Chapter Six

Oh, she could not stop thinking about him. Incessantly, obsessively.

She'd never nearly come that quickly, while fucking clothed nonetheless, grinding against the hard, taut muscles of his thigh like a horny teenager.

She replayed the images ceaselessly, summoned the cadence of his voice when he called her a good girl to drive her over the edge each night that she touched herself and wished it were his thick, calloused fingers circling her clit instead.

She hadn't seen him in a week. Not since one of the college kids knocked on the back door and interrupted their ravenous escapade. She hadn't seen him leave, but after she distractedly poured beer for the few customers who had been waiting for a drink, her mind clouded with heavy lust, she'd returned to the back room to find it empty.

She'd initially told herself that was for the best, even as her heart sank and the unsatiated space between her legs ached. She had promised herself that she wouldn't fuck any of her customers... would never blur that line between patron and... anything more. But she couldn't get him out of her fucking head.

She missed him, as much as she was unwilling to admit that even to herself. A dull ache occupied a large space in her chest, stretching out and encompassing more and more of her body each day that his stool remained empty.

Another part of her was pissed at him. She hadn't been the one to initiate anything. He was the one who had followed her into the back room, called her a pain in his ass, then pinned her to the wall and just devoured her mouth. Even the thought alone made her core ache with need.

You're pissed at him, though, she reminded herself, he's a fucking control freak and he's vague and infuriating and... so, so pretty, and wide, and strong, and funny and NO, fuck, focus on anything else.

He wasn't going to come back, and that was for the best. She didn't need to forgo her own morals, blur that line and risk getting hurt or attached. Besides, they weren't good for each other anyway. All they did was fight, scream at one another whilst knowing almost nothing about each other beyond first names and blurry, dubious details.

She didn't need him, she didn't need anyone, especially not someone so keen on protecting her when she could-- always-- do it herself.

So, as the bruise on her brow faded, and the one he'd given her just above her clavicle stopped aching, she was reminded that time negates everything, turns it fuzzy and dim. Days, and months, and years pass, and people forget the name of the first restaurant they worked in, can no longer recall what their childhood best friend's face looked like when they laughed, can't summon what it sounded like when their father called their name.

Soon, she wouldn't remember what Javier's face looked like, wouldn't be haunted by the sound of his voice. Just like she could hardly remember anymore what her mother looked like when she was nose-deep in a book, or what her father smelled like. Forgetting was a blessing, forgetting was peace.

__________

Javier hated himself, always, but especially now, especially since that moment of weakness when he'd pinned her against the wall and finally taken what he wanted.

He did want her. He hadn't wanted anything, not really, besides that lackluster success that had eventually driven him mad. She'd made him realize that he'd never really wanted anything before, not like that, not like the painful, insatiable ache that clawed at his chest and gut in a chronic manner that made him feel like he was losing his goddamn mind. 

He thought he might die if he didn't have her.

So, he stayed away. He locked himself in his apartment and refused to leave.

It's a phase, she's just a girl, if I stay away long enough I'll forget all about this, and then I'll go find another bar with a different bartender that I can fuck without caring about what she thinks of me or my past.

He just needed something else to focus on, something that wasn't the light way his chest felt when she laughed, or the little worry lines that etched themselves between her eyebrows when she was stressed, or the fucking sound she made against his neck when he'd dragged her clothed cunt up and down his thigh.

Stop, stop, stop.

He pressed his fingers into his temples and urged his brain to stop, just stop. He didn't want to think about her, or Columbia, or anything. He wanted quiet, silence, a moment void of thought... for once.

But when he closed his eyes, it was just her, her or blood... thankfully never at the same time. He'd kept her separated from that part of him, the part of him he wished he could kill off just like all those narcos. That was the only thing he'd done right, he'd never tainted her, poisoned her with the stories of who he really was, what he really was.

She didn't want him to protect her, but he'd still managed to shield her from himself.

Oh, his sweet, sweet chiquita...

No. Not his. He had to stop using possessives when thinking about her, had to stop thinking about her entirely. She's infuriating, he reminded himself futilely, stubborn, and frustrating and so goddamn annoying. You're better off without her.

Even still, his eyes flickered to his watch. It was nearly 2:30am. Emma would be finishing up closing right now, wrestling with the kegs, and frantically scrubbing the countertops. Soon she would be locking up, walking those five blocks that separated her apartment from the bar by herself.

He hated that. He couldn't stand the thought of her out there by herself, even the mere possibility of something happening to her made him sick with worry, blind with murderous rage. His leg restlessly bounced up and down, his fists clenching and unclenching from where they rested on his knees. This was the first night during his week of isolation that she was closing. He'd had an easier time staying away when he knew that she was home before dark... but now... Well, fuck, he could feel himself making excuses, devising horrible scenarios in his head so he could allow himself to sprint over to the bar just to walk her home.

Just to walk her home, could he even do that anymore? After he knew what her mouth tasted like? After he'd drunk in the sounds she made right before she came?

The answer was a resounding no. If he allowed himself to see her again that would be the end. He wouldn't be able to stop himself and she would hate him... if she didn't already.

__________

Emma wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, huffing as she stood up from dragging the kegs into the back room. It had been a nightmare of a day, far too busy for a Tuesday with all the college kids out for spring break. They'd flooded the bar in droves, ordering beers by the pitcher, blasting horrific synthy pop songs from the jukebox all night.

On top of that, Nick wouldn't leave her alone. Kept asking her where her boyfriend was, why he hadn't been there the past several days.

He isn't my boyfriend. She'd spat out at him when he'd asked. I don't even know his last fucking name.

Sure seemed like your boyfriend, sweetheart. He'd chuckled, and she'd felt her cheeks pool with blood, both embarrassment and anger swirling around in her stomach.

As if she didn't hate Nick enough already...

She finished packing away the garnishes, giving the bar top one more cursory wipe before she deposited the rag in the dirty hamper. She was a minute away from grabbing her bag when a knock erupted at the door, the unexpected sound making her jump, her heart pounding away in her chest.

Probably just someone who forgot to close their tab, I'll tell them to fuck off and get their card tomorrow.

She stomped over to the door, refusing to open it as she yelled, loud enough for whoever it was to hear her through the thick wood.

"We're closed! If you forgot to close your tab, you'll have to come back and get your card tomorrow!"

It was silent for a moment, then, "It's me, chiquita."

His low baritone made her insides cramp up and ache after a week of not hearing it. But no, fuck, he was supposed to be gone. She had already convinced herself that she would forget all about him in a couple months' time. He wasn't supposed to come back.

"Go away, Javier." She spat out, even as her hand involuntarily reached for the lock, her body quivering with need now that it knew he was right there.

She heard him sigh on the other side of the door, "Just came here to walk you home, that's all."

The need in her gut was matched with an equally strong wave of annoyance that pushed her the extra metaphorical inch needed to click the lock and pull the door open. Even still, the image of him in front of her, all wide and pretty, his warm, brown eyes staring directly into hers, made her thighs quiver.

"I don't need your help." She said, her voice not nearly as loud or as stern as she'd wanted it to sound.

He was weak, but with her standing in front of him, dark blue eyes, and those pillowy, pink lips, he was fucking powerless.

He pushed his fingers through the front of his hair in a frustrated manner as he nodded, "Yeah, I know you don't, so goddamn stubborn." The last bit of his sentence came out as a mutter.

She felt the annoyance in her gut twist and amplify, "You know what, Javier," She started, hands on her slight hips as she glared up at him. "If I'm so goddamn stubborn, and such a pain in your ass, then why don't you just leave? Go back to Columbia or Texas and do whatever the fuck it was you were doing before you decided to make it your life's mission to irritate me, because I--"

Her words were cut off in a gasp as he stepped forward, latching his large hand to the back of her neck and roughly parting his lips over hers.

She felt everything below her belly button melt, turning white hot as she began stumbling backwards as he crowded her, his foot kicking the door closed behind them as one of his arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up before her legs could give out and send her onto the floor, a pathetic pile of need at his feet.

He walked them over to one of the tables, his mind clouded with the smell of her, a tight knot of desire heavy in his gut as he placed her down on top of the table, so they were essentially the same height.

He wanted this, oh he wanted this and who fucking cares, who cares about anything else when she's so fucking sweet.

His hands were tight on her waist as his kiss turned almost violent, his tongue pushing possessively into her mouth, summoning a moan from her chest that made his cock twitch as he licked a heavy, hot line over the roof of her mouth. He kissed her like he was starving, like he hadn't touched or been touched in decades, like her mouth held some divine cure to all his life's turmoil.

"Chiquita." He groaned as she dug her fingers into the taut cords of his biceps. "te necesito." He pushed himself between her parted thighs, tugging her closer to the edge of the table so he could-- once again-- press his clothed cock into the warmth that was quickly turning embarrassingly wet against the fabric of her panties.

Oh, she was done for. Truly. She couldn't remember a moment before, not a single instance in her twenty-five years on the planet when she was this needy, this fucking desperate.

"Javi." She spat out, pulling away only enough to look up at him, her pupils blown out, her lips all puffy, "It hurts, I need--"

"What hurts, bonita?" He interrupted her, his chest tightening with concern before his eyes flickered down as she pressed herself further against his cock, a moan tumbling from his throat before he could speak again. "Mmph- fuck- does that pretty, little pussy hurt, baby?"

She nodded, clawing at the wide expanse of his shoulders, a pathetic whine echoing through the bar as she tried to grind against the thick, devastatingly hard length of his confined cock.

His eyes rolled back in his head, his balls tightening and threatening to thoroughly embarrass him by prematurely coming all over the inside of his jeans. He used his grip on her waist to push her back a bit, give himself a bit of space to breathe, she was fucking intoxicating and if he didn't get some semblance of control back over himself, he was going to come before he even touched her.

"Easy." He warned, "Let me help you, my little ninfa." He hummed, making her belly pool with hot desire that shot down to the space between her legs, further flooding her panties. "Make that ache go away, baby." He whispered, then leaned down and nosed her chin up, licking a hot stripe across the side of her neck before he sucked the skin there between his teeth.

Let it leave a mark, he urged as he danced his tongue across that soft skin, biting down hard as she squeezed his arms, a sharp moan tumbling from her throat, Want everyone to see.

His hands caressed up her sides, lighting her on fire until he reached her chest, where his fingers curled around the neckline of her tank top and tugged it down, the stitching snapping under the strain as he tugged her breasts free, taking the weight of the right one in his large, warm hand.

"Umph--" She whined, feeling lightheaded and dizzy as his calloused thumb began rubbing tight circles over her puckered nipple. "Javi," she gasped, as the sensation sent shock waves down her torso. "Feels so good."

"Muy bonita." He hummed as he released her neck from his teeth, his eyes flickering to the milky skin of her tits, how perfectly they fit in his hands, how fucking soft her skin was. Christ, she was so soft.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you, chiquita, all fucking week couldn't stop." He confessed without much cognition as he began working at the button of her jeans, tugging it open and quickly pulling the zipper down as well.

"Me too." She gasped; her voice muffled by his lips as he caught hers in a hard embrace before he pulled back again. "Why'd you le-- why didn't you come back?"

"Because" He paused, his dark eyes locked on hers, "you drive me fucking insane."

She let out a sharp giggle and his chest fluttered at the sound.

"Doesn't matter anyway." He muttered, wrapping one arm around her and lifting her up just enough so that he could use his free hand to tug her jeans off. "Couldn't fucking stay away."

Her thighs quivered, trying to press together to conceal how wet her panties were before he pushed her back slightly, his large right hand pressing on her tummy and forcing her to lean back a bit. She was so entirely exposed for him like this, her legs spread to accommodate his hips as his eyes darted down and locked on the space between her thighs, his pink tongue darting out and wetting his plush bottom lip.

"Oh, chiquita..." He shook his head in nothing short of astonishment. "So wet, baby, is this all for me?"

She nodded adamantly, biting down hard on her bottom lip, her pussy aching, clenching around nothing as he just stared at her, his hands gripping the top of her thighs. "Javi please, please--"

"I know, I know." He hushed her, "Been thinking about this pussy all fucking week, can't wait to see."

She let out a warbled moan as he danced his fingers closer to her center, then carefully, so void of pressure, let his first finger brush over the drenched fabric. Her head tilted back, her hips jutting up and trying to increase the friction as he held her in place.

"Impatient little thing." He tutted, hooking his fingers into the top of the lace, and tugging it down as she scrambled to assist him by lifting her butt as he let them fall down her legs.

"Fuck." He muttered, his eyes locked on the glistening pink folds, swollen and needy and so, so pretty. "Perfect girl," he hummed in awe, "prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

And oh, he meant it. Need ripping him open as he caressed those slick lips, careful to avoid the aching little bundle of nerves at the top.

His touch lit a fire in her chest, everything going taut and scolding hot as her hands shot out and grabbed hold of his vast arms.

"Ja- Javi, please, please, please." She was a mess, desperate for the ache to be satiated, finally.

"I'm right here." He hummed, catching her lips in a soft kiss before his fingers slid back down her thigh, away from her pussy, her slick still on his fingers, leaving a glistening line on her the skin of her leg until he lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking the remaining bit of her arousal off with a deep hum, his cock twitching in his pants, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Taste so good, so fucking sweet." He crooned as his fingers exited his lips with a pop. "Here." He grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand down to her pussy. "I want you to feel how wet you are, then spread yourself open for me, okay chiquita? I want to see."

Oh, he's so filthy.

But he was right... fucking hell she'd never been that wet in her life, obscenely dripping onto the table, coating her inner thighs. She whined, desperate for the thick, rough feeling of his fingers to replace her own as she struggled to stretch herself open with how slick she was down there.

And goddamn, could he come from just vision alone? Her all spread wide for him, her breasts heaving and smushed together from the tight neckline of her shirt, her hand shaking as she held herself open so he could watch her leak for him. For him, all for him.

"Fuck me." He grunted, unable to practice any more restraint as he yanked her hand away and began circling her swollen little clit with his thumb, swallowing the moan from her throat as he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth.

So good, so good, fuck so good. That was the only thought going through her head as he worked his fingers like he was fucking made to drive her mad. She was reaching her height embarrassingly fast, the pressure in her lower belly turning wicked as it buzzed down and wrapped around her knees, shooting back up to her cunt and making her wail against his mouth.

"Come on chiquita," He encouraged her, his lips freeing hers so he could look down at her quivering thighs, her pretty cunt that was absolutely soaking his fingers and his palm. "You can come now, baby. It's okay."

She whimpered, her pussy beginning to clench, so close, so close. Then he adjusted his hand, so he had the leverage to continue circling her clit with his thumb while his thick first finger thrusted inside of her, curling up and doing something absolutely devastating to that soft giving spot that she could never quite reach with her own fingers.

"So tight." He spat out in shock as she screamed, his fingers rocketing her to the edge of her orgasm and then throwing her off the cliff.

"That's it." He murmured, feeling her beginning to pulse around him, the sound of her slick on his fingers, the wail that left her lips enough to almost make him come in his pants. "My good little girl." He didn't give her a second to recover when he thrust another finger inside, "Give me another one, bonita."

She was shaking violently underneath him, her fingers digging so hard into the taut cords of his arms that she was sure there would be little finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow. She'd just had the most intense orgasm of her life and he wanted another? But as his speed changed, growing just a little faster, she felt her pelvis shudder and tighten and then she was curling around him, her head falling onto his chest as he forced another, just as powerful, orgasm out of her.

"So fucking tight when you come, baby. Perfect, perfect girl. Made to drive me insane, I swear." He muttered, his teeth gritted as he tried to focus, focus on not coming like a fucking teenager in his pants. She hadn't even touched him, and he didn't think he could handle it if she did.

He let her come back to her senses, placing gentle kisses on her nose and cheeks, her forehead and the soft, giving skin of her temple. It was sweet, Javier was being sweet. Cooing praises at her, lightly caressing her waist as he littered her face with chaste kisses that made her core ache.

"Gotta come, baby." He spat out, his hands leaving her waist to unbutton his jeans and yank the zipper down. She forced her eyes open, her body still quivering as she came down from the wickedness he'd ripped out of her, but now burning with a new, heavy hunger as she watched him reach into his pants and pull out his cock-- golden and thick, and desperately hard, the red, hot tip of it leaking with beads of precum. She whined, her mouth watering as she imagined taking it into her mouth-- or as much of it as she could fit-- letting her tongue lick a stripe up that pulsing vein that etched itself along the length.

"Javi." She spat out, trying to reach for it before he shook his head and pushed her back.

"No chiquita... can't handle that." He muttered, his fist slowly working up and down his length, the largeness of his hand somehow didn't dwarf the devastating size of his cock and a whine bubbled out of her throat at the vision.

"Take off your shirt and lean back a bit." He ordered, his teeth gritting as she quickly obeyed.

So fucking obedient, he thought again, who would've guessed all I needed to do to get her to listen to me is make her come?

He moaned as he took in her newly exposed skin, silky smooth, almost translucently pale in the places that didn't regularly see the sun. Oh, he wanted to touch every inch, memorize each curve with his hands and his mouth.

"So pretty, s'pretty." He spat out, his balls tightening as she gazed up at him with those dark eyes, her swollen bottom lip jutted up between her teeth. He gripped her left thigh as he tightened his fist and increased his speed. "You want me to come all over that pretty, little tummy of yours?"

"Yes please, please Javi." She begged, and the sound was enough to pull him under, his body shuddering as thick ropes of cum coated her torso, pooling up in her belly button, warm and thick. And god his face was so pretty when he came, his mouth open in a moan, that little v etched between his eyebrows.

She reached down and gathered as much of his cum on her fingers as she could, lapping it up as she brought her hand to her mouth, letting out a little moan at the taste-- sweet and salty and so fucking masculine it made a tight knot form in her core.

He watched her in awe, his cock twitching in his hand like he could come again.

He stuffed himself back in his jeans, zipping up and then tugging her to his chest.

"I can't be your boyfriend, chiquita." He warned, his mouth arid as the words left his lips, her little form pressed against his chest.

"Who said I wanted a boyfriend?" She asked as she glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Fair point." He nodded, petting the back of her head, her hair so soft against his rough palm, his stomach twisting with nerves as he tried to formulate what it was exactly that he needed to say.

He exhaled, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in the thick column of his neck, "I just-- I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not-- I don't date."

"Neither do I." She said, her tone even more stern than his.

"So you-- you're okay with this? Just-- keeping it casual?" He asked cautiously, his eyes flickering over her face, searching for any bit of concern or resentment or deceit.

"By casual you mean us fucking without labels or feelings?" She asked, her tone so deadpan and professional, one would think she was talking about a business arrangement.

"Essentially." He nodded. He knew he couldn't stay away from her, couldn't fucking control himself, but if he was going to do this, give in rather than force himself away, then he needed to be sure she understood. He could not date her, could not give her anything that she deserved outside of sex.

And with her tits still out, and her legs still shaking, she stuck her hand out between them. "Sounds like a deal to me." She said as he enveloped his hand around hers.

And they shook on it.