Phoenix Rising (3 page)

Chapter Three

Jessa wadded up the bag from
Accessories and More
and stuffed it into her Coach handbag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she continued her walk down the street. The wind chilled her to the bone, but Jessa didn’t mind. Any sensation was preferable to the emptiness Will’s rejection had left in its wake.

It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she’d spent nineteen years killing herself with the transformation into perfect wife. She’d swallowed more pride than she’d ever thought possible. Not to mention all of the boring meetings, events, and functions she’d muddled through.

And at the end of it all, what had those people and that life ever done for her? Nothing. They condoned Will and his decision. She was nothing but yesterday’s girl.

Windows painted over in black gave way to a set of heavy wooden double doors. Neon beer signs flanking the doors announced that it was some kind of bar. Jessa didn’t need to see the name to know it wasn’t the kind of bar she should go into. Women like Jessa didn’t go to bars, much less unaccompanied in the middle of the afternoon. Whatever.

“Fuck them,” Jessa muttered before grabbing the handle and hauling the heavy doors open.

Once inside, the doors slammed shut with an ominous thud. It took several moments for Jessa’s eyes to become accustomed to the dim interior. Once they did, she realized there wasn’t much to see in the entrance. It was a lot of drab tile flooring and some kind of cage blocking the rest of her view. She spun to get a better look.

“I’ll need to see some ID.”

The sound reverberated throughout her body like a sonic boom. Turning, she found herself face to chest with the owner of the voice. His tree-trunk legs were encased in well-fitting black cargo pants. The material was snug at the hips and clung almost obscenely in the crotch area. The soft blue cotton blend shirt stretched taut across what could’ve only been a perfect washboard stomach. His biceps and broad shoulders tested the confines of the material. And his sleeves were rolled to the elbows to showcase a massive set of forearms corded with muscle and dusted with downy black hair.

She chanced a look up and was almost sorry. A body like that deserved an angelic face and long flowing locks. But his head was clean shaven, jaw set in iron, lips thinned, his nose aristocratic beneath deep-set eyes as black as night. His gaze looked like a glimpse at the pit of hell. It was positively unnerving. He was hard, masculine beyond any feminine daydream, and about as approachable as a demon.

“ID? Are you serious?”

It had been long years since someone had carded Jessa for anything. It should’ve been flattering. But in order to grab her ID, she was going to have to open her purse. And stuffed inside that rather large handbag was a plain white bag emblazoned with the words
Accessories and More
. She did not care to show him what kind of items she’d been shopping for recently.

“Am I serious?” His voice slid an octave. It turned from gravel to velvet in no more than one breath. A wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, turning his lips from thin to generous. The effect was amazing. He went from unforgiving to basely sexual in three words.

Her mouth went dry and her brain scrambled to regain control. It was all about control. Control, and how she couldn’t seem to keep a grip on it.

She became abruptly aware of his scent. Previously lingering below her radar, a swiftly indrawn breath brought the spicy masculine aroma tinged with sandalwood soap to her attention. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

His big hand lifted, thumbing at a sign hanging on the cage denying entrance to anyone underage. Jessa wavered. It was one thing to thumb her nose at convention and enter the bar. Somehow, it seemed more damning to pull out her wallet and flash her ID.

Deciding it would be worse to run with her tail between her legs, she slid one hand into the bag and rooted around for her wallet. It was tricky to get the wallet free without pulling anything else out. Jessa half expected he knew what she was up to. But nobody mentioned it, and acute relief washed over her when she handed him her driver’s license.

He looked it over and then lifted his black eyes. “Enjoy yourself, Jessa.”

It was impossible not to watch his lips form her name.
Jessa
. The slide and play turned them soft and pliant. She had the insane urge to suck his full lower lip into her mouth, lick its surface, and kiss him until she was out of breath.

She briefly wondered if she’d gone insane when a dizzying spurt of molten silk between her legs caught her by surprise. A tiny gasp escaped before she could choke it back. He smiled. He knew what he’d done with his voice. His eyes said as much.

She snatched her ID from his hand and stuffed the wallet back inside her purse. Looking everywhere else but at him, she headed for the bar.

It was no time to slump back against the bar and fan herself like some hormonal teen, though that’s exactly what Jessa felt like doing. Instead, she scraped up some self-respect and pretended everything was fine. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had ample practice doing that over the last nineteen years.

“What can I get for you?”

It didn’t take Jessa long to decide. She was already so far outside the parameters of normal, she had nothing left to lose. “An Irish car bomb.”

The bartender’s left eyebrow arched high, and he chuckled. “A lady with taste.”

There was a moment to collect her thoughts while she waited for the drink. It was hard to believe her life had been utterly unexciting less than twelve hours ago. Only that morning, she’d gotten up with the alarm clock, fixed breakfast for herself, and hurried off to help plan a charity dinner auction. How was it possible to go from charity housewife to chic-in-a-bar carrying porn-in-a-bag in less than one day?

The facts were obvious. Will left for Ginny. Not really a big surprise. Jessa was okay with that. They were getting a divorce after nineteen years of marriage. She was okay with that, too. But everything else definitely fell under the heading of
not okay
.

Women like Jessa didn’t ask explicit questions. They didn’t dwell on inappropriate behavior and lewd conduct. She shouldn’t have gone into a store like
Accessories and More.
And she had no business sitting at a bar drinking car bombs in the middle of the day.

Or was all that just a cop out? Deep down, if she were brutally honest, Jessa knew she’d see things differently. Thoughts of rebellion had littered her entire married life. But Jessa had always been one to sit and stew about it, hoard her rebellious desires and examine them privately behind closed doors. Now, it was almost as if the situation with Will had ripped her inhibitions away and dragged her into the open.

Jessa wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with that.

The arrival of her drink interrupted her self-recrimination. “One Irish car bomb,” the blue-eyed bartender said with a wink. “If you manage to drink that properly, I’ll give you two more for free.”

A challenge? It had been years since Jessa had spent time in a bar, before Will, before marriage, before she’d settled down and become a grown up. Jessa lifted first the Guinness, then the shot glass, and sniffed. The complex combination was deep, dark, with a hint of sweetness. A lot like the man at the door.

Breathing deeply, she dropped the shot of mingled Baileys and Jameson into the Guinness and inhaled them both as fast as she could swallow. The Guinness was thick, but the Baileys and Jameson turned the flavor to chocolate by the time her tongue registered the taste. Slamming the glass down on the bar, Jessa swiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Two more it is, then.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk on purpose,” she accused. “I didn’t think bartenders were supposed to do that.”

He plunked another car bomb down on the bar. “This is an old-fashioned kind of place. We encourage drunkenness.”

The obsidian-tinted Guinness gleamed in the dim light, and a grin kicked up the corners of Jessa’s mouth. “Well, bottoms up to you, then.”

The second one went down just as easily as the first. Without another word, the bartender set a third drink on the bar and hustled off to help another customer. Jessa took the opportunity to grab a second look at him. He had blue eyes, tousled blonde hair with a touch of curl and a beautifully proportioned body. The guy was kind of hot. Not that it should matter, not that it did. Jessa wasn’t in the market for another man. She wasn’t even certain she was sorry she’d been dumped by the first one.

The colors around her swirled, glistening as her vision first hazed and then became sharper. The room noise began to blur and the first pangs of a good buzz slipped down her spine. More people entered the bar. The music seemed loud, but wasn’t. It took a moment for Jessa to realize that the pounding in her ears was the sound of blood pumping through her veins.

Safely tucked into a corner of the bar, she secretly reveled in the opportunity to observe everyone else. They looked comfortable, like regulars of some sort. Most were locked into the age-old dance of courting. They teased and flirted as if they had nothing else to do with their lives.

Several couples garnered immediate attention, one in particular. They were bolder than the rest and had managed to find an out-of-the-way corner. The woman was beautiful, her lithe body athletic with taut young breasts and a rounded backside. The guy seemed to appreciate it. His hands reached around to squeeze the globes of her ass, earning a gasping giggle. She nibbled her way up his neck, breathing in his ear and whispering something. Maybe an invitation?

They moved farther into the corner. Jessa shifted on her barstool, her eyes straining to follow every move. He transferred the girl from his bulging biceps onto one of the tables. Big hands settled on her thighs. Their lips molded together. His hands slid her miniskirt out of the way.

Heat flushed Jessa’s body from every pore. Bright red patches bloomed on her cheeks before creeping down her neck. She tried to turn her head and found she could not. Her eyes were glued to the scene, to the sight of his hands on the woman’s flesh as they slid closer and closer to the apex of her thighs.

The strap of the woman’s camisole top slid down. A shoulder and half her right breast slipped into view. One rose colored nipple peaked beneath the Lycra material before pushing its way into the open. The man’s mouth closed around the taut bud. His tongue slid lovingly over its delicately textured surface. Jessa’s own nipples beaded into hard little points beneath her silk blouse. The woman gasped again and Jessa inhaled sharply. Hot arousal pooled in Jessa’s belly as the woman’s hands fumbled with the man’s zipper and released his hard cock.

Jessa clenched her teeth to stifle a cry as the man spread his lover’s legs and positioned himself at her entrance. Was no one going to stop this display? How could these people fling propriety to the winds and fornicate in public?

A soft cry reached Jessa’s ears as the man buried his cock to the hilt in the woman’s body. Even from across the room their mutual tension was visible in their beaded sweat and facial expressions. The table squeaked, blatantly thumping against a tall column with each stroke. A low hum grew louder as the man gave voice to the intense pleasure of the joining.

Seconds later, the woman’s high pants joined his low baritone and the tension shifted. Awed, Jessa could only stare in rapt fascination as the man gave three final thrusts. Each brutal assault earned a broken cry from his lover’s lips until the woman wrapped her legs around his waist and flung herself back in what could only be the abandonment of climax.

He groaned, one hand braced against the table, no doubt pouring his seed into his lover’s welcoming body. The primal act sent chills racing down Jessa’s spine. Had she ever once seen such a display of basic instinct?

No. In that moment, Jessa’s third-party involvement had been far more consuming than any participation ever had been.

Jessa’s cheeks flamed crimson with embarrassment. The sense of epiphany was replaced almost instantly with total embarrassment. Was she the only once to notice the scene playing out in the dark corner? A furtive glance around didn’t reveal anybody else paying attention. But a lump settled in the pit of her stomach when her eyes locked with the doorman’s.

He knew. His blatant, sexy as hell stare said as much. The effect of that knowledge was devastating. Jessa’s body was already heavy with need from watching the couple screwing in the shadows. Her nipples were painfully hard beneath her shirt. An empty sensation radiated from between her legs and her own juices were soaking the sensible scrap of white cotton between her legs. She was fighting a completely inappropriate desire to slip her hand between her thighs and find relief in a swift orgasm. And he knew it.

His big body was tense. Corded muscle rippled beneath soft caramel toned skin. A massive erection strained against the soft black material of his pants. Sweat beaded on his full upper lip. As if reading her thoughts, he pulled his lip into his mouth, sucking off the moisture. Jessa’s pussy clenched tightly and the primal urge to mate became almost too much to bear.

His gaze never wavered. Eyes blacker than a night in hell held hers until she was certain some kind of electromagnetic energy flowed between them.

“You’ve still got a drink there in front of you.”

Forcing a bright smile to her face, Jessa tried to remember that she was not a common whore out for a night on the town.

“I’m sorry,” she cleared her throat and forcefully reined in her lusty thoughts. “I was just taking a break. I didn’t want to fall asleep right here at the bar.”

He laughed. “I’m Alex Dalesio, by the way. Don’t worry about falling asleep. I’ll keep an eye out for you and wake you before the night is through.”

Alex grabbed a couple of draft beers for another customer and then headed back in her direction. It was almost as if he were hitting on her. The thought was flattering.

“You’re busy awfully early tonight, even for a Friday,” Jessa commented, looking around.