Snow

5 | you got another man on tap tonight, neva?

❝i went down to a place in bed-stuy,
a little liquor on my lips.
i let him climb inside my body
and held him captive in my kiss.❞

❘❘

TIPSY AND TURNED ON, pressed against the bar as he pounds into me, I can't string together a real thought.

This time I know his name—because Julian Rivera thought it was fitting to give me his full name before he railed me into the bar.

What else do I really know about him?

Julian Rivera is an amazing kisser and an even better fuck. That's almost all I know about him, and honestly, it's all I need to.

He's the right amount of force, a push and pull, and the best parts of good and bad; fast and dirty. Something about his bare skin against mine completely drives out anything but the delirious sensations of pain and pleasure and reckless abandon.

The lights are low and our clothes are on the bar floor; there isn't a fucking care in the world.

"Oh, oh..." I gasp, my head falling back, my lips breaking free.

He's quick to find my jaw, my throat, my collarbone—every motion bleeding into the next until I'm trembling under a single touch. I wrap my legs around his waist, his fingers carve into my hips. I rake my nails down his back, his groans spill out along my chest.

One hand cups my neck to keep me tuned to the right angle as I writhe, taking each brutal stroke. I dig my nails into his arms to keep him with me; trace the swirling ink all the way to his wrists.

We work to the same erratic rhythm. With broken pants and breathless moans, a nibble here and a pinch there, Julian seems to match whatever I give him with más.

I pry his hand from my neck and slip his thumb into my mouth. Julian doesn't stop fucking me, but the hot kisses along my throat come to a halt. A husky groan falls from his lips, and as he pulls away, our eyes clash with something fierce.

Part of me thinks he's about to stop, yank me to my knees and shove his cock down my throat. The other part of me wants him to. Bad.

My cheeks hollow as I suck, holding eye contact. A tendril of lust uncoils in my stomach, a wave of power overcomes me. There's a raw look in his eyes—an untamed, unhinged haze that makes me feel like I could destroy anything. I fucking love it.

"Hmmm," Julian hums, tugging his thumb from my mouth and swiping it along my cheek. A soft, wet track remains, burning in the exposed heat of the bar.

I lick my lips and give him a sated smile. "Mhmm."

"Neva Álvarez..."

Fuck, I regret telling him my full name. Even if it sounds so fucking good in that mix of strained arousal. Because as he drawls it softly, he slows.

My nails claw up his back as I moan and try to grind onto him. Desperate for him to continue, I whine, "Julian..."

His cock throbs inside of me, but he doesn't move. Julian stands perfectly still, arms around my waist to keep me flush against him and dark eyes boring into me with that challenge that I knew would kill me.

"What?" I breathe in frustration.

"You're beautiful."

Oh, okay. My cheeks warm, but I roll my eyes. "I'd be even more beautiful if you fucked me right, yeah?"

Weakly, I grasp his neck and run my hands into his hair, trying to reel him in. He obliges with a chaste kiss, and my teeth ground together at the sudden restraint he's exercising.