Free Last Call by M.S. Brannon

down, though. I kiss him back with the same amount of force as I suck his breath from his body. My arms are wrapped around him, my fingernails raking down his back, while Jason groans into my mouth before breaking our kiss. As he grabs my shoulders, I worry I may have pissed him off until he abruptly turns me around. I plant my palms on the counter next to the sink then hear the tearing of a condom wrapper.
    When I look into the mirror, Jason only smirks before he rams his dick inside of me. It’s not slow or soft like Saturday. It’s rough and possessing. My ass is slamming into his hips, the slapping sound of our bodies marrying with the panting sounds of our pleasure. With every rock from his pelvis, I’m climbing higher and higher.
    Jason tugs my bra, freeing my right breast from the cup and pulls on my nipple, his fingers pinching my hardened bud and causing an explosion, leaving me in a sweet, glorious, satisfied state. The wave of pleasure sends me reeling into another dimension, crashing and coursing its way through my veins.
    Jason rams into me a few more times and then growls from his own release. I look into the mirror once again to see his teeth gritted and eyes hooded. His body trembles as he, too, is overcome with pleasure.
     
     
     

 

     
     
     
     
     
     
    J ason
    I t takes several moments before I can finally peel myself off Mariah’s back. After another impressive orgasm, I fall over her, overtaken by the feeling. This is the second intense orgasm in less than a week, and I don’t think it’s happenstance she is working in this very bar. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence she was in my club last Saturday night. There is a reason I’ve been dreaming about her for all these years. My subconscious is telling me this woman is meant to be in my life—not for love, but for lust, of course.
    She has been put on this planet to become the ultimate pleasure for me. It may sound arrogant, but nothing else explains why our paths have crossed. Nothing else explains why she’s been starring in my dreams and it’s always me chasing her and trying to fuck her. It’s been a prequel to Saturday night’s invitation in my office and to today’s activity in the bathroom. My dreams have been preparing me to have this woman any way and anywhere I can.
    After we right our clothing, Mariah looks down to her watch. She leans over the counter, looking in the mirror, and fixes her hair; also making sure her shirt is in place. When she turns around, our eyes connect once again. She looks so lost yet like she’s finally been found. The uncanny look is impossible to decipher.
    She moves to open the door, but I stop her from exiting. I lift my hand to her cheek and run the pad of my thumb over her flush skin. “Until next time, Mariah.”
    She releases a nervous, quiet giggle then pulls the door open. And just like last Saturday night, she’s gone. Without another word, she’s just gone. However, this time, I know where to find her, and I think I know how I can bring her back to me. For now, though, I need a drink.
    Turning my plan over in my mind, I pull open the door and exit the bathroom. When I walk to the bar, she looks to me with the same flushed cheeks as she hands me my bill. I guess I will need to get a drink somewhere else.
    When I pull out my card and pass it over to her, she turns, running the plastic through the machine, punching in numbers, and then yanks the printed receipt from the slot. While she’s looking for a pen, I take the opportunity to stare at her ass. Damn, she’s fucking hot.
    Feeling generous, I look down at the bill and give her a tip while she finishes pouring another man his beer. Then I walk away from the bar, only pausing to look back and wink before I make my exit.
    Strolling down the sidewalk, I feel incredibly relaxed and satisfied. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this satisfied. Kudos, Mariah, kudos.
     
     
     
    M ariah
    I watch as Jason strolls from the bar