Scars

Eighteen

Slight-smut warning. I'm uncomfortable. I'm so sorry.

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The party died down, and almost everyone had left. It was an amazing time, and that's coming from someone who was working the party more than attending it.

"See you later man," Jimmy and Chandler both said their goodbyes to Chris.

"Thanks for tonight guys,' Chris smiled.

"Of course, happy birthday," Jimmy smiled.

The guys left and Chris turned his attention back to me. I was counting down our registers for the third time, not getting them to clear.

"This can't be right," I shook my head.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked.

"My register is almost $2,000 over where it should be. We didn't take any cash tonight, the registers were only set up in case Jimmy wanted to switch to cash bar instead of putting it on a tab. Why is there so much extra cash in here?" I asked.

"You probably just did such a great job that someone left you a tip," Chris shrugged.

"Christopher," I warned, "would you have something to do with this?"

"Maybe," Chris shrugged again.

"No, you are not going to tip me at all, but especially not this much," I insisted as I counted out dollar bills to give them back to Chris.

"It's my birthday and I can do what I want to," Chris laughed, "now come sit with me help me celebrate."

I rolled my eyes before I climbed over the bar and sat in the stool next to Chris. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me close.

"Nat," Brian cleared his throat, "sorry to interrupt. But you can go ahead and head out, we'll take care of clean up tonight."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Go celebrate his birthday," Brian smiled.

I smiled before I grabbed my phone and Chris' hand, leading us out of the employee entrance.

"It was pretty fun to see you bartend, like up close," Chris smiled.

"You've seen me bartend before," I reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. But tonight was different, it was pretty hot," Chris laughed, "I could get used to watching you like that."

"Okay stalker," I giggled as I leaned against my car, "happy birthday Christopher."

Chris took a step forward, trapping me against my car. Chris' hands were like hot coals against my waist. The dress I was wearing was made of a thick cotton material, but it may have well been the thinnest of silks from the way I felt every single tap. Chris parted my legs with his knee, resting his leg between them. He traced his finger over my jaw before turning up my chin, his fingers running down my neck. When his lips brushed against mine, I knew I was in for it. His hands moved down my lower back as our kiss deepened even further, my mouth opening, and I inhaled sharply, looping my arms around his neck. He pressed himself more firmly against me, his groin against my stomach. I ran my hands up his shirt over his taut back, purring as his hands glided up my dress, gently stroking the skin of my hips. Chris' hand skipped over the skin below my navel, leaving me feel like I had been torched.

This doesn't happen to me, I had never met someone who could set my nerves on fire or turn me to jello. But here I am, complete putty in his hands.

"Chris," I exhaled completely out of breath, with a slight giggle.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, "you don't call me Chris."