Page 39 of Golden

I glance up to find the barman standing in front of me, gesturing to my empty glass. When did I finish it?

“Sure,” I say, peering at the glass in confusion. “Thanks.”

“Want me to make it a double? On me?”

His tone has me looking at him properly for the first time. Tall and lean, with dark hair that falls over one eye, he’s cute in a grungy kind of way. He smiles, his eyes drifting over my shoulders and chest before moving to my mouth. He licks his lips and my pulse speeds.

“That’s very kind of you,” I say.

His smile widens. “You look like you need cheering up.”

“Do I?” He has a pretty mouth. His pointed chin nothing like Sol’s strong jaw. “And a double is going to do the job, huh?”

His eyes flash, and he leans forward on the bar, dropping his voice. “I can think of another way to cheer you up if you’d like?”

My already half-hard dick seems to be up for whatever he’s suggesting. “Oh?”

He picks up my glass and glances at the other bartenders further along. “There’s an unalarmed fire escape past the bathrooms. Meet you out there in five.”

I swallow, nerves and excitement coursing through my veins, as he turns and fetches my drink. Then he gestures to one of the other bartenders and turns to leave with a wink.

It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this, but it feels different this time. Maybe I’m not drunk enough. I turn around to find Shawna and Toby staring at me.

“What?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink and almost wincing at how strong it is.

Shawna glances in the direction the bartender has gone. “Going with over, then?”

“You told me to make a choice,” I say, pushing my drink into her hand. “Either have this yourself or keep it for me. I’ll be back in a few.”

I don’t give her time to respond as I make my way through the crowd toward the neon bathroom sign. It’s busy, but as I continue down the darkened corridor to the dimly lit fire exit, no one seems to notice.

I tense as I push the metal bar to open the door, even though he said it wasn’t alarmed, but it doesn’t make a sound. It’s cold outside, the air damp from a day of standard Seattle rain and fog, and the continual thud of the music from inside the club echoes through the alley.

“Hey.”

The bartender pushes off the wall beside the door and steps over to me. He’s average height when he’s not behind the bar, which means he has to rise onto his toes as he pushes me against the wall and kisses me. I never know what to expect with hookups like this, but the kiss isn’t unpleasant. He knows what he’s doing, and as his hands move swiftly to the button on my jeans, I slide my own hands to his ass, squeezing. He’s slimmer than I thought, more like the guys I usually go for. I haven’t actually felt Sol’s ass, but I know from looking at it that it would feel full and round in my hands. A longing fills me, and I try to push it away, focusing on the tongue that’s currently in my mouth and the hands pushing down my briefs to free my cock.

Bartender breaks the kiss, dropping to his knees and taking me into his mouth with a fluidity and speed that has me inhaling sharply, my head falling back painfully against the rough cinderblock wall. My fingers thread in his hair, a deep groan rumbling in my chest as he strokes and sucks with his hand and mouth. He’s good, managing to take more of me into him than I expect. But when I look down, I’m hit with a swell of disappointment.

As good as it feels, it’s someone else’s mouth I want there. Would Sol be eager like this guy? Or would he be slow and careful? He’s one of those guys who’s naturally good at everything, I just know it. And if his kissing is anything to go by . . . I wish I’d kissed him in the locker room. The memory of our kiss at the Den has faded and I often wonder whether the memory has built itself up into something more in my head. I wasn’t drunk, but it was three months ago. It can’t have been that good, right?

Bartender moans around my dick and I watch as he shoves his hand into his own pants, jerking in time to the bobbing of his head. Relief hits me and my cheeks heat. I shouldn’t be glad I won’t have to return the favor. Exhaling, I try to force myself into the moment, enjoying the wet heat of Bartender’s mouth, but I can’t stop thinking about Sol, and my release seems to move further away.

Damnit.

I’m a horrible fucking person, but I grip Bartender’s head firmly, gaining a pleased moan in response, then I tip my head back and close my eyes. It’s easy then to pretend that they’re Sol’s lips wrapped around my cock, and I imagine his pale blue eyes staring up at me, watering with the force of me nudging the back of his throat. My breathing quickens as I recall how quickly Sol followed my instructions—the shudder of pleasure as I praised him. Fuck. I want to explore that more.

My balls tighten and I grip Bartender’s hair tighter as I empty down his throat, just managing to swallow Sol’s name before it leaves my lips. I’m officially the worst. Cold shame coats my skin as I tuck myself away and fasten my jeans.

Bartender stands, tucking himself back in and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Did it work?”

I blink, still breathing heavily, my mind spinning a little from both the alcohol and the orgasm. “Huh?”

He grins. “Did I cheer you up?”

“Yeah,” I force a smile. “You did. Thank you.”

Bartender lingers for a second and the guilt worsens. He seems like a nice guy. I shouldn’t have taken him up on his offer. I should have pushed him toward Toby instead. He’s completely his type.Ugh. What the fuck was I thinking? Ah. That’s right. I wasn’t.

---