Hot Novel Pub Novels & Stories

But James slightly shook his head. "Get me to The First!" Grey raised his eyebrows at James' order. James asked him to get to the First pub at 2 a.m. What are the odds? Grey glanced to see James was shaking his head slightly in confusion. He could no longer return to the Ritz for now. James needed a space. So instead of getting home, Grey drove him to a pub called The First. James bought that pub before moving to New York. The 24-hour pub opened its doors to its new owner at almost 2.30 a.m. It provides James with a VIP room with a particular bartender who only serves him and his friends.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast golden hues across the luxurious hotel suite, its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city lights far below. Rain pattered gently against the glass, a soothing rhythm that matched the quickening pulse in Ethan’s veins. He stood by the window, shirt unbuttoned, the fabric hanging open to reveal the lean, sculpted lines of his chest. Marcus watched him from the edge of the king-sized bed, his dark eyes heavy with desire, lips slightly parted.

I said, trying to start a conversation. "A lot," she laughed. * * * "Clarison is a beautiful name" I smiled. "I know," she laughed. "So, why don't we go to a hotel and you know" I licked my lips. "I get what you are saying. Let's go already" she said as she stood up, wiggling her hips as she walked. * * * Clarison Mitchell 'This man is even easier to fool than I thought' I smiled at him as we entered the room.

Outside, the rain fell cold, involuntarily to the point of hitting the street lamp, causing it to flash continuously, and finally, in vain. Happy Hill is a unique pub in this bustling market, so it also has many special features that cannot be found elsewhere. In addition to the unique, interesting aspects of the wine room, there are other unusual aspects. The unusual can sometimes be good, but sometimes it can also be bad. But who cares? It's still a tacit rule that all employees here must follow, an unwritten rule that everyone adheres to. The first feature is that this pub welcomes guests at midnight and closes at dawn, like a giant cage filled with beautiful moths.

W: “Sure. Make sure to avoid being seen or recognized.” R: “What do you mean?” W: “Explain in person?” R: “Alright, see ya.” The Pavilion was one of the largest pubs in Apex city. Luxurious and classy, it also exuded a mysterious vibe. The modern architecture, gorgeous interiors, private rooms, dim lights without being shady, gigantic open bar counter, large open dance floor on top of a small-intimate dance floor on the open rooftop, everything was remarkably low-key luxurious. The noble, classy, and mysterious vibe of the Pavilion made it quite a hit in the city despite its exuberant cost.

Couldn't help but chuckle again, "Now, maybe I can drink a few cups of alcohol before going home." I went to the hotel bar where we first met, it was owned by my cousin who pleaded with me to take the place of his one employee who suddenly went MIA that night. The lack of male hosts and his desperation forced me to help him that night, I'd never imagined that being a host was like that at all.

I ask, not even bothering to go in the house. "She's with my mom, entertaining some clients," he answers in the transmitter-induced monotone. "That's amazing." Susan says, her eyes darting between Bobby and the transmitter. "Where are they?" I ask between clenched teeth. "At the new downtown Stetzen Hotel," he says. "Things should be getting started momentarily," he adds, looking at his watch. "What things?" Susan asks. "Several of Mom's more wealthy clients have paid a bundle for what Mom is calling 'a teenage pussy party'," he says matter-of-factly.

Then he nodded slowly at the man to his left who reached into a folder. Next thing, a photograph was sliding across the smooth surface of the table to me. I looked down at it. My stomach tightened. Dennis. The photo had caught him mid-step on the pavement outside a hotel. The view was familiar. How wouldn't it be when it was my usual hotel? My teeth sank softly into my tongue. The photo had obviously been taken three days ago. The morning after the one night stand. The morning after I had held his waist and sank my dick deep into his asshole.

The night is hot and I went to drink a few beers at The Sickle Pub, a bikers bar that plays dubious quality country music, but it’s the nearest bar from my house to relax between a pints of Duff. Some women arrive with their cowboy boots and really short mini skirts and the night seem promising. I enter the pub and go straight to a corner of the counter, a smooth Dolly Parton song comes out of the jukebox, I ask for a well bodied Duff and try to distract myself. I look towards the Pub entrance and my eyes are attracted like bees to honey by that mass of muscles and masculinity, modestly sexy. The austere image of law authority remains in his imposing posture, with his legs a little spread, b

💦Shared Ride, Shared Heat💦 “Fuck, it’s hot tonight.” I fanned myself with my hand as I climbed into the back seat of the Uber Pool, the Miami night air thick and sticky even at 11:45 PM. My tight black mini dress clung to my curves, the hem riding high on my thighs from the movement. I had been out dancing with friends, but they’d paired off with guys at the club, leaving me to head back to my hotel alone.