You Are My Mate Nikita Mirzani 2

Nikita Mirzani downed the next rum and Coke, her gaze still locked on the Herculean god who’d wandered in from the snow. If anyone was going to pluck her flower, She wanted it to be this guy.

He could christen her ship, plow her furrow, paddle her pink canoe and all those other purple euphemisms bouncing around her brain like demented Mexican jumping beans.

As if sensing her drooling appreciation and fascination, he looked her way. His eyes bored into me like some kind of burrowing Asian beetle. Just one glance from those piercing ice blues and he was under her skin, making her feel things she’d never felt before.

It was like she was in heat. In fact she was pretty sure she would go up in flames if he said even one word to me.

All those old clichés she’d read about in romance novels were playing out in front of her. She had heaving bosoms and was oh so willing to be plundered by his thick shaft. Dampness pooled between her legs. Was she actually creaming her thighs from the sight of him? Damn straight she was.

“Who. Is. That?” Nikita Mirzani finally managed to coherently ask.

“I have no idea,” Xander said. “He comes in here about once every couple of months. He doesn’t say a word. Just gestures. I think he’s got selective mutism or something.”

Silent, but oh so deadly.

“He kind of freaks me out. He just growls most the time and leaves in a bit of rage.” Xander shuddered. “If I were you, Doc, I’d stay clear of him.”

Not on your life.

Nikita Mirzani  had come here with one purpose. To get laid. She didn’t want to be married to her vibrator. She wanted to actually know what all those erotic romances were talking about. She was cock hungry and apparently very, very drunk.

He swaggered over to the bar, each heavy footfall pounding in her ears, keeping time with her pulse. The gorgeous hunk of man-flesh sat next to her on a barstool and stared at her in a predatory way. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but she liked it all the same. It was devouring, and her girlie bits stood at attention.

“Hi,” she said.

He nodded and motioned to Xander, who slid a beer toward him. The hunk frowned and Nikita Mirzani swear she heard something that sounded like a dog’s whine. She shook her head. She really was working too hard.

Hercules glanced her way again, dismay etched across his features as he took a swig of the local brand of beer. She glanced at the label, Bear Butt Breweries.

“Do you like Bear Butt beer?” She had an inkling it was a negative.

He shook his head.

“Why don’t you tell the bartender you want something else?”

He opened his mouth and pointed, before shaking his head. She heard the distinct whining again and shook her head. Way too overworked.

He began to sign, but now it was her turn to shake her head. “Sorry. I don’t know ASL.”

The godlike man’s expression drooped in disappointment.

“I don’t think he likes the beer,” she said.

Xander looked confused. “Of course he does. It’s what he always has.”

“Obviously he’s never told you.” I turned to the man. “Point to what you want or write it down.”

Xander eyed him warily. He glanced down at the paper menu on the bar. It was one of those picture kinds they have in Chinese food places, which featured photos of the different kinds of cocktails you could order.

The menu brought back a great sense of nostalgia for me. As a child she used to fantasize about the forbidden drinks in front of her. They were all different colors and looked so tasty.

She hadn’t seen one of these menus in years, not since She was eleven and asked Mrs. Ling at the Golden Dragon for Sex on the Beach. Her father had promptly picked her up and carried her out of the Golden Dragon. From that point on she never saw a cocktail menu again. They were strictly taboo to her right-wing father.

Lots of things were forbidden, including her current lascivious thoughts about sucking this man’s cock like a Tootsie Pop. Her pulse pounded behind her clit and Nikita Mirzani squirmed in her seat as heat crept up her neck to bloom in her cheeks.

The man grunted and pointed. Xander leaned over, displaying her silicone assets. A momentary pang of jealousy and uncertainty hit her.

She was older than this girl by a good decade at least. Her boobs only bounced and remained upright because they were lifted and separated by a bra made by a company that had discovered the secret of antigravity. Besides, she had a bit more padding.