Delicate

14

*Ana's POV*

I parked my car outside a bar in Santa Maria. Yes, I drove 127 miles northwest of Los Angeles to reach California. 

The drive at least soothed me after what just happened back in the office. I tried not to remember it as I want to move past that and him.

I went to the bar leaving my jacket back in the car. 

Being drunk is such a cop-out. By all means, enjoy a glass of something nice and laugh, but all this inebriation is cowardly. I enter the bar and the atmosphere was sweaty yet cool. I ordered a glass of champagne.

No one can see the dance floor, it's wall-to-wall people dancing to the club music. There's no room for any more but somehow I managed to pave my way to the other side of the bar table.

The bartender slides my drink forward to me and puts four cubes of ice in it.

The ice falls against the glass, my fingers sliding on the condensation before my fingers regain their grip. I feel the chill run down my esophagus and my head makes an involuntary shake. A numbness creeps into my brain.

My eyes shifted from the crowd to the adjacent bar counter. I gulped my drink down my throat as the burning sensation made me squeeze my eyes shut. 

I blinked trying to process my surrounding in my brain and I noticed a guy at the counter.
He was the kind who would have girls swooning over him. Why?

The lush, ebony black hair he groomed so carefully had a rippling quality, a sign of his rude health. His only blemish was that he was black-browed and they were knitted indicative of frustration. A hawkish nose, defined cheekbones, and a concrete jaw appeared chiseled into shape by a master craftsman. He had manly, light stubble. 

He was the kind of handsome that got into my bones, that spoke to me of olden times before he'd said a word. But...his appearance would catch anybody off-guard. The man was all in black. Black t-shirt, the half sleeves exposing his super veiny arms looking like capable of detaching a head from somebody, his black skinny jeans hugging to expose his legs which he worked in the gym, the black belt around his waist snatched at the back as he sat sipping on a glass of some drink. The drink went down his throat, and Adam's apple flexed unknowingly as I gulped a tinge of horniness. His hands slipped inside his jeans pocket and he brought his phone out. It seemed somebody texted him and after seeing his phone, he looked around the club maybe searching for someone. Does he have a girlfriend? Well, why am I concerned, hah!

He suddenly looked at me and caught me staring at him. I blinked away pretending to act cool and that I wasn't checking him out. I took a glance and he was still looking at me. So, I ordered another glass. Well, it's not my fault that I was checking him out. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way. I swear guys must be having gay panic sitting beside him. 

The bartender pushed the glass towards me but an unexpected manly arm stopped it mid-way. I followed the arm to the face and it is the man in black. I am flustered. Freaking much. 

I tried to keep my calm as much as possible and said, 
"What?", arching my brow, you know, like a mean girl 'cause I don't want to play the easy girl game ever from now onwards. He looked straight into my eyes. His eyes...oh such a sight to see!
They were almond-shaped. Those olive green eyes had the same startling clarity as a mountain stream and the lineaments of his face were in perfect proportion to each other. 
"I saw you were looking in my direction. May I pay for your drinks, beautiful?"
His last sentence startled me. Was this inviting or threatening or a trap or what the fuck? 
"And what do you want in return?"
"Consent, silence, and your hands.", he said that in a way that seemed like, he was used to fucking random girls at the bar. I took it positively because I needed a solution to my hangover at this moment. 
"Consent for?"
"I assume you're old enough to understand that when a guy at the bar says that word right?"
"Huh- well,...", I drank half of the liquid from the glass, "...Let's go?"
"Where?"
"Room, of course?"
"Hell, I don't have much time, just lend your hand to me.", by that, he took hold of my hands and placed them on his crotch area. I understood I was down for something crazy. I knew what to do and I was already doing it. His rude kind of expression lightened as he aroused under my touch. His hand slipped under my skirt in one motion crawling his fingers straight to where I was wet. I rubbed my palm all across from above the fabric of his jeans, feeling his boner brightly visible under my touch. He worked his fingers across my clitoris gently in three short motions. He pressed his thumb and I jerked up in my place with a gasp. 
"Silence. I don't want other people's attention here except yours."
I didn't reply but his words hit the right spots. He inserted two fingers inside my vagina which went in so swiftly because of my lubrication. I felt a little embarrassed at this. My hands were losing their sense to rub his hard member causing it to just be there on his pant. He was fingering me at the center of a club and this fact and his fingers were driving me insane. 

This was when the beep sound of the phone ringing made me aware of my thoughts. He picked up his phone from the table and answered the call. His husky deep voice made me more wet. 

"Uh, I need to leave right now.", he said as he withdrew his fingers and licked them clean.
"Mhm, so good sweet and salty." I frowned at him as I couldn't fucking orgasm and he was leaving me like that. I saw him disappear in the crowd of the bar and I just sat there dumb.

 UGHHH-