The front door swung open, and I looked up from my book to see Mark stepping in, a barstool balanced under one arm and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“What are you up to now?” I asked, setting my book aside and narrowing my eyes at the unexpected piece of furniture.

Mark grinned, kicking the door shut behind him. “I had an idea, and it involves this.” He set the stool down in the middle of the living room, brushing imaginary dust from his hands like he’d just done something heroic.

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not at all,” he said, dragging the stool into the center of the room. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Depends on what you’ve got planned,” I replied, amused but curious.

Mark straightened, confidence radiating from him. “We’re going to role-play. You’re a regular at my bar, and I’m the bartender. Tonight, I’m going to flirt with you and then fuck you after—in the ass.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at his boldness. “And this involves a barstool because...?”

“Because every great night starts with the right setting, – and on the barstool, your ass looks great. ” he said, pulling an imaginary towel from his shoulder like a practiced bartender. “Now, take a seat. Let me show you how good I am at mixing things up.”

Laughing softly, I decided to play along, sliding onto the stool. My dress rode up slightly, exposing more of my legs, and I noticed his gaze flicker downward before he cleared his throat.

“You’re staring already?” I teased, crossing one leg over the other slowly, my heel brushing against his shin.

“Can you blame me?” he shot back, leaning on the imaginary bar. “You walk in here looking like that, and I’m supposed to focus on pouring drinks?”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the invisible bar. “Maybe you should learn to multitask.”

Mark didn’t miss a beat, his fingers lightly brushing my forearm. “I’m pretty good at multitasking. Want me to prove it?”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. “And how exactly would you do that?”

Stepping closer, he let his fingers linger on my wrist, his touch warm and confident. “I’d start by making you a drink. Something smooth, something bold—just like you.”

I tilted my head, a slow smile curling my lips. “Bold? That’s quite an assumption.”

“It’s not an assumption,” he said, his hand sliding up to rest on my shoulder. “It’s an observation. Everything about you says you like to take risks.”

His words sent a thrill through me, but I kept my voice even. “And what makes you think you’re worth the risk?”

Leaning in, he rested one hand on the back of the stool, trapping me in place. His voice dropped to a low rasp that sent shivers down my spine. “Because I’ll make it worth your while.”

I let my hand drift to his chest, my fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his shirt. “Big words for a bartender. Think you can back them up?”

His grin widened, his confidence unshakable. “I don’t just think so. I know so.”

His hand rested on my thigh, and I felt my breath hitch. Instead of pulling away, I let my fingers slide lower, brushing over his abs.

“Bold moves,” I murmured, my tone teasing.

“You started it,” he replied, his thumb drawing slow circles on my skin.

I shifted on the stool, leaning back slightly, giving him a better view of my legs. “So, what’s your next move, Mr. Bartender?”

Mark stepped even closer, his knee brushing mine as his fingers crept higher. “I’d ask you out. Somewhere quiet, somewhere we could be alone.”

“And if I said no?”

His grip on my thigh tightened just enough to send my pulse racing. “You won’t.”

I bit my lip, enjoying the spark of mischief in his eyes. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to you? Always.”

His fingers trailed higher, igniting heat in their wake. I slid my hands around his neck, pulling him closer until our noses almost touched.

“What would you do next?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Mark’s lips brushed my ear as he chuckled softly. “I’d take my time, make sure you know just how much I want you.”

A shiver ran through me, my grip tightening on his shoulders. “And if I said yes?”

He pulled back to meet my gaze, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Then I’d fuck your right on this stool and show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”

The tension crackled between us, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re good at this.”

He grinned, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “It’s easy when I’ve got the best partner.”

Smiling, I leaned in, brushing my lips against his jaw. “Alright, bartender. You win. What’s next?”

Mark didn’t answer. Instead, he hooked his arms under my thighs and pulled my ass slightly off the stool. I let out a surprised laugh as he spanked my protruding ass with confidence.

It wasn’t long before I was folded in half, Mark’s cock sliding into my lubed asshole, stretching me in ways that made my breath hitch.

“Feels so good,” I gasped, my words coming out in broken moans. “Don’t… fuck, don’t you dare stop.”

My hair fanned out across the couch, forgotten as I lost myself in the rhythm of his hips slapping against me.

My orgasm built quickly, and from the deep, guttural sounds Mark was making, I knew he was close too.

“Fuck, Mark! I’m cumming!” I cried out as his fingers found my clit, flicking it expertly as he continued to pound into me.

Pleasure crashed over me in waves, leaving my body trembling. Mark groaned, pushing deep as he came, filling me completely before collapsing onto me, his breath ragged against my skin.

“You fuck well, Mr. Bartender,” I whispered, my voice shaky but playful.

Mark chuckled, his arms wrapping around me as we both caught our breath. “Best tip I’ve ever earned.”

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