“Last call, guys!”

Garrett’s voice was as commanding as his frame was solid and boomed over the indulgent din of the bar crowd. 

I swiveled in my seat at the bar as I watched him take a rush of final orders from the glassy-eyed patrons who did not need one more round. It was right around then that I made eye contact with the clock and realized just how much time I had spent watching him pour pint after pint that night, ogling him from behind without shame. 

Garrett had been working at Marlowe’s for a few months but up until then I hadn’t paid him much attention. Our schedules rarely overlapped and there’s a lot of turnover in the service industry. As a rule, I didn’t make an effort to get to know the new staff members until they made it past their three-month probation period. 

At first glance, Garrett wasn’t the type of guy to catch my eye. Not that he wasn’t handsome in his own right. He was tall and lean, a mountain of shoulder and thick limbs with dark chestnut hair long enough to swoop out from under the ball cap he wore after hours. I never asked about his athletic background but it was pretty clear that conscious effort went into maintaining his strapping physique. The sharp bottom line of his dark sideburns cut into the clench of his square jaw and the thick heavy brow gave the impression that he was always a little concerned. He had a stern but gentle giant look about him like a farmhand who could one-hand a bale of hay while flinging over his shoulder with his free hand with the same unexpected grace as when he glided around his coworkers behind the bar

His everything screamed: “I’m rough, tough and more than capable.”

And that night, I was all for it.

On my way over, I told myself that I was just popping into the pub to see who was on and grab a quick bite to eat. I didn’t have anything in the fridge and didn’t feel like braving the grocery store.

I should have known better. 

There was no such thing as just one drink at Marlowe's. One couldn’t walk through those doors after the sun went to bed without risking being the one to have to wake his drunk ass up again the next day. 

More notably though, I thought I was going to see someone else that night... But plans were changed and ultimately canceled last minute, as they so often were. It didn’t surprise me, but I couldn’t help feeling a little dejected. I’d showered and prepped that morning in anticipation and everything… I was a little nonplussed that all that buffing was going to go to waste.

Right around the time that I committed to a pint with my meal, I had also decided that Garrett was going to distract me from my woes and validate my primping.

To his credit, Garrett’s boldness with me as the night wore on had taken me aback and intrigued me enough to stay well past my bedtime. He flirted with me with such assurance, it was as if we’d already banged. Every time he came back to me, he poured another layer of cleverness into our conversation that surpassed my expectations of him. Whether he stimulated my mind or I drank myself down to his level, I wasn’t sure. Nor did I care. As my hazy IPA soothed my earlier irritations of the day, my primal urges grew in tandem.

With his back to me, Garrett stood in front of his computer, resting one hand — my god, his hands were as big as my face — on the edge of the monitor as he punched the orders into the screen. The glint of his silver chain necklace peeking up over the edge of the black collar. While he organized orders in his mind, I traced down from there, along the acute angles of his shoulders that tapered down toward his waist under the thin layer of black cotton, which left just enough to the imagination. His hand hovered over the buttons, swirled around the options, ran through his chin-length hair and stopped — until he remembered the last items and flicked them into the touch screen with his knuckle. Then, he spun on his heel and looked over his shoulder at me from under the ledge of his heavy brow. By way of inquiry, he pointed one thick finger at me, down at my near-empty glass, and back at my face again. 

“Sure, fine,” I said with a smile. “One last one.”

His steely eyes lingered on me longer than they needed to as he tongued his sharpest tooth at the corner of his grin.

“You should stay until I get all of these losers out of here,” he said as he poured us two shots of whiskey, not giving me any reason to say no.

“I should, should I?” I said, accepting the liquid invitation.

“It won’t take me too long to close up.” His eyes were fierce with intent. “Then, I can give you a ride home.”

“Mm, I think I’d really appreciate that, thank you.”

We clinked our shots together and tossed the bartender water down our throats with ease. As per bar tradition, he clanked the empty glass a few times on the bar top. When someone in the crowd cheered out loud for no reason whatsoever, Garrett hooted right back at him in a proud, ape-like fashion. I was almost tipsy enough then to find it endearing.

He’d been right. It didn’t take Garrett long to whip through his closing duties once he’d gotten all the rowdy customers to leave. I zoned out on the nuances of his musculature from the squeeze between his shoulder blades to the micro-flexing in his wrist and forearm as he counted the cash in his till and filled out the tally sheet. Even the tribal tattoo wrapping around his bulging biceps was doing it for me then. 

Garrett noticed that my water glass was empty. “You ready to go then?” he asked as he stuffed the money into a small zippered bag.

“Not quite yet.” I rested my hand on his forearm and waited for him to look back up at me. My pulse thumped just as hard into the wooden seat beneath me. He just smiled and waited for me to take the kiss that I wanted from him.

That’s all I needed; I didn’t give it another thought.

Garrett's lips were soft to the touch but that’s where the gentleness ended. His large, gruff hand grabbed hold of my skull like a baseball in a leather glove and drove my face harder into his and his light stubbled razed my upper lip raw in the most delicious way. When I dove in deeper, I caught the soft aromas of hours-old cologne and laundry detergent lingering on his t-shirt.

I don’t know how I managed to do it without sending either of us tumbling to the ground, but I lifted myself from my stool and crawled over to straddle his lap. Our tongues were sloppy when they met again, fighting for dominance as I grinded down into him rising to the challenge.

Holding his face between my hands, I pulled away.

“Now,” I panted, “I’m ready.”

Garrett pulled hard on my hair, forcing my head back while I gasped and smiled through closed eyes to demonstrate my approval. He cushioned his bites with his lips as he made his way down the ropes in my exposed neck.

“Let’s go then,” he growled.

On the way back to my place, I was shameless, aggressive, and even more impatient than usual. Knees wide, as sprawled as I could be with a seatbelt on, I sneaked one hand down my unbuttoned pants. When Garrett looked over at what I was up to, his nostrils flared and he grunted long and low.

“Oh my god.” His sharp inhale was brimming with exasperated longing. “That is so fucking hot.”

My lips had cracked and dried since my lipstick had worn down; I absently tugged at the ridge of flesh between my teeth, which only added substance to the scene I was setting for him. At the red light, Garrett’s hand left the stick shift to rub at the bulge through his jeans while he continued to toss glances over at me in the darkness. He glazed his lower lip with a reactionary pass of his tongue.

“You’re a wild one, aren’t you?”

I just covered my bottom lip with my teeth.

After a little more sultry wriggling under the power of my own touch, I withdrew my hidden hand and, as if I were applying a tangy balm, traced the edges of my lips with my middle finger. Garrett’s soft groan crescendoed as I licked my fingertip, sucking in the whole digit. His entire body shook when I reached over with my other hand, grabbed his thigh and gave it a squeeze. 

“It’s green,” I said as I unzipped him and slipped my hand down his pants. 

Reluctantly, Garrett reached over me to put the car back into gear. His face weaved in and out of the light from the street lamps slicing through his sunroof as he drove us forward. I watched him struggle to keep his eyes open while I got familiar with the curvature of his strained erection. When I palmed him, Garrett gulped down his excitement so as not to choke on it. A quick snicker escaped through his nostrils as we pulled up to a stoplight and he looked at the lit half of my face.

“This is getting dangerous,” he said.

“We’re almost there,” I assured him.

I felt wild and lucid, sobered by the throb between my legs, as I tugged his pants open wider and wrapped my fingers all the way around his cock. It thumped harder in my palm and he groaned again.

“This is me right here.” Because my hands were full, I gestured up the block with my chin. “On the right. 407.”

He found a parking space right outside my building. Then, everything happened with such haste, I’m surprised I remember enough to be able to tell you about it now. 

Even before he got the vehicle into park, I was on top of him again. Smacking and slurping like ravenous animals, we devoured each other through our mouths. The breadth of his fingers rivaled the reach of my ribcage as he grabbed and squeezed at the valleys of my waist. I didn’t notice he’d unclasped my bra until I was annoyed by the edges flapping under my top. I awkwardly peeled everything up over my head and tossed it somewhere onto the floor. He groaned, squeezing my breasts together, and sucked a nipple between his lips. The roof of my mouth sparked when he flicked my nipple with his tongue and bit down on it.

“Christ, that’s amazing,” I said. “Keep going.”

Holding myself steady with my fingers weaved through the thick, dark hair on his impressive skull, I leaned back, pressing my cheek to the ceiling, and arched my chest in toward his face, until I leaned back too far and irritated the horn. We both whispered giggles through our noses, as if that might lull any disturbed neighbors back to sleep.

“Wait.” I startled him with the sudden sternness in my voice. He froze, waiting for me to continue. “What the fuck are we still doing in here? Let’s go inside.” 

I scrambled off his lap, opened the passenger side door, and tumbled out onto the sidewalk. With my sandals in one hand, I lingered in the cold grass, feeling the crisp dampness of earlier midsummer showers lick at my toes, while the late night breeze tickled my puckered nipples.

Garrett was a mixture of awestruck and downright impressed as he came around the front of the car to meet me.

“You are wild,” he said. “I love it.” 

“Of course you do.”

I flung my arms around his neck to taste him once more before I stuck the key into the outside door and dragged him into the building. As we hurried up the three flights to my apartment, the frozen glow of fluorescent lights in the stairwell drew more goosebumps from my skin, making me aware of just how exposed I was. 

I had no idea if my roommate was home or not. I vaguely remembered her saying something that morning about staying at her girlfriend’s that night. 

I couldn’t care at that point.

“Take off your clothes,” I barked at him over my shoulder as I tore my jeans off in the hallway. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

We left a breadcrumb trail of garments all the way down the hall to my bedroom door, where I grabbed a very naked Garrett by the wrist, pulled him into my less-than-tidy room and pushed him onto the unmade bed.

I hadn’t anticipated bringing a lover home that night. 

The silver chain around his neck flickered in light of a streetlamp peeking through the blinds, like a shiny spoon stirring through the cappuccino of his skin. I paused a moment to watch the ripple and twitch in his forearms as he ran his thick hand up the length of his equally thick shaft. The muscular contours of his body were chiseled, but also soft. Like you could grate cheese on his abs, but you’d also never have to worry that he’d nick you mid-cuddle.

But my patience was depleting fast. I kept my eyes trained him as I reached into the nightstand and grabbed a condom. 

“Put it on,” I said tossing it at him.

Garrett held hard eye contact with me while he did so; I nearly came right there.

When he was ready, I pounced on top of him, sliding his girth between my lips. I pulled my own hair and tugged at my nipples as I gyrated around his proud cock, grinding him into my rumpled sheets. Garett’s hands, which had been resting on my hips, took on new vigor as the volume of my moans escalated with abandon. He reached around and left a light handprint on my ass. Presumptuous, but I was into it and made sure he knew where I stood on the matter. “Yes!” I bowed over him and growled into his ear. “A little harder, even.”

Garrett seemed pleased and spanked me again, on the other cheek, a little harder than before. “Mm… You like that?”

“Mm, yes, I like that. Now, fuck me harder.”

He wasn’t put off by my curt demands. If anything, he seemed to be turned on by them, because he asked more. Grunting like the beast that he was, he plowed hard and strong up into me as I scrubbed at my hardened clit.

“Fuck, baby, you are so hot.”

“Thank you,” I agreed. “Now get on top of me.”

Despite the primal hunger, I took special care to dismount, enjoying the throb of his cock against every ridge inside me as I released my grip on him. I flipped over onto my back and he climbed up on top of me. 

“Wait.” I reached over to my bedside table and rummaged around in the dark. I let him kiss me until I found was I was looking for. “Mmm… now fuck me like you mean it,” I growled as I set the vibrator a-buzz.

With a wily grin and serious eyes, Garrett guided the head of his sheathed cock back into the pool of wetness between my legs, rubbing up and down between my folds, as much to tease as to readjust, and slid back inside me. His rhythm was slow at first and he panted and groaned on every stroke. I purred my approval back at him. But Garrett soon increased in speed and depth, reaching all the way to the end. But I was greedy and still wanted more — I lifted one leg up to his shoulder, opening myself up even further to him.

“Oh, fuckyes, right there.” The pillows forced my eyes shut as my head craned back into them. The slight arch in my spine sent the vibrations on my clit even deeper inside. “Just like that. It’s fucking perfect.”

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said.

“You’re very observant."

Garrett’s laugh was overcome by a gritty grunt, then deeper growl as he found the spots that worked for him too. He whisper-growled a soft, repetitive “Yeah?” at me between faster strokes. Every thrust sent another shock that whipped through my body until it made its way back to the vibrating epicenter. I could taste the ashes from the tension burning in my core as they made their way up my throat. I was sitting on a plateau, but she was oh-so-close.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” I gasped. “Don’t stop. Oh my god, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. Not until I tell you. I’m almost there.” My focus inward, inside the source of imminent release. “Yes, yes, yes!”

I was so. Close. 

“Harder, right there!”

I felt the full range of my stretch as Garrett gripped my ankle and pressed my foot so far into my face, I could bite the bunched flesh of my kneecap. He plunged deep as anyone could, and together, we pushed toward the edge. 

I wondered again if my roomie was home. I was quite loud as I heralded my coming and did nothing to stifle it.

Then Garrett, without warning, grunted and swore and began to slow his roll, coming to an abrupt stop. 

Which, very much to my dismay, murdered the release I didn’t quite reach.

Garrett rolled over beside me, folded his arms, lacing his fingers behind his head and said, “Wow, that was amazing.”

I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a condom being peeled off an entitled dick and splatting somewhere on my floor. 

My body was thrumming with confusion. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him with concern and inquiry. Garrett swiveled his big dumb face toward me. Despite all the good we’d been building up together, it was already apparent that he had no intention of helping a girl out to make it past the finish line too. But maybe I was jumping to conclusions…

“What’s up?” he asked through a yawn.

“What, umm…” I tried to sound cute, drawing circles with my finger into his broad chest, but my jaw was a little clenched. “What about me?”

Garrett turned to face me, stroking my arm with the back of his sausage finger. “What do you mean?”

All the heat that had been piling in my loins rushed to my face.

“I mean… I didn’t come.”

“Oh. Well, baby, I’m pretty tired now. You can take of yourself, yeah?”

My eye twitched twice when he said it. I was too frustrated to find any patience or forgiveness for this behavior. Impulse took over.

“You’re joking me.” I think you could describe how I spoke then as ‘snarling.’

I don’t anger easily but the combination of Irish whiskey and purposeless orgasm denial turned out to be the perfect cocktail to get an undesirable rise out of me. A simmering sort of rage started to ring in my ears like the buzz of an old neon sign. I rolled my eyes and pushed away from him. My face contorted in ways I didn’t know were possible when I stepped on the used condom.

Sure, I was probably still a little tipsy. But let’s be clear — I would have been just as unimpressed if I’d been dead sober.

“You can leave now,” I said, picking my red satin robe up from the pile on the floor and wrapping it around me.

“I’m sorry, what?”

I walked across the room and turned on the lights.

“Get out of my bed,” I said. “Find your clothes. You’re not staying.”

“What, are you serious?”

“Very.”

“Uh…”

HE raised a confused eyebrow as he got up and walked past me, arms crossed and glaring at him, to find the rest of his clothes scattered down the hallway.

“Let’s go,” I reiterated. 

Garrett was understandably unsettled by my sudden change of tune, but even when I looked back on this scene now, I have no regrets about how I behaved.

He was pulling his boxers back up over his smug cock when he said, “Jesus, just relax, princess.” 

My eye twitched again.

“Bitch, I’m a fucking queen. I don’t have time for this shit.” I opened the door for him and gestured out to the hallway. “If you’re not going to have the decency to return the favor after all that, you can get the fuck out of my house.”

I rolled my hand in the air, urging him to pick up the pace.

“I assume you can find your way down.”

“Yo,” he said as he pulled his black t-shirt over his head, “you’re fucking crazy.”

I laughed and shook my head him. “Oh, come on, Garrett.” I picked up his shoes and thrust them into his hands. “That’s exactly why you wanted to be here in the first place.”

You see, Reader, Garrett made the fatal error: you can’t have the wild animal and expect her to roll over like a house cat when you’ve decided that you’re done petting her. You pet the kitty until the kitty is done with you.

There was no kiss goodnight as I pushed him, partially dressed, out of my apartment and closed the door.

I heard him mutter some obscenities under his breath, which don’t need to be repeated here,  as he shoved his bare feet into his shoes and clomped down the hall. 

Right around the time I heard the creak of him starting to make his way down the old stairs, a chime rang out from my bunched shorts on the floor next to me. I dug my phone out from the pocket. As I gathered the rest of my clothes from the hall with one hand, I unlocked my screen with the other to find a message from the one I was supposed to hook-up with.

“You seemed extra fiery tonight,” it read. “I hope no one got burned.”

Before I realized what was happening. I started to laugh. It started as a low tickle at the pit of my stomach, and foamed up through my chest until it frothed over my tongue. The laughter continued as I returned to my bedroom. I wasn’t concerned then about how awkward it would be for him if we ever had to work together. I laughed a little harder when I scooped up the errant condom and tossed it in the bin. I flicked off the light again and when my neurotic giggles tapered off, I unwrapped myself from my satiny shroud and lay there on top of my mess of sheets in the renewed quiet of the night.

Was my reaction justified? Perhaps it could have been handled better, yes. You, Reader, get to be the judge regardless. You interpret my words however you like. Such is the contract a humble writer makes with her audience. But I am human, and it would be dishonest of me to make the claim that I am beyond capable of overreacting or that I wasn’t displeased by my partner’s blatant disrespect for me and my pleasure. 

And I’m nothing if not honest with you, Reader.

I left that message on ‘read’ and reached back into my drawer, traded the little vibe for my trusty wand, and set to giving myself the pleasure I deserved before drifting off to a very sound sleep.