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Miami Heat: After Hours

Miami Heat: After Hours

Chapter 1: Sparks at the Bar

The Miami summer was a beast, the kind of heat that clung to your skin like a lover who wouldn’t let go. Inside The Coral Dive, the air was thick with the scent of salt, tequila, and desperation. Martin, the bartender with a smirk sharp enough to cut glass, leaned against the counter, wiping down a glass with a rag that had seen better days. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands sticking to the sweat on her neck, and her tank top clung to her curves like it was begging to be peeled off.

She caught sight of Sergio the moment he walked in. He was all rough edges and raw power, a construction worker fresh off a long day, his jeans slung low and his t-shirt stained with the grit of hard labor. His biceps flexed as he pushed through the crowd, and Martin’s eyes zeroed in on the unmistakable bulge straining against his denim. Her pussy clenched instinctively, a rush of heat pooling between her thighs. Damn, she thought, I could climb that man like a fucking jungle gym.

Sergio slid onto a barstool right in front of her, his dark eyes locking with hers. The air between them crackled, electric and dangerous. 'Gimme a beer, sweetheart,' he drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Martin arched a brow, tossing the rag over her shoulder. 'Sweetheart? Oh, honey, you’ve got the wrong girl if you think I’m here to be your sugar. Name’s Martin, and I pour drinks, not flattery. You want a beer, you ask nice.'

He grinned, a slow, predatory smile that made her pulse race. 'Alright, Martin. Pretty please, with a cherry on top, can I get a cold one? Been busting my ass all day under that damn sun, and I’m parched.'

She popped the cap off a bottle and slid it across the counter, her fingers brushing his just long enough to feel the heat of his calloused skin. 'Busting your ass, huh? Looks like you’ve got plenty of it to go around,' she shot back, her gaze flicking to his tight jeans with zero subtlety.

Sergio chuckled, taking a long swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 'You always this forward, or am I just lucky tonight?'

'Forward’s my middle name, big guy. Life’s too short to play coy. And I’m betting you’ve got more than luck in those pants,' Martin quipped, leaning forward just enough to give him a view down her top. She wasn’t shy, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let him think he had the upper hand.

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer, the scent of sweat and sawdust rolling off him in waves. 'Keep talking like that, and I might have to show you just how much I’m packing. You got a break coming up, or do I gotta wait ‘til closing to see if you’re all bark and no bite?'

Martin smirked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. 'Stick around ‘til after hours, Sergio. I don’t bite… unless you ask real nice.'

The hours ticked by, the bar emptying out until it was just the two of them. The tension had built to a fever pitch, every glance and barbed word stoking the fire. As Martin locked the front door, she turned to find Sergio standing behind her, his presence overwhelming. Her breath hitched as she felt the heat radiating off him, her body already wet and aching with need.

'Well, damn,' she purred, stepping closer until their bodies were inches apart. 'Looks like you’re ready to play, huh? Let’s see if you can keep up.'

Sergio’s hands were on her in an instant, rough and hungry, pulling her against him as their mouths crashed together in a bruising kiss. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she could feel just how hard he was, his cock pressing insistently against her hip. The promise of what was to come had her dripping, her body screaming for more as they stumbled toward the back room, ready to ignite the night.

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