Page 17 of Broken Strings
I jolt as Gunner nips at my clit. “The lord has nothing to do with the devil’s tongue.”
“Well, if the devil teaches tricks like this, I’m joining the Church of Satan.”
Gunner barks out a laugh before delving back into my pussy. His tongue lapping my wetness drowns out the sounds of nature. He grips my hips as he licks my center before entering me again with not one but three fingers. He pushes up and twists, doing some sort of finger aerobics I didn’t think was possible.
“Move, Gunner. Please, move your face,” I beg. “It’s going to happen again.”
Gunner doesn’t move. Instead, he doubles his efforts with his fingers and licks my clit in perfect circular motions. The man does a better job than my vibrator. My hands fist and I buck, but it’s no use. His hold is too firm. Once again, my legs shake, and I explode directly into his mouth.
Once Gunner has his fill, he places me gently on the ground and covers me with his body. “That was spectacular. Champion squirter.”
I smack him in the chest before groaning and covering my face with my hands.
Gunner takes my hands and pins them to my sides before crushing his lips to mine. Our tastes mingle as he opens his mouth and our tongues dance. He breaks the kiss, smiling as he strokes my matted hair from my face. “You all right?”
I nod. “Yes, Lightheaded, but I feel better than I have in a long while. If the bartending thing doesn’t work out, I know a great escort service I can connect you with. With your skills, you’d have them lined up around the block.”
“My services are already spoken for.”
I push up, and he tumbles back. My eyes are slits as I look at him. “Who do you work for?”
Gunner laughs and grabs my waist, drawing me to him. He places a peck on my nose. “You. I never want to be with another woman so long as that pussy can drench my face.”
Chapter 9
Gunner
“Well, well, looks like TMZ is here to sing us another pretty song,” one of the regulars says from the end of the bar.
“Shut the fuck up, Norm.” I place the last glass on the drying rack, toss my rag under the counter, and walk the length of the bar with my eyes trained on Cash.
After our time in the woods, Cash was spent. I wanted to take care of her, but she insisted she needed some time to herself. A part of me was worried she’d freak out and walk out of my life as quickly as she walked into it.
“What’s your pleasure?”
Silence hangs a few beats between us as she assesses me, a tiny grin turning her lips before she leans in. “Not here for the beer, but if you’re offering...”
Her eyes are a wild shade of blue, her gaze so intense it’s like a sucker punch to my gut every time I look at her.
I crack a bottle, setting it on the counter. “I’m always offering.”
If she wants, I’ll offer her much more than the beer. Hell, I’ll gladly send all these sorry sacks home just to eat that fuckin’ cunt again on this very bar.
She doesn’t drink, just plays with the cool bottle as her eyes move around the room. “I hoped there wouldn’t be many people here.” She finally takes a small sip of her beer, her mind still working. “I’ve been playin’ around with a new song. It’s slower, though. I haven’t done anything this slow before. If you don’t mind, I might try it out.”
My ego is a little bruised that she came here for my stage and not me. But I also want to hear what she wrote about me. It has to be about me. She curled up with a guitar at home and wrote a song after I banged her brains out. “Hell, yeah. My place is yours. I’ll flip the corner lights on, hit the mic, and you’re good to go.”
“No lights. I like it dim. This is perfect.” Her eyes are on me, a small smile lifting her lips.
“Whatever you say, Sparrow.”
“You gonna give us more of that Loretta Shaw special?” Norm calls from across the bar, a drunken slur to his words.
“Shut the fuck up, Norm. Don’t make me throw you out on your ass again.”
“No Loretta tonight, Norm,” Cash replies, tipping the neck of her beer bottle toward him. “Tonight, you’re only getting me.”
He nods, a grin curving his lips. “If you say so, sweetheart.”