Page 33 of Omega Artist
“What’s going on? Your text got me a little worried…” I shove my gloved hand in my coat pocket to try and readjust my suddenly tighter black jeans. Now, I’m pacing like a nervous wreck, heading back towards the bar. So much for being more relaxed, Chloe! I raise my voice to be heard. “It sounded… I don’t know… urgent?” I watch the people around me—wrapped up in their winter clothes, wrapped up in their own conversations, wrapped up in their own worlds—as I wait for her response. They look as cold as I feel. With their hats, hoods, and scarves, it’s hard to see their faces, but the hunter that I am still notices a couple of pretty faces with ruddy cheeks. All of them are oblivious to my excitement.
“I’m here is what’s going on.”
“What do you mean you’rehere? You can’t be anywhere near my bar. I would have noticed you.”
“Yourbar? You own a bar, now?” Her snarky comment gets me even harder than I already am. What has this woman done to me? It’s been fun using my hand to the sound of her filthy commands, but I’m ready for more. She’s unlike any of the women I’ve hooked up with, but I’d definitely bang her senseless if I had the chance.
“Come on, I mean my favorite place to hang out.” The feedback noise hasn’t stopped, and I’m about to ask her what she’s doing, only she beats me to it.
“Right. But even if I were in your bar, you wouldn’t recognize me. I hate to break it to you, Tig, but you’ve never seen my face.”
“But I know your voice and the way you move.”
“Do you now?”
“Yup. Trust me, I’ve watched enough videos on your YouTube channel to be able to recognize you. But anyway, you’ve got me sidetracked. What did you mean when you said that you werehere?”
She lets out a throaty noise. “Mmm… Let’s see, where should I begin? I’m no longer in Paris, Tig.” At the implication of her words, my face heats up along with my body. “I crossed the ocean because I’m sick of not seeing you… in person.”
“You’re in the U.S.? For real?” My questions come out in a shaky voice, and my heart accelerates. My hand is buried inside my coat pocket and makes quick work at stroking my painfully hard dick as discreetly as possible. I need to stop, otherwise I’ll cream my pants like a teenager.
Damn, woman! See what you’re doing to me? Now, I need to go back inside and finish the job in the bathroom.
Approaching the bar, I fight against the harsh wind, and my teeth chatter.
Meanwhile, my French obsession continues her teasing. “Here’s a test for you: come and find me, Tig de Luca.” The irritating sound from a minute ago has been replaced by background voices and music; she must be at a party.
“Hey, I’d love to, but that might be difficult considering that the Big Apple is… well, big.”
“Please… you bragged that you’d recognize me anywhere. Come and find mehere… inyourbar, big boy.”
I’m about to ask what she means as I pause in front of the establishment. My left hand mindlessly goes to my head and my beanie slides downward.
Stupid fuck!
Cursing at myself, I stoop to pluck my hat from the sidewalk, shove it in my coat pocket, and push the front door open, letting it slide shut as I step inside.
Thank fuck! Early February in New York can be brutal!
Awkwardly, I unzip my coat and run my fingers through my growing hair; my brown curls are making a comeback with a vengeance. Shaking my coat-free shoulders, I welcome the comforting warmth and the friendly atmosphere; going outside to call Alie was a bad idea.
Fuck, Alie!
I growl at the short but perfectly dirty clip that abruptly pops up in my mind, blurring out the busy bar for a split second. I want nothing more than to fuck her, but that’ll have to wait awhile. First, I slide my hand in my pocket and readjust myself for the millionth time. Then, “Alie, you still there? You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”
I stay put like the moron that I am, incapable of movement. There’s no more whistling sound in my ear. There’s no more wind blowing in my face. There’s no more cold weather to endure.
“Sorry, Tig. I got distracted by a shiny new toy that just captured my attention.” Her girly giggle is tinged with an edge today. “It’s playing with its magic wand.”
“What?” I shift my balance from one foot to the other, trying to dispel the nasty sensations from my frozen body and get my blood pumping.
“Never mind.” Understanding that I’m at a loss, she explains, “What I meant to say is that you’re it, Tig. My shiny new toy, silly!” If I were facing her, I bet I’d see a smirk.
At last, it all registers. The wind. The people. The music… It resonated in my ears. They resonate in her phone. It resonates around us. We’re in the same bar. It’s been a while since a woman has rendered me speechless.
Mike notices me from behind the bar and acknowledges my presence by offering his signature smile. I chuckle at that. Lucas’s right; the bastard does look a lot like Channing Tatum.
“Now there’s one thing left for you to do.” She pauses. Her breathing comes out ragged. Then she dares me in a commanding yet pleading voice.
