On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2) (30 page)

Taking her hands in mine, I pin them down at her sides. I align my face with her tits to suck on her nipples like a madman, and begin a relentless pounding as her pussy grips my cock even harder. I take in her eyes, dilated into black wells of lust and need, as they watch my lips pulling on her nipples.

“Oh, my goodness, Levi. Yes, suck on them, bite them, pull them, I can’t take it. I’m so close. God, it feels so good.
Fuck me.
Levi, please.”

Her words impact me with the strength of a freight train booming through the night. I growl as I flip her over.

“On all fours, Braun. I need hard and fast too, baby.”

With a soft moan, she complies, now ass up on her hands and knees on top of my bar, giving me all of her, open and ready, and I could die a happy man at the sight of her so compliant, so perfect. I swear to all that’s holy this woman is my end.

I pause, taking a moment to absorb her.

“Levi. Are you okay?” She looks over her shoulder confused that I haven’t taken her yet.

“Hell, baby, I’m more than okay. Look over at the mirrors. Do you see yourself right now? The fucking angels are weeping at your perfection. I just need a minute to calm the fuck down. I want to last.”

“Are you kidding me, right now? It’s not time for poetry, Levi. I can’t wait, I need you to pound me, I need to be
touched
,” she says, and once again she tries to put her hand on her pussy—
my
pussy.

“No fucking way, Scrappy.” I pull her back toward me; she’s now sitting on my thighs as I kneel on my haunches. The little minx looks behind at me. Catching my eye, she smirks before slowly grinding up and around my cock, teasing it, taunting it… Finally, after what feels like forever, she allows me to slide me back inside her sweet cunt, her tight walls and heat engulfing me, welcoming me home.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Look at you owning this shit. Yeah, that’s right, baby. Take what’s yours.” I kiss her neck, running my scruff along her neck, whispering how fucking hot and sexy she is.

I pull us up so we’re both on our knees. Turning my head, I catch our reflection in the mirror that covers the bar’s back wall. I gasp out loud at the sight of us, my cock twitching inside Braun as the view made me even harder. Taking Braun’s head in my hand I gently turn it so she meets my gaze in the mirror.

“Look at us, Scrappy. Watch as you take me in and out of that sweet cunt of yours. Fuck, you look so good on me.” I pull her back tight to me after we’ve watched her slide me in and out a few times. I’m so hard I could fuck her through the granite bar top. Wetness soaks the back of Braun’s legs as I reach my hands around her front, one flicking her clit, the other holding her close to me, clutching her tits.

We move together in tandem, chasing the high we can only get from this, from each other. It’s a routine of give and take, and fuck me, if I don’t plan on taking this right here, over and over again.

Braunwyn changes positions, moving so she’s now back down on all fours, elbows and knees on the bar’s surface. Not wasting any time, I move the hand on her clit in a rhythmic pulse, matching my cock’s, thrust for thrust, as I bring us both to the edge.

I growl and I take one last thrust as wave after wave of tiny electrical currents move from my head to my toes, I can feel my cum shooting out in heavy spurts, filling Braunwyn, a thought which only serves to prolong the sensations repeatedly taking over my body. An impulse to hold tight onto Braun overtakes me as the roller coaster feeling washes over me and I continue to ride out the most intense orgasm of my life. Returning to earth.

I move to her side before pulling her down on top of me on the bar, allowing us both to enjoy the aftershocks.

“Braun,” I call, after a few minutes of lying there.

“Mmmm?” She’s breathless, still out of it.

“Were those panties made of Titanium?”

She just looks up at me and laughs before nuzzling in closer to me, and I hold her in my arms in the pub I used to feel was “home”.

I was wrong.

This is home.
Braunwyn
is my home.

Braunwyn

E
ver since the
night a few weeks back with Chase, Levi has become quite overprotective. I mean he’s always been bit overprotective of me and the rest of the girls, but now he’s taken it to a new level. I guess he never thought that a client would ever do what Chase did.

He wasn’t kidding when he called Finn wanting to up the security, that’s for sure. He’s installed cameras in the halls and the parking lot, as well as having Finn’s friend Russ install those doors in the staffroom that lock after you automatically once they close. We all have those key cards like they do in hotels to get in and out. Levi’s also hired two new bouncers, one for weekends and one to work three nights a week, along with being on-call, if needed. The overzealous man also insisted that I take a self-defence class at the Centre. I only agreed because he decided, after talking it over with Big John, that all Pub Fiction staff should go for the training, including the men.

After four one-hour classes, I’m happy to report that I passed with flying colours. It was actually a lot of fun hanging out as a staff group, getting to battle each other, taking the men down to the mats. Levi was able to convince Robin, the Centre’s coordinator, to teach the class on Sundays; seeing as that was the day we were all free. It worked out perfectly because Susan, the volunteer art instructor, ran her toddler painting class at the same time so I was able to bring Emme with me, which of course she loved.

I also made sure I met with Hillary a few times, as well, since the event obviously acted as a trigger for me, making me think about Shawn’s suicide again. I was happy to have Hillary tell me I was still “normal” and not, in fact, regressing as I’d been worrying about.

Since we all passed Levi’s insisted-upon training, along with having given up our spare time to take the course, Levi decided to take everyone out for dinner tonight as way to celebrate the course being a success. He was extremely happy that everyone was so eager to participate, and even Will managed to make it to all the classes (I think the fact that he’s on his last chance was a huge factor).

Will approached me to apologize after that night too. I assured him that his not being there wasn’t to blame, despite Levi telling him differently until I set him straight. Eventually, Levi apologized to Will and things have gotten back to normal at work, a feeling I know we are all grateful for.

I walk into Grams’ house after Levi drops me off after the self-defence class dinner, feeling confident and content. But then I feel my shoulders begin to get heavy, as if my body knows something isn’t right. Kicking off my brown Mary Jane’s, I book it up the stairs to check on Emmerson. It’s only 8:30 p.m., but I know she’s probably been sleeping for about an hour now. Opening her door, I immediately see her face nestled in her covers as the golden glow from her Minion light illuminates her soft features. I tiptoe back down the stairs, making sure to avoid the creaky step.

I can hear Lewis and Grams in the kitchen, whispering back and forth, my name falling from their lips more than once. As I get closer to the kitchen entrance, I see that the door is closed, which makes me more curious because Grams never closes that door; being into Feng Shui, she says it messes up the house’s energy flow. I stand on the other side of the archway, feeling like Scooby-Doo’s Daphne with her ear pressed coyly against some suspect’s door, eavesdropping—rather than my usual Scrappy self—trying to decipher some clues as to what the heck they might be talking about. All I can pick up is that it’s something that involves whispering and my name, and that I don’t make a very good girl detective. I decide it’s time to let my presence be known. I call out and open the door.

“I’m home, Grams.”

“Oh, Braunwyn. Hi, sweetheart,” she says.

Use of full name. Not good.

“Hey Lewis, how are you?” I ask before giving him a big hug. I love Lewis, he is the perfect mate for Grams. He always treats her like gold and also fits right in with both Little Miss and myself. It’s like he’s always been a part of our family.

“Sit, sit, join us. We were just going to have another glass of Tio Pepe. Actually, you’re just in time, love.” Lewis motions to the bottle of sherry and the chair across from Grams. His Irish accent is a bit more noticeable, a tell that this isn’t their first glass tonight.

That tight feeling in my shoulders quickly moves to the pit of my stomach as I agree to join them. I take the offered glass and sit. Now I
know
something is up because Lewis and Grams are like creatures of habit; they never drink more than a glass, and the sherry is reserved for special occasions.

Just as I’m about to speak, my phone signals a text.

“Excuse me a sec,” I say. I know it’s from Levi because of the alert sound of Scooby-Doo calling Shaggy’s name. I wouldn’t normally look until Grams and I were done talking, but I have a bad feeling and I’m hoping Levi’s text is the thing I need to get me through this conversation. Glancing down, I smile. As usual, it’s like he knows when I need him.

Levi:
I hate that you’re both not here with me. Month end sucks, sorry baby. I’ll make it up 2 u. Think of me tonight.

Me:
Always xx

Levi:
Oh and u better get some good rest, ’cause tomorrow night u r all mine. Gonna make you sore baby. Always. Night xx

Me:
so bossy. Xx Always.

I place my phone beside me on the table then take a short sip of my Tio, the strong taste lingering on my tongue as it makes its way down my throat, the subtle burn letting me know it’s one of their better bottles.

“What’s going on, Grams? I heard you and Lewis whispering, and then I heard my name. Is everything okay?”

Grams takes a deep breath before topping her glass back up.

“Braun, sweetie, I need to talk to you about something. Now, I need you to listen and not freak out right away.” Grams’ watering eyes meet mine and I know before she says it.

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” I ask.

She’d been having some pain coupled with other symptoms that had us thinking she should go get checked out. She kept refusing, saying it would pass. I didn’t even know that she had finally gone to see her doctor.

Oh, God, please don’t be dying.

“Grams, no. Tell me you’re not dying.” I blurt out. I don’t mean to sound selfish by putting it out there like that, but honestly, she’s my person and I’d rather know, you know,
band-aid
style…
just rip the buggar off.

Tears stream down both our faces as she reaches for my hands across the black tablecloth. “No, baby. I’m not dying. Not yet, anyway,” she smiles.

“Jesus, Grams.” I try to wipe away the tears cascading down my face. Relief never felt so good. Lewis places a box of Kleenex in front of us, and pats my back before heading over to Grams, giving her a kiss on the head, and taking his seat next to her.

“But, I do need to have an operation. It turns out they’ve found a spot of cancer on my ovaries. I’ve got a very small tumour they need to remove, but before you go thinking the worst, my gynaecological surgeon thinks that it’s possible to remove all of the cancer with a simple surgery. We’ve caught it early enough so the prognosis is very good. I’ll be having the surgery, then I’ll follow that up with some chemotherapy, if I need it. But it’s not likely, since we caught it early.”

“Oh, Grams, I’m so sorry.” I get up, knocking my chair over, so I can go to her. She hugs me tight and we cry into each other’s shoulders and necks, whispering words of encouragement to each other. And, finally, we start laughing from who knows what, deciding that there is no way a Daniels woman is going to let “a spot of cancer” get her down.

“Grams, can we please stop sipping sherry now and move on to something we can actually drink?” I laugh, pushing my glass into the centre of the table.

“Aye, I’ve got just the thing.” Lewis takes my half-finished glass of sherry and dumps it in the sink, rinsing my glass, before reaching into the fridge for the chilled bottle of Moscato I put in there the other night when Levi was over for dinner.

“Perfect. Thank you.” I pour Grams and I generous dollops into the wine glasses Lewis handed me.

“I’ll just be watching telly. You doves do your business, and don’t worry about Emmerson, love. I’ll tend to her in the morning, if need be.” Lewis smiles before leaving us.

“He’s too sweet, Grams. When are you going to tell that man ‘yes’?”

Poor Lewis has been asking Grams for months to move in together with him, here or at his place. A part of me thinks she hasn’t answered him because she’d worry about Emme and I. I’ve tried to tell her we’d be fine with either Lewis moving in here, or with finding our own place if she wanted to sell the house to move into Lewis’.

“Well, let me tell you all the things I need to while it’s all fresh in my mind, then we can talk about Lewis and I. Sound good?”

I nod before taking a way too big sip of my wine, and sit back, ready to listen to Gram’s plan of attack.

Grams ends up telling me everything I need to know about the procedure. That it’s happening in two weeks, that she’ll likely be in hospital for three or four days, and that home recovery could be up to six months. Grams also tells me that Lewis will be moving in with us to help take care of her, as well as help around the house.

“You little sneak. I was hoping you’d tell that wonderful man ‘yes’. I’m happy for that, Grams. We love Lewis,” I add, so happy for her that I cry all over again. He’s such a good man and I’m just sad that it’s taking cancer to get them where they both have wanted to be for a while now.

Grams also insists that I am not to take a leave from school or final exams or work, and that I’d better not pull away from Levi while all this happens. In fact, she encouraged me to let him help me and to let him in even more.

As we chat about Levi now, it’s taking all my might not to reach for my phone, call him and fall apart. But I don’t. I want to be strong for Grams. I can lean on him tomorrow and every day after that. I know without a doubt that Levi is my yestermorrow.