DIRTY ANGELS
His mind slid, unbidden, unwanted, to the new barmaid he'd hired last week.
Remy. Twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. Sexy little thing with tits that strained every low-cut top she wore, red hair that spilled over her shoulders like spilled ink. He pictured bending her over the stockroom crates, her skirt hiked, panties yanked aside, that tight cunt swallowing him inch by inch while she gasped his name. How many nights before she stopped pretending she didn't want it rough? How long before she begged? The fantasy snapped taut. Hot ropes of cum painted the shower wall. He exhaled hard, the release doing nothing to dull the edge. He stepped out, dripping, towel slung low on his hips, and froze.