BANNED: An enemies to lovers romance (Love and Liquor Book 1) Read online

  "Erm, can I have my pint then, love?"

  I realise the pint has been overflowing while I've been eavesdropping and daydreaming. I make up some crap about it being a new barrel and running the beer through the system.

  After the bloke moves away, I spot his dark hair, and watch his dark chocolate brown eyes fix on Anna, the other barmaid. He gives her a cheeky smirk that crinkles the sides of his eyes, and I watch her flirt back.

  My next customer wants a packet of cheese and onion crisps, the box of which is, unfortunately, positioned right behind Anna. I move across and as I reach into the box I hear him tell her, "You're too gorgeous to be trapped behind a bar on a Saturday night." I can't help myself. I make a barfing sound while I'm digging in the box and then look entirely innocent as I get back up and give my customer his crisps. I can feel Evan's eyes burning through me but he can do one. He ignores me, so I'm not giving him the time of day.

  As it gets near closing time, Dan tells me he's doing an afterbar with a few customers and asks if I want to stay.

  "Thanks, but Callum is picking me up."

  Not two minutes after I say the words, Callum comes through the door. His short blonde hair is gelled up on top and he’s wearing a smart white shirt and black suit pants. He’s a bit overdressed for the Nag’s Head. He saunters straight over to the bar, leans over and kisses me on the mouth. "Hiya, gorgeous."

  I hear a quiet but unmistakable barfing noise coming from a certain man's direction. Callum remains oblivious.

  On my tiptoes, I lean over again, wrap my arms around Callum's neck and give him a massive snog.

  "Have you finished work?" Callum asks, "because I want to give you your anniversary present."

  "It's not until tomorrow," I say, my forehead creasing. I don't want him to give me a present, I'm going to dump him later. I can't have anyone getting too serious with me. I don't want anniversaries. I should have finished with him last month but he has a really comfy bed.

  "I can't wait." Callum beams. "I had it all planned out for tomorrow, but nope, I can't bloody wait. Come around the bar, Rach."

  "I can't. I need to clear up," I tell him, because I don't like the expression on his face.

  "Nah, Rachel, you're fine. Take off," says Dan.

  Trust me to have a nice boss. Why couldn't he be a slave driver?

  I sigh, go around the back to grab my belongings and come out on the customer side of the bar, to find Callum on one knee.

  Yes, this is how I dreamed of being proposed to. The groom-to-be on his knees in spilled beer and dirty footprints in the middle of a thronged bar on a Saturday night, with drunk people singing and half-shagging around the place and no doubt a pile of vomit somewhere nearby. It's a fairy tale come to life.

  "Rachel Summers, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

  I look at the sea of faces around me. Although I want to break up with him, I can't do it now, here. Not in front of hundreds of people. It would be too embarrassing. I'll do it outside. Shit, he's put me in a right spot. I nod my head and mumble yes.

  The drunks roar their congratulations. Callum puts what he tells me is his grandmother's engagement ring on my finger. It's too big and swirls around, but I say it’s fine and ask if we can leave.

  "Yes, let's go and find somewhere to celebrate, like in bed," Callum says.

  I walk outside and get in Callum's car.

  "Don't set off yet," I tell him. I turn to face him. "Callum, you're wonderful, but…"

  "Shit," he says. "Shit, shit, shit."

  "I felt pressured in there, in front of everyone. I'm sorry. I don't want to marry you. To be honest, I want us to split up. I took all my stuff from your house yesterday. Did you not notice?"

  Callum shakes his head. "My mother called round. I thought she'd tidied up. But, Rach, I love you. Don't do this to us, please?"

  "I'm so sorry." I remove the ring and grab hold of his hand, turning his palm up. I place the ring back inside it. "I don't feel the same. I wish I did, but I just don’t. You deserve someone who will love you so much it hurts and who’ll rejoice when you propose."

  I jump out of the car and walk off down the street.

  He follows me in the car and winds down the passenger window. "At least let me drop you home."

  "No. It’s okay." I shake my head. "I want to walk, it's not far. I need the fresh air."

  With that, I watch as Callum drives out of my life. I feel guilty as fuck. The man loved me enough to propose with an antique ring. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to get over this stupid crush on the manslut. It’s affecting my whole life.

  Spotting the current answer to my problems, I walk into the off-licence and buy a small bottle of whiskey with a screw top and then I walk around the back of the pub and sit on a swing in the kids’ play area. I know Dan’s doing afterbar but I don't feel like joining them in person behind the bar. I am, however, going to join them in spirits.

  The whiskey burns my throat. It's such a good feeling. Remarkable liquor. I carry on drinking and as I begin to mellow, I start to play on the swing and slides. After totally losing track of time, I hear patrons start to leave the pub.

  "Party's over, Rach," I say, and then scold myself. "Sshh. Wait til they're all gone before you go home. Esssppeccciiallly if fuckface is with a bird."

  As I get up and everything spins, I thank the Lord that my bar uniform consists of jeans, a tee-shirt and trainers, so I don't have heels to contend with, like most Saturday night drunks. Anyway, I'm just merry.

  I sneak up to the side of the pub and peer around the corner to see if the coast is clear, only as I tilt my head, the whole pub goes with it. I fall arse over tit onto the ground.

  "Rachel?" A dark haired, sex god looms over me, but not in a going to shag me way.

  "That's my name, don't wear it out," I sing-song.

  His face doesn’t look happy from this angle, and where's his lay for tonight? He’s on his own.

  "Where's your Saturday shag?" I shout up.

  "Pardon?"

  "You know." I twirl my hand up from my position on the floor. Actually, I might sleep here. I feel a bit tired, plus the stars look so pretty in the sky. I sigh, content.

  Evan plonks himself next to me on the ground. "I can't fucking stay in that upside down position, gonna be sick if I do."

  "Seduce. Shag. Send home," I shout out.

  "Are you drunk?"

  I look around for my bottle of whiskey. Shit, I left it on the top of the slide. I sit up but everything spins around again. "Whoa." I put my hand up towards Evan. "Just give me a minute." The spinning stops and I get up. "I'm going down there to get my whiskey," I tell him.

  He gets up. "You're not going down there on your own. You might fall again." Then he hiccups.

  "Are you drunk, Evan, too? Is that why you've not pulled, cos you're so drunk it won't work?" I hold up my index finger and demonstrate it flopping.

  "Where's Callum?" Evan snaps. "Why has he left you alone in this state?"

  I stagger down the back of the pub towards the slide. "Callum went home." I pick up my whiskey. "And I went to the offy."

  "Fuck, Rach, I'm pissed myself. That must be why you're making no sense tonight. Why aren't you with your fiancé?" He spits the word out. "Wait until I see him, leaving you in this state."

  "He's not my fiancé." I take another swig of whiskey and pass it to Evan. "Drinky?"

  "You accepted his proposal, Rachel. That’s usually what you call your husband-to-be."

  "Yes, but then we came outside, I unaccepted it."

  "You did what?”

  “I unaccepted it. I took my yes back.” I put my fingers and thumb together and make a pinching expression as if I’m retracting something."

  “You said no?”

  "Yup."

  "But why?"

  "Because he's not my number one. He's not my one. He’s my number, er, maybe two. He’s a poo." I cackle with laughter.

  "You're one what?"
/>   "I…" I sway a little as I make my speech. Then I poke him hard in the chest with my index finger. "I… am seduce, shag, stay the whole fucking night."

  "I do not want to talk about your sex life, Rachel."

  He doesn't get to say anything else as I launch myself at him, locking my lips on his and knocking him back onto the soft play area matting, the bottle of whiskey sails out of his hand and into some bushes down the bottom of the beer garden.

  loss of control and all common sense

  Evan

  She's not engaged.

  My inebriated brain hears those words and blocks out every ounce of common sense from my mind.

  She's not committed herself to that wanker.

  She's free.

  No, she's not, my brain and cock command. She's mine.

  So instead of moving her to arm's length when she launches herself at me, I try to cushion her fall, and it's me who falls with a mighty whoop onto the play matting. Good job I'm pissed. You bounce when pissed. All I can focus on is that Rachel is lying on top of me. Her dark hair is tickling my face. I grasp it in my hands, feeling the silken strands. They are just how I've imagined them on the too-many-times-to-count occasions I've jacked myself off in a Rachel fantasy. Then I pull her face down to mine and force her mouth open with my tongue before tangling it with her own.

  I groan as my cock strains against my jeans. I swear it's going to punch a hole at the side of my zip. If cocks could sing and dance we'd be on stage winning Britain's Got Talent right now.

  Then I hear a voice. "Really? In the children's play area? Up you get and off you go home."

  We roll off each other to see Dan, the landlord, standing there, arms folded. "I have to say, I don't usually find my newly-engaged bar staff rolling around with men who aren't their fiancé around the back on my clear up."

  Rachel sits up and looks at Dan with a fake look of guilt, but there's a tell-tale smirk at the corner of her mouth.

  "I only accepted in the pub. I ditched him outside."

  Dan shakes his head, a look of amusement in his eyes. "Well, thank goodness for that, because I didn't think he was the one for you. It's about time you two” – He points from one of us to the other – “stopped eye-fucking each other and got it on once and for all. However, you aren't doing it here, so run along."

  We get up and I grab Rachel's hand before she can change her mind and run away from me.

  Don't do this. It's a tiny whisper in my drunken mind.

  FUCKING YES. LET'S BONE HER. My cock screams.

  Guess which one I listen to?

  Rachel

  He holds my hand and we practically sprint to his house. That is, between stopping in shop doorways to snog.

  He opens the door and that's it. My feet are over the threshold.

  I'm in, right where I've always hoped to be. Where I've dreamt of being so many times. I wonder how my fantasy will compare to reality?

  I’m in Evan's house. Fuck looking at the furnishings, Rachel. Where's the goddamn bedroom? Oh, okay, it would appear I'm being dragged upstairs towards it.

  Whoop! I'm not actually sure if that's my brain or vagina rejoicing. Maybe it’s both? “Whoop.”

  Evan looks at me strangely and I realise I did that out loud. Oh well.

  At the top of the stairs there's a full-length mirror and as I walk past it I high five the reflection of my own hand. You’ve done it biatch. You’re through the door and upstairs. Go, Rachel, go!

  We're through to his room. It smells of his aftershave. His bed is dressed with clean bedding. The duvet has grey and black stripes and matching pillowcases. I'll bet any amount of money there are condoms in the top drawer of his wooden bedside table. This is how his stage is set out for his shagging show. I don't care who has gone before, just that I'm here now.

  I pull my tee over my head, revealing a black lacy bra. Balconette style, it holds up my 36c's to perfection. I hear Evan groan. He picks me up and throws me down on the bed. I bounce slightly and feel my breasts jiggle. His fingers unbutton the top of my jeans and then he lowers my zipper. His warm hands tickle my hips as he drags my jeans off and discards them on the floor. My matching knickers follow. I sit up and help him out of his own jeans and lick my lips when I see the erection straining against his boxers. He peels off his own tee and throws it behind him and then he pushes me back onto the bed.

  I breathe a massive relaxed sigh and he hasn't even started yet. I'm booked in for the Heavenly Evan experience. Everything I've heard at the bar I'm now going to experience myself. I recall every sentence I’ve heard about the man to the forefront of my mind, starting with:

  'Oh, that thing he does with his finger and his tongue...'

  He pushes my knees up and opens my thighs wide. My core clenches as I see him hover over it. He closes his eyes and then opens them as he tongues me right there. My hips buck up off the bed. I love a man going down on me. Callum was never too keen. Evan feasts on me like I'm the most amazing lemon meringue pie. My clit, a stiff peak of meringue, and the lemon filling — well, I'm sure you get the picture. He swirls his tongue over my peak and then dips in to taste my filling. Then he adds a finger, while he laves my clit with his tongue. I don't know what the hell he touches with that finger as he swirls it around inside me, but I'd take a wild guess at my G-spot because I feel myself build in record time and then I explode all over his face.

  I'm breathless, laid back against the pillow. "Fuck, Jesus, that. Oh my God, that."

  The drawer is opened, and as I guessed, it houses his condom collection. A condom packet is torn by his teeth. He stands at the edge of the bed, shrugging off his boxers. You know how in books the woman always says, 'how the hell will I fit that in me?', well, HOW THE HELL WILL I FIT THAT IN ME?

  'His cock is huge, isn't it?'

  Yes, I answer, in reply to the past women at the bar. It is, I agree. He rolls the condom over his dick and then positions himself over me. For a moment, I tense. Oh my God, it's actually happening! Am I dreaming? Please, please, please, don't let this be a cruel dream that I'm going to wake from at any moment. Then he pushes against me. Hell, yeah, I'm not dreaming!

  He inches in slowly, and I relax to accommodate him. I place my hands on his butt and feel it tighten with each slow thrust. His arse is taut. I resist giving it a little slap. Fully inside me, he then starts to pull out, almost sliding the whole way out before plunging back in again.

  I feel a thrill all the way through my core. It travels into my breasts, up my back and into my brain. Everything is connected as I experience the best goddamn shag I've ever had, just as I knew I would.

  'Did he do that thing with his finger in your butt hole?'

  His hands are on my breasts, pinching and stroking. He kisses the side of my neck and I feel my skin goose bump. I make so many noises. All the groans and 'Oh fucks’ that have escaped Evan's mouth have turned me on even more and I'm soaked down there. His thrusts quicken and my body rejoices in the feel of his movements. He places a finger at my clit and rubs there quickly. As my own orgasm hits I feel him tighten, and then groan as he spills out into the condom. He then relaxes, his body moving over to one side of me, so he's resting against me, half on and half off. He slips out of me, removing the condom, tying it and placing it on the floor. Then he pulls me against him.

  'Did he do that thing with his finger in your butt hole?'

  No. He didn't.

  Why not?

  Evan

  She untangles herself from my arms and sits up.

  "Evan, why didn’t you stuck your finger in my butt hole as we were about to come?"

  It's like a bucket of cold water has been thrown on me.

  I sit up quickly, all of a sudden feeling quite sober and very awake.

  "Pardon?"

  She has her arms folded across her chest now, which blocks my view of her gorgeous tits.

  "When all your previous women have spoken of your prowess, they always, always, go on and on about the finger
in the butt hole. They said they came like freight trains when you did it. So why" – her jaw tenses – "have you not done that with me?"

  You shagged Rachel.

  You shagged Rachel.

  YOU SHAGGED RACHEL.

  YOU BROKE THE RULE.

  Shit. Fuck. Wank. Bastard.

  It's like a siren is going off in my head. WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP.

  What is she going on about? Finger in her butt hole? Eh?

  "Rachel. What are you talking about?"

  "What you do with your moves. Your Heavenly Evan moves. I got the G-spot finger while you go down, the experience of your huge cock, but I didn't get the finger in butt hole. I was looking forward to it. All the women say they come so hard when you do that."

  I shake my head as if I can get her words to fall out of my ears so I never heard them.

  My moves?

  Heavenly Evan?

  Discussed? What, in public, or in private chats?

  An awful realisation hits me. I shag them all the same. They all get one bout of me and I'm so used to my routine, I don't deviate from what gets me, and them, off. To the point where Rachel knew what she was getting before she got it and is now annoyed because I fucked her differently.

  I put my head in my hands.

  Oh my God.

  "You're going to have to bonk me again, Evan, because there's no way I'm not knowing what that's like."

  I move a hand away from one eye.

  "Excuse me?"

  She lies back on the bed. "You heard me, let's go."

  I shake my head. "Rachel. I'm sorry, this has been a mistake. A drunken mistake. There's no way I would treat you like those other women. I should never have done this with you."

  She screams. "Oh my God, why? Why am I so fucking different? Why can't I have your big cock in me? Why can't I have your finger in my ass? I don't want to be different, Evan. I want to be the same as the others."