Rescue the Barista

I’m going to get you fucked first.”
“I want to drink your cum. I want to taste you and swallow you.”
He pulls me up, and he slaps my ass before he starts to work my silky pants down. “You can do that, you bad, bad little barista,” he slaps me again, “When we’ve got you nice and pregnant.”
His hand plunges into the back of my lacy red panties. He pushes down my ass. It reminds me of his juddering me in front of the construction workers. My stomach zings like it’s hollow. I feel like I’m ready to come right away.
His strong fingers press into my channel. Up against the back of my clit. Then he’s inside me. His hand is dripping wet and I’m clinging, squirming and moaning. I lift my leg but he slaps my thigh.
“First, we need to get all these clothes off you…”
He pulls down my pants and panties and I shrug off my bra. He moans appreciatively as he takes hold of my breasts. He kisses me long and deep. My bare flesh against him, I wriggle and push to be closer, to get more of me connected with more of him. He lifts me with tender strength.
He holds me up, cradling my ass in his hands. He looks into my eyes and I feel like I am actually melting inside like a collapsing glacier. “You're really mine, beautiful barista. Jamie, I love you so much,” and he drops me, impales me on the massive spike of his cock
I’m stretched wide. It’s a rush like cold fireworks and hot showers exploding inside me. I’m catapulted. My stomach flips over and over. I fling my arms tight around him, hide my face in the crook of his neck. Gasp and groan as I ride him like a jockey.
His pelvis rolls and tilts, driving his shaft into me like a machine, like a road drill. I’m convulsing. All my muscles flex and contract. Clenching and stretching.
The ripping ache of his cock stretches me so hard, so wide, and the blasting sensation of him filling me so deep, makes me squeeze and whimper, bounce and stretch.
Pushing and pulling.
Needing and wanting.
He cannons into me, leans me against the wall, grips my ass, holds my thighs.
When I look up, his eyes fix onto mine. I can see he’s almost at the point of coming, too. I hammer him as hard as I can. He saws into me. Ruthless. Merciless. Unstoppable.
Exploding sparks inside me drive me to a high plateau. I feel like I daren’t fall. Like I’m on a precipice. Like the earth will rush up at me. Like a tsunami, poised at the point before the splashing crash.
We both stop. I tremble as we look into each other’s eyes. Both ready. Both knowing. This it it.
I implode, collapse, splash into cascades as he slides the whole length of his pulsing rod inside me. I feel his shaft swell. A ring of thickness starts at the base, then bolts to the crown. Hot, thick, sticky jizz fills me, then more. And more.
My teeth sink into his neck. My ass rises and falls. My walls grip and flutter on his cock. His fountain and my gushing juices mingle.
He presses, drilling into me and blasting more hot spunk into me. I'm clenching, clawing, trembling. Helpless.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I shout. “Harder. Don’t stop.” He bends his knees, slaps my ass cheeks and rocks into me, again and again. I’m bursting like a waterfall.

Epilogue
I’m already in the shop when I tell him on the phone, “It’s what I do, Angelo. Besides, it’s my baby. It wouldn’t be Christmas if I didn’t stop in to give it some TLC. I’m just opening up until lunch, okay?” Over the phone, I know he can hear the tinkling of the little bell. He knows it’s too late to argue.
“I want you opening up here. At home. With me. I got something needs your TLC.”
“Later, my devilish angel.”
“I’ve got a surprise for you to unwrap.”
“I bet you have.”
I have a surprise for him, too. But I won’t tell him yet.
I’ve decorated the place. I think I’ve pushed it just beyond the edge of tasteful, but not too far. I’ve got a pot of mulled wine on. Just enough cloves and cinnamon to make it a little spicy. I’ll give a glass to anyone who comes in and wants it. Nice Scandinavian songs play in the background on the stereo systems when Summer comes in.
“Happy Christmas,”
We hug.
“Happy Christmas.”
She says, “I love what you’ve done with the place.” It’s ages since we’ve had a chance to chat and be together in the same room.
It is nice to catch up. A few of the regulars stop in, some just to say, ‘Merry Christmas,’ and that makes me feel good. They’re all glad for the mulled wine, whether they take coffee or not.
“You know,” I tell Summer, “we’re a little family here.”
And that’s about when Angelo shows up and he’s brought his buddies. He still looks like the hottest Capo. Maybe it’s the Italian suit, but I think it’s more the look in his eye. Like a cultured killer.
I have mixed feelings about seeing Nico and H, but I give them each a glass. Nico is super charming. He’s brought holly, cake and he’s wrapped a really nice box of chocolates for me.
I know that Angelo still sees them. And that they ask him for advice and guidance. But he tells me he’s not involved in anything and I believe him. I can’t really expect a leopard to turn into a house-cat. Not overnight, at any rate.
When Aggie stops in, the strawberry blonde with the pink streaks, she stays around a short while and she’s brought a wedding and Christmas gift for Angelo and me. A little snow globe.
Everybody straightens when Julius arrives. Even I know it’s Julius. Not only from the