❝i went down to a place in bed-stuy,
a little liquor on my lips.
i let him climb inside my body
and held him captive in my kiss.❞

❘❘

TIPSY AND TURNED ON, pressed against the bar as he pounds into me, I can't string together a real thought.

This time I know his name—because Julian Rivera thought it was fitting to give me his full name before he railed me into the bar.

What else do I really know about him?

Julian Rivera is an amazing kisser and an even better fuck. That's almost all I know about him, and honestly, it's all I need to.

He's the right amount of force, a push and pull, and the best parts of good and bad; fast and dirty. Something about his bare skin against mine completely drives out anything but the delirious sensations of pain and pleasure and reckless abandon.

The lights are low and our clothes are on the bar floor; there isn't a fucking care in the world.

"Oh, oh..." I gasp, my head falling back, my lips breaking free.

He's quick to find my jaw, my throat, my collarbone—every motion bleeding into the next until I'm trembling under a single touch. I wrap my legs around his waist, his fingers carve into my hips. I rake my nails down his back, his groans spill out along my chest.

One hand cups my neck to keep me tuned to the right angle as I writhe, taking each brutal stroke. I dig my nails into his arms to keep him with me; trace the swirling ink all the way to his wrists.

We work to the same erratic rhythm. With broken pants and breathless moans, a nibble here and a pinch there, Julian seems to match whatever I give him with más.

I pry his hand from my neck and slip his thumb into my mouth. Julian doesn't stop fucking me, but the hot kisses along my throat come to a halt. A husky groan falls from his lips, and as he pulls away, our eyes clash with something fierce.

Part of me thinks he's about to stop, yank me to my knees and shove his cock down my throat. The other part of me wants him to. Bad.

My cheeks hollow as I suck, holding eye contact. A tendril of lust uncoils in my stomach, a wave of power overcomes me. There's a raw look in his eyes—an untamed, unhinged haze that makes me feel like I could destroy anything. I fucking love it.

"Hmmm," Julian hums, tugging his thumb from my mouth and swiping it along my cheek. A soft, wet track remains, burning in the exposed heat of the bar.

I lick my lips and give him a sated smile. "Mhmm."

"Neva Álvarez..."

Fuck, I regret telling him my full name. Even if it sounds so fucking good in that mix of strained arousal. Because as he drawls it softly, he slows.

My nails claw up his back as I moan and try to grind onto him. Desperate for him to continue, I whine, "Julian..."

His cock throbs inside of me, but he doesn't move. Julian stands perfectly still, arms around my waist to keep me flush against him and dark eyes boring into me with that challenge that I knew would kill me.

"What?" I breathe in frustration.

"You're beautiful."

Oh, okay. My cheeks warm, but I roll my eyes. "I'd be even more beautiful if you fucked me right, yeah?"

Weakly, I grasp his neck and run my hands into his hair, trying to reel him in. He obliges with a chaste kiss, and my teeth ground together at the sudden restraint he's exercising.

"Julian," I pant. "Please."

"Nothing serious, huh?" he asks, swollen lips inching into a pout. "You really don't want anything serious?"

The question comes too fucking quick, and it winds me. I rear back in surprise, my lips parting with a jumble of words that won't come out. All that manages to escape is a breathless gasp.

What? What is even going on right now?

My heart drops and my entire body stiffens, but I blink and somehow convince myself I imagined it. A loose smile tugs at his lips, replacing whatever fleeting, or imaginary, emotion had just captured and killed the moment. 

Julian blurs, pulls out and then slams into me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. A bruising kiss steals the shallow gasp, and suddenly, it's like it never even happened.

Maybe it didn't.

All I know is I'm stuck, clenching around his cock and crying out his name. Spinning, spiraling, fucking indulging in him; in letting him fuck me into an impossible dizziness.

"Ah...Julian..." The words just keep bubbling up in a mess, smothered by the heady kiss that only gets harsher and harder with each rough thrust.

Something strangled slips into our sloppy symphony of moans. I close my eyes and try to hear past my own voice to understand him. "Sí, sí, Neva, I'm..."

"Yes, yes, yes," I hiss as his cock swells. Another low groan rumbles up his throat, and I just keep going, squeezing my eyes shut, tugging at his bottom lip, gnashing teeth together, clutching at his shoulders and riding out the sensational storm of feeling.

It keeps unraveling with heat, slowly expanding, blooming, bursting into flames. Like the split second of a violent euphoria before combustion.

My legs shake. Julian jerks.

Blissful and brash, the high blows through me; I come undone with another string of tangled words and thoughts and feelings. Julian slurs something soft as I cling to him, taking those last few sloppy thrusts before he stills.

I sigh contentedly and then lean back on my elbows with a laugh. "I needed that."

"Yeah?" Julian hums, closing the gap I just created. His lips meet mine, and I melt into it without thinking. Blame it on some post-coital haze, but I practically purr into the kiss. It's soft with a timid exploration, a question, a gentle request.

Fuck. No.

Pushing at his shoulders, I refuse to meet his gaze as he pulls out and steps away from me. I slip off the bar, reach for my clothes and dress in a hurry.

When I finally do spare him a glance, he's rolling the condom off gingerly. "You got a..."

"Trash," I say hastily and point around the bar. "I'll take it out after. I need to..."

I need to get away from him.

"I need to wipe down the bar," I breathe instead.

He dresses quietly, but it doesn't matter how quiet he is. His presence looms behind me like a wall of heat, a dangerously tempting offer disguised in denim and ink. Ten minutes later, I can still taste him on my lips.

Something sweet. Something too fucking sweet.

"Do you want me to go?" Julian finally asks. Hesitantly.

I shrug, refusing to turn. "You can if you want to."

He doesn't leave. As I swipe a new rag along the bar indifferently, Julian lingers. Fully clothed and silently.

Every few minutes, I sneak a glance at him, expecting him to up and bail like he should. Casual sex aside, I don't know why he's still here, but he is. Leaning against the bar casually, his phone in his hands and his brows furrowed, Julian Rivera obviously doesn't get the message.

Finally, I ask, "Why are you still here?"

His gaze flickers from his phone to me with mild surprise. "I was going to walk you home."

Fuck. My. Life.

My heart seems to hiccup, but I quirk a brow at him. "Who says I'm going home?"

One corner of his lips twitches. Julian seems to have mastered that fucking swoon-worthy characteristic—a barely there, effortlessly stealthy smile.

I hate that I want to know what he's thinking.

"You got another man on tap tonight, Neva?"

"Maybe."

"Come out with me."

Despite everything, I can't fight back a smile. "I was joking, Julian. I'm going home. Alone."

"No, I mean, come out with me this weekend."

The forgotten conversation blazes to the front of my mind. That surreal, sensual moment when everything serious didn't make sense. "I'm not looking for something serious," I say softly. "I meant that."

"I know, but I think we could have fun." Julian shrugs.

I toss the rag into the bin behind the bar and then turn away to start with the trash. Somehow, it's easier to let him down when I'm not looking at him. "Julian, I just...I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm all for this. I really am, but that's it."

Soft footsteps approach. Abandoning the trash, I wait patiently as he sweeps my hair away from my neck. His breath fans along my neck. "Saturday night."

I melt when he seals the offer with a kiss behind my ear.

"Fine," I sigh in defeat. "What are we doing?"

"Nothing fancy," he promises. "Not even close to date material, Neva. I actually have some business, but I think you could help."

"Oh?"

Julian sidesteps me with a victorious grin. I gnaw on my bottom lip as he grabs the trash and then expertly twists and ties it with finality. The conversation is over. "Don't worry about it. Let's go."

"You don't have to walk me home," I admit, heat creeping into my cheeks. "I actually drove here."

"I forget that you're the only person in New York that owns a car."

Everything inside of me thaws as he chuckles warmly, and suddenly, I know that I'm fucked.

❘❘

**FUCKED. Literally and figuratively...maybe mentally and emotionally. Men like Julian have that effect, I suppose.