpered, riding waves of aftershocks.

Ollie finally pulled out of her, dropping her back down to the couch for her to become nothing more than a puddle with shaking legs. He tore the condom off, tying it closed to toss to the table behind him, and placing his dick in front of her face. She happily accepted it, grabbing its base and shoving him into her mouth. Ollie hissed as she pumped him with her hand and sucked as much of him as she could fit between her lips. It took only a few seconds before spurts of his warm seed filled her throat.

“Fuck,” he growled, holding both hands on the back of her head while he fucked her mouth. She milked him for all he was worth as his chest lifted and fell rapidly. She couldn’t even help but to play with herself as she did it, feeling the void space where his cock was only a few minutes ago and needing to calm her ache.

Ollie remained hard as stone when she popped him free of her mouth. Sapphire eyes met hers from above and the hungry look on his face told her they weren’t done.

“I’m going to fuck you all over this apartment until you can’t walk straight,” he grabbed another condom from the coffee table and ripped it open with his teeth. “Then, I’m going to fuck you a few more times.”

“Yes,” she whispered, fingering herself as a tease for both of them to enjoy. His eyes brightened with her bold movement. “I needed this, Ollie. I need it again.”

She needed to not feel anything anymore and apparently this was going to include her legs. For the first time in months, she was close to forgetting.

With one swift movement she was being carried off to another room, slung over his shoulder like a jacket. He gave one firm slap to her ass and she squealed in delight.

Not feeling felt good.

She could feel bad tomorrow.

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