Tapped Out

He comes in dirty. Leaves you dripping.
At Cleo's Tavern, the liquor's cheap, the air's thick, and the bartender's mean enough to keep the wrong kind of men in check. But Pedro? He's not the wrong kind. He's the dangerous kind. The kind that talks shit, smells like motor oil and cologne, and looks at you like he's already imagined how you taste.

Rina works the bar like she owns it, and she might as well-no one gets past her glare or her jugs of fireball without a sharp word and a sharper tongue. The regulars know better than to flirt.

Except Pedro.

With silver streaks in his hair and sin in his eyes, he doesn't flinch when she snaps. He leans in. Calls her "baby girl" like it's his God-given right. Says shit that makes her clench behind the bar then act like she didn't. And night after night, he keeps showing up-gritty boots, grease under his nails, and that filthy grin she pretends not to like.

But when the tension finally breaks,
it's not sweet. It's not soft. It's downright dangerous.

Think tongue, sweat, and submission in the backroom-
the kind of heat that leaves bruises on the soul and scratches down the spine.

At Cleo's, the bar might be rough... but the way Pedro handles her?
That shit's unforgettable.