The Rusty Anchor was a dive bar that smelled like stale beer and desperation, but to Nik Schmidt and his crew, it was a second home. Neon beer signs flickered above the sticky high-top table where Nik sat, his tousled brown hair catching the dim light, his piercing blue eyes glinting with mischief. The clink of glasses and the roar of rowdy laughter filled the air, mingling with the faint, greasy aroma of fried wings. Across from him, Jake and Marcus were already three beers deep, their faces flushed with the kind of buzz that made every story sound like a legend.
“Alright, alright, enough about your Tinder disaster, Jake,” Nik said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk, his long fingers wrapped around a frosty pint. “I’ve been sittin’ on a story that’ll make you two cry into your shitty IPAs.”
Jake, a wiry guy with a perpetual five o’clock shadow, raised an eyebrow, slamming his glass down with a dramatic thud. “Oh, here we go. Nik’s got another ‘my wife’s a fuckin’ porn star’ tale. Lay it on us, man. I need something to live vicariously through since my last date ghosted me mid-text.”
Marcus, broader and quieter, with a shaved head and a perpetual grin, chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah, bro, spill. I’m still recovering from the last time you bragged about Amelia. I had to take a cold shower just to sleep that night.”
Nik’s grin widened, a flash of pride crossing his face at the mention of his wife. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Listen up, assholes, because this one’s fresh. Last weekend, Amelia and I decided to christen the new rug in the living room. You know, the fluffy white one that looks like it belongs in a damn palace? Yeah, well, it’s not so white anymore.”
Jake barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his beer. “Jesus, man, you’re gonna get me kicked outta here for spittin’ this shit everywhere. What the hell happened? She tie you up again or somethin’?”
“Nah, not this time,” Nik said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and raw heat. “This was straight-up, no-holds-barred, rough-and-tumble fuckin’. She was in one of her moods, you know? The kind where she looks at me like I’m her goddamn prey. Told me to get on my knees and—well, let’s just say she wasn’t askin’ for a foot massage.”
Marcus let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Bro, I don’t know how you keep up with her. Most women I’ve been with are like, ‘Oh, be gentle,’ and I’m over here dreamin’ of a chick who’d just grab me by the throat and take charge. Amelia sounds like she’d eat us alive.”
“Oh, she would,” Nik said with a laugh, taking a long pull from his beer. “And she’d enjoy every damn second of it. So, we’re on this rug, right? She’s got me pinned down at first, all bossy and shit, tellin’ me exactly how she wants it. Then she flips the script, gets on all fours, and looks back at me with those eyes—fuck, man, you know the ones. Like she’s daring me to keep up. Doggy’s her favorite, and she ain’t shy about lettin’ the whole damn neighborhood know it. I swear, the way she screams, I’m surprised the cops didn’t show up.”
Jake’s jaw dropped, his beer forgotten in his hand. “Holy shit, dude. She’s that loud? Like, no shame, just full-on feral?”
“No shame at all,” Nik said, his voice dripping with pride. “She owns it. Loves it hard, loves it loud, and doesn’t give a single fuck who hears. I’m just the lucky bastard who gets to be on the other end of it. We went at it until we were both a sweaty mess, rug be damned. I think we broke a lamp, too, but who’s countin’?”
Marcus leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face with a groan. “Man, I hate you. I’m sittin’ here with blue balls just listenin’ to this shit. How the hell did you land a sex goddess like that? I’m out here datin’ girls who think missionary’s ‘adventurous.’”
Nik’s grin softened for a moment, a protective edge creeping into his tone. “Hey, watch it, alright? She’s my sex goddess, and don’t you forget it. Amelia and I, we’re locked down tight. Monogamous as fuck. She’s got my balls in a vice, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But yeah, I got lucky. She’s not just wild in bed—she’s my best friend, my partner in crime. Doesn’t mean I can’t brag, though.”
Jake rolled his eyes, though there was no real malice in it. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re whipped. But damn, man, I’d kill to have a woman look at me the way you say she looks at you. Like, what’s her secret? She got some kinda voodoo magic or what?”
Nik laughed, shaking his head. “No magic, just pure, unfiltered Amelia. She knows what she wants and ain’t afraid to demand it. First time we hooked up, she straight-up told me, ‘If you can’t keep up, don’t waste my time.’ I’ve been runnin’ to catch up ever since. And trust me, I ain’t complainin’.”
Marcus raised his glass, a wry smile on his lips. “To Amelia, then. The baddest bitch we’ve never met. May she keep fuckin’ Nik’s brains out ‘til he’s too old to walk.”
Jake clinked his glass against Marcus’s, grinning like an idiot. “And may she have a sister who’s just as freaky and single as hell.”
Nik joined in the toast, though his eyes narrowed playfully. “Keep dreamin’, Jake. Amelia’s one of a kind, and she’s all mine. You two can fight over the leftovers at the bar. I’ve got the real deal waitin’ for me at home.”
The trio erupted into laughter, the kind that echoed through the bar and drew a few curious glances. Nik leaned back in his chair, the buzz of the beer and the thrill of the memory warming him from the inside out. He could still hear Amelia’s voice in his head, sharp and commanding, her breath hot against his ear as she told him exactly how to make her scream. He took another sip of his beer, hiding the smirk that crept up at the thought. His buddies could joke all they wanted, but they’d never know the half of it. Amelia wasn’t just a story to tell over drinks—she was his everything, a force of nature who’d claimed him body and soul.
As the night wore on and the bar grew louder, Nik’s mind kept drifting back to her. To the way she’d looked at him after they’d collapsed on that ruined rug, her dark hair a mess, her lips curled in a satisfied smirk as she’d purred, “Not bad, Schmidt. Let’s see if you’ve got another round in you.” He’d barely survived the first, but damn if he wasn’t ready to dive back in the second he got home.
For now, though, he’d let Jake and Marcus drool over the details, let them imagine a woman they’d never touch. Nik knew the truth—Amelia was his, and he was hers, in every raw, messy, electric way that mattered. And that was a story no amount of barroom bravado could ever fully capture.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.