"A beer?" I hail the bartender. He curtly nods and reaches under the counter to pull out a bottle of beer, which he hands to me. I salute him with the bottle as thanks. He grins in return and then goes back to servicing the other customers at the bar.
I sigh as I slowly drink my beer and try not to think about how disgusting I feel. How much of a fucking whore I am. A whore with no life, no family and no job, no peace of mind. A whore who lost her job because of "inappropriate sexual interactions with co-workers", which leaned towards the interesting side because one of those co-workers was her boss. But a whore is a whore is a whore. A whore who can't hold down a relationship no matter how hard she tries because she pathetically just cannot find a man who does not cease to be entertaining to her after one or two nights. "Well fuck me up the ass," I mutter, finishing my beer.
"Gladly," a deep, thick voice sounds from behind me. I whip around so fast that I lose my bearings and take a nose dive out of my bar stool. Only a moment before my face hits the ground, a strong arm wraps around my midsection and pulls me up to my feet, pressing me against his chest and keeping me there. I look up at my saviour, a pathetic sort of whimper escaping my lips. He was gorgeous, by God he was gorgeous. He had a mess of thin, dark hair that met a perfectly tended scruff of a beard. His eyes were dark and beautiful, though at the same time terrifying, feeling as though they were searching through the recesses of my soul. "You alright, love?" he asks in a sickeningly sweet British accent.
I melt. My legs are refusing to work. Good God I am mortified; I can't even stand up straight. I try to respond to his question but all that comes out is another pathetic, unintelligible mumble. The man cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. Only now do I realise how fucking ridiculous I might seem: my legs buckled, hands desperately hanging onto the fabric of his suit, my eyes incredulous as I drink in his beauty. Fuck, Ruby, get yourself together. I clear my throat and take in a calming gulp of fresh air. "Uh, yeah. Yes, sir. Thank you, that would have been...unpleasant," I finally choke out, trying to keep my voice as even and mature as possible. Gently I push myself away from God's handiwork, brushing my hands off down my jeans.
The man keeps one firm hand on my shoulder, probably making sure I won't fall back on my ass again. Brilliant. When I glance at it, he grins at me and purrs, "Woa, there cowboy. You sure you're alright?"
What is air.
What is life.
I let out a laugh, meeting his dark eyes again. "Yes, thanks." I swallow, gesturing at the bar, then say, "Um, do you mind if we start over? I would rather not start off the night with me making a fool of myself falling on my ass just because of a fucking swivel." I can't quite decipher the expression that crosses over his face. Playful? Annoyed? How-pathetic-is-she?
The man does not say anything, but turns me around, walks me forward and plops my confused ass back in the bar stool I just fell out of before pivoting on his black dress shoes and walking back out of the bar. What the fuck? "Wow, I really must be a pathetic good-for-nothing whore..." I mutter to myself as I pull out my wallet and put some cash next to my bottle on the counter.
I angrily stuff my wallet back into my ass-pocket and am about to stand up when the man casually strolls up to me and whispers, "Hello, darling. Fancy a drink?"
My eyes widen and my breath hitches in my throat. "Gladly," I respond, 100% normally, surprising myself with how fast I recover from his honey-dipped voice and circumstance.
He cranes his neck to check out the bar, then turns back to me and says, "Though I hear the alcohol here is total rubbish. Why not, let's say, go grab a good one back at my place?" When I do not respond right away he adds, "The name's Crowley, by the way."
I stand up so we are face-to-face. "You know what, Crowley? You're right. The alcohol here is rubbish. Care to educate me on the good stuff?"
Crowley shoots me probably the sexiest smile I have ever seen. "That-a girl. Shall we get going?" He holds out his hand to me and I take it without hesitation, making myself forget all about the self-loathing I was diving into only moments earlier. If I wanted this Crowley, then damn it all I will have him. I let him lead me out of the bar, down the sidewalk and into a black sedan parked on the curbside. "Oh, by the way-I didn't catch your name, love."
I thought for a moment, now having to choose my words carefully. I have made a fool of myself enough already and refuse to have his impression of me degrade any further. Looking over at him I say, "I'm the girl who just saved your ass."
Crowley looks confused, but entertained. "And what did you save my amazing ass from?"
I hold back a giggle. "From the rubbish alcohol, sir. If I had not been there you might have suffered from such unfortunate alcohol."
Crowley reaches out and places his strong hand on my thigh, gently stroking it with his thumb. The coarse material of my jeans underneath his palm is almost painful to wear, the urge to have him touch me without them nearly over-riding all of my other senses and making me shudder in hopeless anticipation. "Keep calling me 'sir', darling, and you might be having a problem with your vocal cords very soon."
"Would you rather I call you something different, then, Mr. Crowley?" I ask as he finally pulls up to his house and parks underneath the overhang next to his front door.
He puts the car in park and takes the key out of the ignition. His hand moves from my leg up to my chin, which he jerks in his direction. "Well, love, you let me know when you figure that out." Crowley's eyes search mine and I receive an eerie smile. "Shall I get you that drink now?" he practically purrs in my ear.
"Lead the way," I purr back, again surprising myself by how well I am still able to hide my rapidly beating heart and excitement. Gently I remove his hand from my face and maneuver my way out the door backwards, keeping him in my line of sight. He quickly exits the car on his side and moves past me to unlock his front door, holding it open for me. I give him a slight nod as I pass him and stroll into his entry hall.
Crowley grabs my hand and leads me into an office-type area. Behind the desk, he opens a drawer and pulls out a stout glass bottle with a dark amber liquid-scotch, maybe?-inside. He sloshes it around in the bottle some as he pulls out two glasses, then removes the cork for the top of the bottle and pours some in each glass. "Craig. Aged at least 30 years. That's my poison. Care to try?" Crowley asks, his voice only getting sexier. I take the glass he offers me and hesitantly take a sip, having never tried scotch before as I am more of just simply a beer person. The warm liquid trickles its way down my throat and spreads warmth throughout my body. I close my eyes to savour the taste. "I take it you like it, then, love?"
I nod. "Brilliant." Finishing the glass, I make a point of looking him over before I ask, "So, sir, what now? You have educated me on your fine scotch and have henceforth ruined all other rubbish alcohol for me. What have you to ruin for me next?"
Still holding his glass, he points at me. "You called me 'sir' again."
I close the space between us in just a few small steps, gently taking the glass from his frozen hand and placing it on the desk behind him. "Yeah? And what will you do about that, sir?" I ask as I pull his tie from his suit and thread it through my fingers. "If I recall correctly, you wanted to do something to my vocal cords?"
Crowley's chest starts rising and falling hard and fast, his breath hot on my face. "Yes, indeed I did." His breath gets caught in his throat as I inch my face closer to his, having to stand on my toes.
"And what would you do with them, sir?"
Crowley leans back so he is looking me in the eye and breaths out, "I would have them muted and ripped out that throat of yours so that all your lips can do is move."
"Sir?"
Crowley's jaw clenches, and in one fluid motion his hand clasps around my neck and he shoves me up against the wall with so much force that I swear I hear the wooden wall behind me splinter. I gasp for air and claw at the hand seemingly cutting off my life supply, but he is strong and will not let go. I search his eyes for some insight on what is happening, but am unable to read the emotion on his face. Who the fuck is this prick?! What have I- Crowley kisses me violently, moving his hand from my throat down my torso and back up my back, slipping his fingers beneath my shirt. His other hand grabs a handful of my hair and presses my face closer into his.
"Crowley..." I manage to mutter in between his kisses. They are long and hot and full of so much lust that they override any thoughts surfacing of warning or danger or the morality of this situation. I let his hands travel over the terrain of my body, stroking and grabbing and violating my privacy in every way imaginable. I move my mouth in rhythm with his, my tongue mapping the inside of his mouth. "Off..." I moan, tugging at his suit jacket. Crowley complies, shimmying out of the jacket. With shaking fingers I undo his tie and begin unbuttoning his shirt while he trails kisses down my neck.
"Off," he repeats hoarsely, pulling my leather jacket down my arms and throwing it to the floor. I refuse him the pleasure of taking off my shirt and do it myself, dangling it by my finger tips and backing away from him slowly. How I manage an air and strut of confidence is beyond me, seeing as I have no idea where the bedroom is, but I keep on walking anyways.
"The name's Ruby, by the way."
Crowley looks over at me with a look of utter shock, though his face slowly breaks into a sly smile. I stop at the bottom of a double staircase. He walks over to me in complete control of himself, aiming to seem calm and collected, though I can see the slight twitches of his fingers. When he reaches me he simply plucks my shirt from my outstretched hand and lets it float to the crimson carpet beneath our feet. Our eyes hold for just another moment before I cautiously start heading up the stairs, though still not breaking our eye contact. Crowley follows, just as cautiously, until we reach the landing. From there I have a clear view of the bedroom, which I turn and walk into.
When I hear Crowley close the door behind us I spin around and push him into it, switching our rolls from before. My fingers feel and splay across his bare heaving chest, trembling under the beauty of his figure. I press my mouth to his deeply, the taste of scotch still strong on his breath, before making a trail of kisses down his neck, his chest and torso, until I reach his belt buckle. I smile up at him as I drop to my knees and slowly undo the latch and slide it out from the loops. Feeling more confident with myself, though not letting myself get cocky, I tug at the bottoms of his pants and order, "Take these off." I lean backwards on my heels as, again, Crowley complies. I throw his pants across the room.
"My God you're beautiful..." I trail off as I bask in his manhood. His huge manhood. "Holy fuck," I whimper as I descend, feeling oddly privileged to be going down on this man. A shiver racks its way through Crowley's body, a deep moan escaping his lips as I run my tongue along the bottom of his shaft. Once I reach the tip, I suck long and hard before working my way back down again. My hand reaches up and strokes his abs while I work, Crowley's fingers intertwining in and fondling with my hair. I pick up the pace, my head bobbing along his length, my finger nails digging into and dragging down the length of his chest.
"G-god Ruby! Fuck, fuck, fuck," Crowley practically growls, his back arching against the door. His grip in my hair tightens and I shudder, but continue to blow the fuck out of him, taking pleasure from his pleasure, priding in myself for making this man scream my name. Crowley shudders and moans again, nearly reaching his peak. My hand slides down his now-slick torso and I grab his ass, pulling him more into me. Crowley tenses up and lets out a deeply satisfied sigh as he cums in my mouth. I barely have time to swallow it all before he pulls me back up to him and kisses me fiercely, pulling me to him and fitting our figures together. "Tell me, love," he murmurs against my lips, "why have you still got those clothes on?"
Without waiting for any further approval Crowley's hands dart behind my back to unhook my bra, which flits down to the floor. He smiles at the sight of my breasts, then shoves me by my shoulders backwards, though not with enough force that I fall on my ass. He seems disappointed by this and tries again, shoving me backwards even harder so that I topple onto the bed. Crowley practically rips off my shoes, then trails his fingers up my legs and unbuttons my jeans, shimmying them down and dropping them off the edge of the bed. I close my eyes and my body shudders in anticipation as he fingers the waist band of my underwear.
"Jesus, Crowley just get on with it already," I moan.
His fingers stop moving and only hover over the skin where they were moments before, making me cry out. I sit up and grope for him, needing him to touch me, pleasure me. I cry out again as he straddles my hips and restrains my arms outwards, pressing down on my wrists. "What did you say?" He purrs in my ear.
I tilt my head back and suck in a deep breath, trying to get my breathing under control. I fail before I even start when Crowley nips at my ear and begins to stick kisses on my neck. "What did you say, sir? I seem to recall you asking me why my clothes were still on, and yet here I am still with cotton covering my pride," I reply frustratingly.
"Now, Ruby," Crowley growls, his hand reaching up to my neck, "what did we discuss?"
Inspired, I smack away his hand and slam upwards into him, flipping him over and straddling him. I grab his hands and place them on my breasts, then grind against him, kissing him strongly. "I can make you every inch a king," I whisper against his lips.
"Oh, I quite like that, Ruby."
"What? 'King'?" I move his hands down to my underwear and help him relieve me of its restrictions. "King of what?" I roll over again, bringing him with me so he's on top of me again. All he does is stare at me, hands unmoving, damp body still. I had envisioned this night the other way around. God, Ruby, you are such a fucking whore. This poor man. "What's the matter, darling? Cowardly Lion got your tongue?" I grab the hair at the bottom of his neck and pull his face down to mine, but still not quite touching. "You're turning this night into hell, Crowley. Man up. Touch me. Make me scream your name," I purr against his lips. "Oh yes, there you are. King of Hell..."
"Then that makes you my queen." Crowley thrusts into me and I melt into his arms, my fingers digging into his shoulder blades, holding on for dear life. I grind against him in time with the rhythm of his thrusts, the whole world disintegrating around us. I never want to go back. Crowley's hand feels up my stomach and grips onto my breast, massaging it, while the other white-knuckles the head board.
"I like getting kissed while I'm getting fucked," I manage to breathe out, then moan as he goes deeper, harder, faster. His hand reluctantly releases my breast to come up to the back of my head, putting our mouths together, starving for another taste of the other. I frantically pull him closer to me, not wanting an inch of this man to go to waste, wanting to have all of him-wanting to know all of him. I groan in complete ecstasy and reach down the length of my body about to go for my clit, but he grabs my hand and pushes it out of the way.
"That, my love, is my job," Crowley barely breathes out. He trails his fingers down my torso and finds my clit, toying with it. I feel my back arch off the bed as Crowley picks up the speed of his thrusts and I am so close I'm so close, so fucking close
"Fuck, Crowley!" it was my turn to scream, and I let myself completely go, Crowley himself not too many minutes later. The warmth of the mess we make coats my legs and his stomach, but I can't find it in me to care. Nothing exists but the pleasure and Crowley, his hands, his lips. I moan as he collapses into me, our chests heaving so fast and so hard that I am unable to distinguish between the two. The next kiss he plants on my lips is gentle, like a breeze, which sways us to our sides, blowing away all happenings. He splays his hand over the small of my back and slides me closer to him, our twisting bodies fitting perfectly together. I relax into his arms and the exhaustion and the sweat that coats both of us down to the bone. I release myself unto this king and his passion.
"You have pleased me greatly, my king."
"As have you, love," he replies, stroking back wet strands of my hair sticking to my face. He opens his mouth to say something more, but I put a silencing finger to his lips. I don't say anything to him either, he just nods, and sometime after that we both drift off into unconsciousness, trying to relish in the passion of this night.