by Monika Summerville
Ian Deatherage’s past is a shadow. He’s doesn’t make friends traveling from place to place on his motorcycle. When it breaks down he has twenty dollars in his pocket, he’ll have to find a job to pay for the repairs. Kris Marcus is the owner of The Scamp. She offers Ian a bouncer job. Ian works for a week and the relationship between he and Kris builds and boils over into a night of hot passion. His words to her - I don’t do gentle - turns out fine. She isn’t used to soft touches. Ian and Kris dance around each other and find a hot attraction. She figures once his motorcycle is fixed he’ll leave area and wants to protect herself. He doesn’t know committed relationships and isn’t sure what to do. After several weeks of burning sex, Ian convinces Kris that he doesn’t want to leave. Will she let him stay or watch him go?
The bartender continued to check back with him every half hour or so. She seemed nice enough, but he knew she only did her job. Her brown hair shimmered in the dim light in the room and her ass looked great in her tight jeans.
A half hour on the dot since her last visit, she came up to his table.
“How are you doing?” she asked for the hundredth time.
“I’m okay. Can I ask you a question?”
She’d started to turn, but stopped and waited. “Sure.”
“Does anyone around here need a day worker for a week or two? You know heavy lifting and that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know. You might find a stocking job at one of the grocery stores. It will be a month or so before the farms start getting their fields ready for planting. Why?”
“My motorcycle is being repaired and I need to come up with the bucks to pay it off.” He saw her brows crease and knew what she would say. “Don’t worry. I have some money to pay for my meal, just not enough for repair bills.”
“No. I wasn’t thinking that,” she said. “We could use a bouncer. Do you have any experience with that type of stuff?”
No, he thought. “Yeah, I can do it.” How hard could it be?
“How’s fifteen dollars an hour to start? If you work out, it could go up to twenty.”
“I doubt I’ll be here that long, but fifteen would work. Who do I talk to?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s the owner? Don’t I have to talk to him?”
She laughed. “I’m the owner. This was the easiest interview ever. Can you start tomorrow?” She leaned her hip against the table and her eyebrows rose.
He looked up at her and tried to smile back. “You own this place?”
“Yeah. Don’t piss me off and we’ll do just fine. Start tomorrow at five.”
“I’ll be here. Thanks.” Ian watched her walk away. “Hey. What’s your name?”
She turned back and laughed again. “Sorry, I’m Kris Marcus.”
“I’m Ian Deatherage.”
“Guess I shouldn’t call you death or rage, huh? It would be bad for business.”
“Would it be okay for me to crash here tonight? I can sleep on the floor.”
Ian liked to watch her move, though. Her curves were nice and soft, and her ass would fit his big old hands just right. Sitting up straight on the stool, he looked away from her and around the room.
Do your job, asshole. You can’t fuck the boss, he thought.
Around one-thirty Kris brought him a cup of coffee and during the transfer ran her finger over the back of his hand and looked at him.
“I know you’re watching me.” She smiled.
“So, nothing. Do you like what you see?” She turned and walked back to the middle of the counter swishing her hips. When she turned back, she winked at him and then took an order from a waitress.
When the bar closed, the crew cleaned up, collected the garbage, and put the chairs up on the tables.
As the other employee’s left, he watched Kris turn off the lights behind the bar and move to the stairs. Before she started up, she turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. Ian locked the front door and turned off the Open sign. He stood by the door, looked at the stairs and wondered if he could put this in the good idea column. Should he screw her? His cock said yes, but his head went into a fog.
He went up the steps, turned into the office and saw her perched on top of her desk. She watched him move into the room and he could feel her look burn into his soul. Stopping in front of her with his thighs against her knees, he could feel heat come off her. One of his hands developed a mind of its own and reached up to her cheek. He ran his thumb over her lips.
“I don’t do gentle,” he said.
She bit his thumb and looked up at him. “I don’t like gentle.”
Monika Summerville is an avid reader, loves good tense movies, and works hard on her writing. She lives in Western Washington State with her four cats, Agamemnon, Tazmania, Jasper and Jericho.
She has written A Risky Dance and A Lost Dance for Siren BookStrand. The third book - A Flame Dance - is available now.