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“You’re absolutely right.”
“I wish you were in this bed with me.” His voice drops.
“There’s not enough room for the three of us,” I chuckle, reminding him that I’m carrying another human being.
“I’d make room.”
“What are you doing, Hunter?” I ask suspiciously, fully understanding what it means when his voice thickens like that.
“I’m thinking about how sweet you taste.”
“Do you even remember?” I tease.
“Oh, I remember everything about that sweet pussy of yours. It smells like ripe berries and tastes even sweeter.”
I scan my surroundings, taking note that no one is within earshot of me, so I indulge him.
“Can you smell me from there because my pussy is soaking wet?”
“Fuck, Megan,” he grunts.
“It’s a shame visiting hours are over. Who’s going to take care of that hard dick of yours?”
“Megan,” he growls.
“God, I love that fat dick when it’s inside me. In my mouth. In my pussy. Hell, it doesn’t matter.”
“Megan! Can anyone hear you?”
“I don’t give a shit who can hear,” I say in the best sex kitten voice I can muster. “Do you remember how wet I get for you, Hunter? I’m sitting in your club, drenched, in need of a good fuck. What are you going to do about it?”
“Shit–” I hear him violently grunt, then there’s a moment of heavy breathing and then complete silence.
I wait for a moment and then speak, “Hunter, you okay?”
“I expect you to come by here tomorrow before you go to the club, Megan.”
“To finish this up?” I chuckle.
“Good night, Megan,” he says before ending the call. I love it when I leave him hot and bothered. It’s fine. Tomorrow, I’ll lock the door to his private room and give him a quickie blow job.
Gage, the manager, moves behind the bar with practiced ease, filling drink orders without a second glance at me. He’s grown used to me sitting back here, keeping an eye on things.
“You doing okay, Megan?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder as he polishes a glass.
“Yeah, I just said goodnight to Hunter, and now I’m enjoying the quiet,” I answer, stretching my back. It’s been a long day already, but quiet nights like this make it easier. Less chaos means fewer problems to deal with, and that’s what I need right now. A little peace.
But I’ve learned the hard way—peace doesn’t last long around here.
My phone buzzes on the table. I glance down at the screen, seeing an unknown number flash. My stomach twists. Calls from unknown numbers rarely bring good news.
I hesitate for a moment before answering, keeping my voice steady. “Hello?”
There’s a pause on the other end, then a woman’s voice, shaking and laced with panic. “Is... is this the number? The one I was given? The one I’m supposed to call if... if something went wrong?”
I straighten up, tension rolling down my spine. I was told a call like this may happen, but it doesn’t make hearing the fear in her voice any easier. “Yes, this is the right number. What’s the problem?”
There is another pause, and then she speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was told a man would answer. The one who fixes things. The one who makes problems go away.”