Hope you guys like it!! Please be gentle with any feedback, I bruise like a peach.
PART ONE
POV: Eva
Afternoon shifts in the bar are always slow, but somebody has to do them. I find it an easy way to get paid for pulling some pints and reading a few chapters of a good book. My grandparents have owned the little pub for years, and I have spent countless afternoons and nights of my early childhood sitting with them at the bar, or helping in the cellar. I thought bar work would be the easiest job over the summer; my first year at university had wreaked havoc on my bank balance, and this seemed like the perfect chance to top it up and gain some experience. After the first shift, I started feeling like a natural. I enjoyed the people and their conversations. I was young to be working in a pub that was so set in its ways; most of the people that came in were one, if not two, generations above me, and they offered interesting glimpses into the world they had grown up in with their stories and complaints.
The usual customers all sit in their usual places. My eyes glance over the bar before they connect with his, but we both look away quickly. Nikolai. He sits at the back, furthest away and always on his own at first, before a few of the guys come in to play pool. He is always the last to leave. Tall and broad, he towers above me whenever I serve him his drink. I have always recognised him, even as a child I would walk through and recognise the faces of the people who have been drinking here for years. But I had never noticed him until I began working here. Never noticed his height until he was stood right in front of me. Never noticed his hands, big and safe, until they made contact with mine when he handed the money over. Never noticed the quiet purr of his voice until he asked me what book I was reading. He is an older man, with fine lines of grey speckled in his black hair, faint creases of wrinkles in his skin when he laughs, though he looks quick and agile for his age, which I guess to be at about fifty-five. Overall he isn't a man of astonishing beauty, and yet I have started to view every day at work as an opportunity to see him, share eye contact, make small talk.
He stands up from the chair he has been sat in, the one his long legs and body make look so small, and begins to stride towards the bar.
“No book today?” he asks, his eyes glancing towards me from under his eye lashes as he counts out the change in his hand.
I smile and lift up the book I hide beneath the bar, and he winks at me. Our secret.
I get his drink without needing to be reminded of it.
POV: Nikolai
She glances up at me every so often while she serves me my drink, huge round blue eyes peeking for a second and then darting back down to the half-filled pint glass in her hand. I take the book she's been reading and turn it over to read the summary. A supernatural thriller. I almost roll my eyes. I thumb to the page she has bookmarked and start reading halfway through a sex scene. I don't even have to look at her to know that she's blushing.
I raise my eyebrows and shake the book at her. “Are you old enough for this?” I joke.
She snatches it from my hands, greedy little fingers clutching it tightly. “Of course I am!” She snaps in a way that conjures up an image of an angry child stomping her foot on the ground and pouting. A kitten pretending it's a tiger.
She stands there in her little outfit: a floral pastel-coloured pencil skirt that wraps so tightly around her figure it makes me feel jealous, a white lace top with sleeves, and underneath I can see her white bra. Her hair falls down her back in a tangled, copper mess, and her fringe makes her look even younger.
“If you say so,” I say, still teasing, and hand her my money. Her hands are too small for all the coins and they spill over onto the bar. We move to pick them up at the same time, and when her fingers touch mine she jumps back like she has been electrocuted.
When I return back to my seat, I watch her out of the corner of my eye. I have known her grandparents since before she was born, I remember them proudly brandishing photos of her and showing anyone that would look. I have seen her grow from a baby into a child, and then into a sulky teenager before leaving for university and returning as a woman. She is short, even for a woman, and her body looks soft. I can see a toned waist underneath her clothes, with enough on her to give her some shape to her hips and thighs, and a nice squish to her little belly.
I take a drink and allow myself to indulge for a moment. I think about the soft, porcelain skin on her thighs and how satisfying it would feel to grab onto them, give them a little bite and hear her squeal. Turning her over so she can lie on her stomach, while cupping the back of her thighs with each hand, just below her buttocks, so I could give her a little shake and watch her ass bounce. Spreading her cheeks and letting my spit drip down onto her, so I could fit a finger inside while I pressed the tip of my cock into her pussy from behind.
I look over at her. She looks like she's looking down at her shoes, but I know she's reading her book. I don't notice how hard I am until I think about bending her over the bar. My hand over her stomach would take up most of her torso, and when I think about how petite she is it's not difficult to imagine how tight she would feel around me.
Checking the clock, I realise I'm expected to stand up and play pool in the next ten minutes, when the usual guys in the team arrive, and I try to think of something other than the delightful noises I could elicit from her. I look back at her and her eyes meet mine for a second. She looks flushed, and she quickly looks away as though I've caught her doing something she shouldn't be doing. And then I remember the sex scene she's reading about.
POV: Eva
The group of men walk through the door with their cues, all joking about something. They order their drinks and walk to the back, towards my favourite customer to play a few games. Today though, I hear him tell them he can't be bothered to join in, and sits out of the first one.
Their arrival is always a godsend, because it means I only have one more hour before my shift finishes. I read another chapter of my book before I start the usual routine. I empty the drip trays and wipe them down. I lift the trays of glasses in and out of the glass washing machine, and the heat from the water burns my hands. I wipe down the bar, the entire time feeling a pair of eyes on me, though I don't need to look over my shoulder to see who it is.
Eventually, all the customers leave but one, as is the apparent ritual. I'm stood in front of the bar, reaching up to try and get a hold of the shutters to pull them down so I can finish locking up, when I sense him behind me. Nikolai's hands appear in front of me and they pull the shutter down with ease. He rests his hands on the bar, either side of me, so that when I turn around I have nowhere to move to.
“Thank you.” I tell him, laughing a little out of nervousness. He's so close, I can smell the alcohol on him, the fabric conditioner of his clothes and the sweetness of his aftershave, but I don't feel intimidated or uncomfortable. He doesn't press himself against me, or grab me and force me into submission. Instead he stands there waiting, as though he just knows smugly that I want to kiss him.
It happens slowly and silently, like this is the calm before the storm. I look him in the eye, and then down at his lips as I stand up on my tiptoes. He has to lean down so that our foreheads touch, and when I breathe a fluttered, aroused breath I see the corner of his mouth curl into a crooked smile before we finally kiss.
Our lips touch lightly, as though he's testing the waters. His hands stay resting on the bar and there is a small space between our bodies. The excitement of kissing a much older man, the suddenness of it all, and the teasing way he looks at me makes it impossible not to moan when he grabs a fistful of my hair and holds my head back to get a good look at my face. He has the expression of someone who looks like they're trying to make a difficult decision.
He makes up his mind when he leans down and kisses me again, more frenzied and passionate than the first time. His tongue snakes into my mouth, warm and wet, and I can taste the beer he's been drinking. His arms wrap around me and hold me against him, and I wonder if I'll suffocate.
Without warning he turns me around, lifts me up with surprising ease and bends me over the bar. I cling onto the closed shutters, my feet dangling off the floor, and I know what's about to happen but it still surprises me when he pushes my skirt up over my legs and ass.
I feel both of his hands caressing my cheeks, gently at first, and then pinching and grabbing. I hear him exhale, almost a half moan, as I feel him hook one of his fingers around the string of my thong. He keeps his hand there, teasingly, just barely resting against my hole before he presses a knuckle against it, almost pushing it inside me.
I make a noise halfway through a protesting “No!” and a moan of excitement. I hear the sound of his zip being pulled down. He slides the rest of my underwear to one side with his free hand and positions himself just in front of my entrance. It isn't until I feel him against me that I realise my pussy must be almost glistening in its wetness.
“Wait!” I manage to pant. “My grandparents.” I knew they had CCTV cameras in the pub, which mostly went unchecked, but the thought of them watching it one day and seeing their only granddaughter being taken from behind in the business they worked so hard to set up, by someone not much younger than themselves was bringing tears of embarrassment to my eyes. I wriggle against him, trying to stand up but it excites him more and he slaps my backside hard. His hands are big and heavy, and the sting of it makes me cry out.
“Shush!” He warns and gives my hair a tug.
He shoves his cock inside me suddenly, and I feel too overwhelmed to do anything. I'm wet enough for him to slide inside, but his size and his force stretch me out too quickly and I feel a stab of pain.
He presses his knuckle harder against my ass, opening a different part of me up.
“No,” I protest though I'm not entirely sure what at, quieter this time, barely able to get enough breath in between my excited gasps for me to speak.
He shushes me like I'm a baby he's rocking to sleep, and his thrusts become gentler.
I try to look over my shoulder at the door, which I hadn't had a chance to lock. My heart begins to hammer and a sick feeling in my stomach begins to rise up at the thought of anyone walking in, but the possibility of it excites me.
I cling on harder to the shutters, the only thing keeping my balance when he pulls out of me before he pushes back in, over and over. I try to arch my back and grind my clit against the bar, and it gets a response from him.
“Good girl,” he tells me, and his thrust increase to a quicker pace.
I had slept with boys before, had a boyfriend through high school and a string of one night stands with people I met at university, but it had been frustrating to find that they just didn't have the knowledge or patience to touch the places I needed them to touch, in the way I needed them to, or say the things I wanted to hear. I've had orgasms before, but never during intercourse and as soon as the warm feeling spreads down my belly and up my thighs I shake and writhe against him, tighten myself around his shaft and moan for all I'm worth. I forget about my fear of my grandparents seeing, or someone walking in on us, the thought of it now makes me feel deliciously filthy, and I moan louder as if I'm daring it to happen.
I feel a sharp nip in the crook of my neck just as I'm tipped over the edge. I forget about it and feel nothing but waves of pure bliss and delight rocking my body, my clit right at the epicentre, while he thrusts in and out of me so hard and fast I can't do anything but moan. I'm only barely aware of him pushing the finger into my ass, as deep as it will go. I feel so full and stretched out by him, I wonder how I will ever go back to normal again. The waves finally subside as my orgasm finishes, and I come to my senses when I feel him abruptly pull out and blow his load on my ass. He exhales what sounds like a breath he has been holding in as I feel his cum drip down my legs and mix with my own juices. He rubs it all into my skin like it's lotion.
I stay clinging to the shutters, wondering if I can ever move again, until he lifts me down, sets me on my feet and fixes my skirt. We look at each other for a second, wondering what to say. I can't decide whether to burst into fits of laughter or tears, whether to run screaming or ask him to come home with me.
He looks at me sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He points to me, at a spot on the side of my neck and when he touches it it feels sore.
“I'm...” he looks at me and shrugs, “I guess I'm sorry about that. I got... carried away.”
I look down at my shoulder and the movement causes the same pain in my neck again. I see smeared blood on my shoulder and down my arm, and I frown in surprise and concern. The upper half of the wall behind the bar is mirrored, and when I turn to look at myself I see two tiny puncture marks in my neck, as though I've been bitten.
“I'll see you tomorrow.” He murmurs it like a seductive promise in my ear and gives my backside a squeeze. I can feel his breath on my face and feel him next to me. I wheel around on my heels to look at him, but by the time I have spun around I'm alone in the pub.