Chapter 1: Shots and Seduction
The neon lights of The Rusty Anchor flickered against the sticky bar counter as Beata slid onto a stool, her leather jacket creaking with every confident move. She was a force—sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and with a body that could stop traffic. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes scanned the room like a predator on the hunt. She wasn’t here for small talk or cheap beer. She was here for something—or someone.
Tony, the bartender, caught her gaze from behind the counter. He was all rough edges and sly smirks, his forearms flexing as he wiped down a glass with a rag that had seen better days. His black tee clung to his chest, hinting at the hard lines beneath, and Beata didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her curves.
“Whiskey, neat,” she ordered, her voice a low purr that cut through the bar’s hum. “And don’t skimp on the good stuff. I can tell when a man’s holding out on me.”
Tony chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Oh, I don’t hold out, sweetheart. I give exactly what’s asked for—and then some.” He poured the amber liquid with a flourish, sliding the glass across to her. “On the house. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
Beata raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip, her lips curling into a smirk as the burn hit her throat. “Careful, bartender. I’m not here to play nice. I take what I want, too.”
“Is that so?” Tony leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And what exactly are you looking to take tonight?”
Her eyes locked on his, a challenge sparking between them. “Maybe I’m looking for a man who can keep up. Think you’ve got the stamina, or are you all talk and cheap shots?”
Tony grinned, unfazed, his gaze dipping to her lips. “Baby, I’ve got more than stamina. I’ve got tricks that’ll make you forget your own damn name. But you’ve gotta ask nicely.”
Beata laughed, a sharp, biting sound that turned heads. “Nicely? Oh, honey, I don’t do nice. I do hard, fast, and unforgettable. So, are you pouring drinks all night, or are you gonna step up and show me what you’ve got?”
The air between them crackled, thick with tension and unspoken promises. Tony’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something primal. He tossed the rag aside and rounded the bar, closing the distance between them in two strides. “Shift’s over in ten. Back room. Don’t keep me waiting, or I’ll start without you.”
Beata’s smirk widened as she downed the rest of her whiskey, the heat pooling low in her belly. “Oh, I’ll be there. And trust me, you won’t be starting a damn thing without me.”
As Tony disappeared to clock out, Beata felt the anticipation build, her pulse racing with every passing second. She wasn’t just horny—she was ravenous. And when they finally collided in that back room, she knew it would be explosive. The thought of his cock, hard and ready, made her wet already, her mind racing with images of him panting and sweating beneath her. She’d have him dripping with need before the night was through, and she’d make damn sure he came begging for more.
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