Excerpt From The Bartenders Pride by TJ Dallas

We Will Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Programing After This Delicious Intermission...

 

Dear Reader subs,

 

This week I’m featuring a wonderful erotica author – TJ Dallas.

 

She writes some of the best lesbian erotica I’ve ever read. Fans of loving polyamory will adore this plot-driven erotica novel.

 

She’s just getting her feet wet in the indie-publishing industry but I see her going far!

 

Now onto the spotlight!

 

Today’s spotlight is an excerpt from Dallas’s debut novel called The Bartender’s Pride.

Synopsis:

Lara moves to the city after a bad breakup and gets a job at an LGBT nightclub. She struggles with coming to terms with her rising emotions for the women who work there, Harry in particular. This, because as far as she knew, she’s not gay!

 

Harry is one of seven managers at the Cardinal, and she has a set of skills that can help Lara, but she has to manage her own feelings about three of the other managers in the meantime—Lust, Gluttony, & Envy.

 

Things get heated between the women as they work through their complicated emotions for one another.

Harry and Madison FINALLY Work It Out!

 

Madison’s POV – Chapter 32 in The Bartender’s Pride

Later that week, I somehow found myself standing in one of the empty rooms in the gym, surrounded by various tins of paint, brushes, and dust sheets.

 

I looked around, wondering how I was going to do this without getting any paint on my jeans. Emilia had advised me to wear old clothes, but she hadn’t believed me when I’d told her I didn’t have any. I regularly updated my wardrobe to keep up-to-date with the latest fashion trends.

 

I’d decided on a pair of skinny, high-waisted blue jeans and a green blouse, which was the most casual I could find. I decided I wouldn’t miss them if they got a few speckles of paint on.

 

I sighed, looking around and retying my hair into a loose bun at the nape of my neck. White spirit? What’s that for?

 

I looked up as the door suddenly swung open, banging loudly against the wall, and Emilia pushed Harry in. Harry’s arm was forced high up the middle of her back, and she was struggling to free herself, trying to loosen Emilia’s hold on her. Emilia was sweating, and my jaw dropped. Harry had put up a real fight.

 

Harry’s eyes flashed angrily when she saw me. She let out a frustrated growl as Emilia released her, shoving her into the room.

 

Harry spun around, but Emilia stood her ground, daring Harry to try again. After a tense few seconds, Harry decided against it and stood catching her breath, gritting her teeth.

 

“I’ve had enough of the pair of you. Sort this out. Now.” Emilia slammed the door behind her and locked it from the outside. Damn it.

 

It was awkward, and we stood for several minutes in silence. Harry started muttering under her breath, and I risked a glance towards her. She knelt down and started going through the assorted paint rollers and tins of gloss.

 

She finally stood up, having found a few rolls of tape, and I frowned. I hadn’t painted before, and I didn’t know where to start.

 

She walked to the corner of the room, farthest away from me, and starting placing the tape along the edge of the skirting boards and around the plug sockets. After a few minutes, I realised she was protecting the edges from paint, and I moved closer to her, holding out my hand.

 

She dropped a roll of tape into my palm without looking up, and I imitated her in the opposite corner. We were quiet while we placed the tape around the room and then lay dust sheets down to protect the carpeted floor.

 

When we were done, she picked up a screwdriver from the table and started prying the lid off a tin of cream paint. It took a few seconds to come loose, but she placed the lid aside, picked up a small wooden rod and started to mix. She placed two black plastic trays side by side and poured a generous amount into each one.

 

She stood up, lifting one of the plastic trays and a paintbrush, and kneeled in the corner, starting to paint around the edges of the room. I took a guess that the other tray was for me.

 

We were silent for the first hour as we painted, and I started to get the hang of it. It was satisfying, and I marvelled at how much I’d done as I stood up to get more paint.

 

I lifted the paint tin, but it was heavier than I’d expected, and the handle loosened in my grip. Seconds later, I knelt in a large puddle of thick cream paint, leaning in it and imprinting a cream handprint on my blouse. For fuck’s sake.

 

Harry looked around, and I could see her struggling to hide a smirk. I narrowed my eyes.

 

“What am I supposed to do about this?” I scowled, gesturing to my clothes. Both knees, right down to my ankles, were covered.

 

“Whatever you want; it’s not my problem.” Harry shrugged, focusing on her paintbrush again.

 

“Unluckily for you, I am your problem. Emilia’s not letting us out of here, at least until we’ve finished, and I can’t work in these. Look at me!” I snapped.

 

Harry looked up, her eyes trailing over my legs, and I swallowed as a shiver ran up my spine.

 

“Is it hurting you?” she asked.

 

“Well, no, but—”

 

“Then you’ll be fine.” She turned around again, and I felt another flash of annoyance.

 

“I’m not doing any more, then; you’ll just have to finish on your own.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I knew it was petty, but I didn’t care because she was pissing me off. To be honest, I hadn’t been thinking clearly since she’d entered the room, anyway.

 

“Fine,” she muttered, sighing and rolling her eyes. She placed the paintbrush on the plastic tray and stood up.

 

My breath caught in my throat as she placed her thumbs into the waistband of her joggers, lowering them down. She wore a pair of knee-length shorts underneath, and I tried to hide the pink flush I knew had risen on my cheeks.

 

She stepped out, handing them to me, and then lifted her T-shirt from her waist. She had nothing else underneath that except a plain black sports bra, and I swallowed the lump in my throat as she revealed her torso. Her abdominals were something else. While both Harry and Emilia had a six-pack, Harry’s was softer, athletic, and more feminine. I forced down a wave of arousal.

 

Her skin was perfect, and I longed to press my lips against it. I glanced at the tattoo up her arm and over her shoulder, and I licked my bottom lip. She caught my eye as she handed over the T-shirt, and I couldn’t look away quick enough.

 

She said nothing as she resumed her painting. I stood in the middle of the room, holding her clothes, inexplicably nervous to strip off.

 

She faced the wall, and I knew Emilia had locked the door behind me, so I finally changed out of my clothes and slipped hers on as fast as I could. The T-shirt smelled of her, and the joggers were warm and comfy. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Why have I never worn joggers before?

 

I got back to work, and we painted silently for another couple of hours. Harry poured the paint each time I’d needed a refill, as she didn’t have any more spare clothes to give me, and she didn’t want me standing around, pouting like a spoiled teenager if I spilled it again.

 

Another hour later, and she stood with her hands on her hips, frowning as she inspected the wall. She had small splashes of paint on her arms and in the loose wisps of hair framing her face; she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

 

She picked up the plastic tray again, painting along the top of the skirting boards, filling in the gaps she’d missed with the first coat. “A photograph would last longer, pet,” she said.

 

I went a deep maroon and looked at the floor, embarrassed that she’d caught me staring at her. I wiped my hands on the front of the joggers, turning away, but stopped in my tracks as she continued.

 

“You suit those more than your skirts, though.”

 

I couldn’t help it, and I smiled.

 

“But they’d look better on the floor,” she added, shrugging, turning back, and concentrating on the wall.

 

Wait, what? My heart started pounding. I must have misheard her. There’s no way Harry had just propositioned me.

 

I cleared my throat. “What did you say, doll?” I tried to act casual, pretending to search for something to clean the paintbrushes with.

 

“You heard me.”

 

I stopped again. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a response. Any response at all.

 

“No comeback, Madison? That’s not like you.” She stood and admired her work again.

 

I caught sight of her calves, flexed and tanned, and I pictured them resting on my shoulders, her ankles wrapped around my neck. I shook my head. “I w-wouldn’t have thought that you’d—” I trailed off, floundering.

 

“What?” she pressed, making me squirm. She came closer, tilting her head as she waited.

 

I swallowed at the muscles in her upper arms, the line of her collarbone, the texture of her bottom lip as her tongue trailed along it for the briefest of a split-second.

 

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching me. Do you want me to fuck you?” she asked.

 

Her brazen question took the breath out of my lungs, and I couldn’t answer. She was torturing me on purpose.

 

She came closer still, a few inches away, and I stood motionless, the paintbrushes in my hand. My heart was hammering in my chest.

 

Everything happened at once.

 

I dropped the paintbrushes and wrapped my arms around her neck as she came forward, picking me up from the waist and slamming me against the wall. She kissed me hard, her tongue pressing forward, and I groaned, wrapping my legs around her waist. The paint was wet on the wall behind me, but for the first time today, I didn’t care. The feel of her between my legs, her strong arms holding my thighs, the layer of sweat on her skin, everything contributed to the fire that now raged in my core. I was wet already, and she knew it. I knotted her hair in my fists and pulled her closer, her breasts against my own.

 

Without releasing me from the wall, she pulled everything down from my hips and over my buttocks. The joggers reached my knees before her body got in the way and she couldn’t pull them any further, but she didn’t need to.

 

Holding me with one arm, her other hand disappeared between my legs, and she found my slick pussy, ready and waiting for her. She growled, wasting no time as she slipped three fingers inside my entrance, her own breath ragged and erratic.

 

I couldn’t have told you what was going on anywhere else in the world. I was consumed with the feel of her against my mouth, her fingers deep inside me, and her thumb massaging small circles around my clitoris.

 

I broke the kiss and threw my head back. I couldn’t breathe. I squeezed my eyes tight as my stomach tensed, and I gasped, the climax building in my centre. The breeze from the window flowed around my pussy, creating a different sensation and causing more wetness to coat Harry’s slick fingers. She manoeuvred her hand expertly, and I swear I could have stayed there all day; the pleasure she was creating within me was incredible.

 

Why have we never done this before? I thought.

 

I’ve never seen you in my joggers before, she panted.

 

Maybe I should wear your clothes more often?

 

Or maybe you should wear nothing at all more often.

 

I lost concentration.

 

I came hard, screaming, as waves of ecstasy flooded through me, and every nerve ending in my body exploded at the same time.

 

Harry held me steady as I rode the orgasm, my legs wrapped around her waist. I pulled her hair roughly, eliciting a loud groan from her throat. She bit my neck in retaliation, and I hissed, but I couldn’t hide my body’s response. More of my wetness soaked her hand, starting up a second orgasm, and Harry sped up.

 

A little pain, Madison? Why am I not surprised?

 

Don’t get high and mighty on me; you love it too.

 

I never said I didn’t.

 

I grabbed her throat, digging my nails into her skin, and her eyes flashed with fierce arousal. She fucked me faster, her fingers pounding that magical spot inside me, and my pulse raced.

 

I came again within minutes, whimpering and gasping. That second orgasm ripped through me, and every muscle tensed. It was several more minutes before I steadied enough to breathe.

 

She removed her fingers, panting hard. She was an inch from my face as she lifted her finger and traced my bottom lip. My eyes flew open, but I met her gaze as I slowly took her finger into my mouth. The intense arousal on her face as she watched me lick her clean soaked my pussy for a third time.

 

When I finished, she lowered me back to my feet, and I pulled the joggers up. She ran a hand through her hair, breathing deeply, and I leaned against the wall, my legs shaking. I doubled over, trying to catch my breath.

 

I want to fuck you, I thought, breathing hard.

 

You’re not coming anywhere near me with those nails.

 

I looked up and saw the three red scratches on her throat. I won’t apologise. I shrugged.

 

I’m not asking you to, but only Althea gets to fuck me.

 

Harry eyed me carefully, her chest heaving. I knew she was aroused, and I needed to press her harder. She was lying. Emilia had brought her to orgasm just a few weeks ago, but I couldn’t admit I’d seen them. If she wanted the envy to disappear, she needed to let me fuck her.

 

I couldn’t tell her that, but that was the only way I could stop my feelings from spilling over to her. I was envious that Althea and Emilia had made her come, and I needed to force her to climax with me, to stand a chance of controlling myself.

 

I stood my ground. Only Althea’s ever fucked you? I sneered. Are you scared you might enjoy it with someone else more?

 

Her eyes darkened. Don’t you dare—

 

Why, is it the truth? How many women have made you scream? I’m not denying that Althea knows what she’s doing, but she can be soft, no? I shrugged again, turning away.

 

She was getting angry now. I don’t know what you’re referring to, Madison; spit it out.

 

Yes, you do. When was the last time Althea was … less gentle?

 

Harry frowned, watching me closely. I walked around the room towards her, and she started to walk at the same time, keeping her distance. We circled each other like two predators caught in a stand-off, waiting to see who would make the first move.

 

I smirked. Don’t know the answer?

 

She snarled, getting more agitated. Her neck was flushing pink, and I hid a satisfied smile.

 

You should try me, you know. You might like it, I thought.

 

I doubt it.

 

I wouldn’t be so sure. I glanced towards my bag.

 

Harry followed my gaze, and I knew she’d started wondering what I’d brought. She looked back at me. She hadn’t decided yet, but I was getting closer. I intrigued her. Althea’s good at what she does, but she couldn’t satisfy Harry how she needed, and that’s something I could help with. A rush of adrenaline fired through my chest at the thought of it.

 

I stopped pacing, standing next to my bag, and Harry froze. I grinned, daring her to ask.

 

She didn’t. Time to play.

 

“Turn around,” I demanded aloud. I was more than a little surprised when she complied, turning away and facing the wall. Her hands were flexed into fists, her shoulders tight.

 

I grabbed my bag and stood behind her, unclipping her sports bra and sliding the straps over her shoulders. I marvelled again at her smooth skin and took my chance to press my lips against it.

 

She remained still, staring straight ahead, and I smiled. I had her hooked. Anticipation was thrumming through her as she tried to imagine what I had in store.

 

I slid her shorts down, along with her briefs, and she lifted her feet as they reached her ankles. I took another moment to admire her naked body, before kneeling behind her. “Open your legs.”

 

She did as I told her, and I wasted no time in securing the spreader bar around her ankles, ensuring she couldn’t shut them again until I released them.

 

“Kneel.”

 

She dropped forward, her knees and ankles wide on the floor, and I exhaled at the erotic view. I placed a blindfold over her eyes and handcuffed her hands behind her back.

 

“Nothing that Althea hasn’t done before,” she muttered.

 

“Patience. Open your mouth.”

 

She pursed her lips together, and thought, No chance. I’m not daft, pet.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I said—”

 

As soon as she tried to respond aloud, I pulled the leather strap towards me with both hands, the ball gag catching in her mouth. She let out a loud aggravated growl and snapped her head to one side to loosen it, but I tied it behind her head while she struggled. It was my favourite toy, a gorgeous black leather collar with gold buckles. Two thin metal chains dangled from either side, and I wasted no time in attaching the connected clamps to her nipples.

 

I smiled as she instantly stopped trying to argue and instead groaned low in her throat. Her chest heaved, her breath labouring. I knew how wet she’d become.

 

“Better?” I whispered.

 

She nodded, breathing deeply. She couldn’t voice an answer because of the gag in her mouth, but she didn’t respond in my mind, either. I pulled another black leather strap out of my bag and tightened the collar around her neck, tugging the leash. She growled again.

 

I sat back on my heels. She was glorious and at my mercy. She was blind, gagged, and restrained, and I felt the arousal on the inside of my thighs.

 

I lay on my back behind her and manoeuvred under her spread thighs, so she was straddled over my mouth. I felt the spreader bar underneath my back, and I knew my weight on it would give her stability, helping her to stay upright on her knees.

 

I remained still and steady, breathing against her clitoris, and she started to get impatient, her intense arousal pooling in her pussy. I waited longer, teasing and testing her patience.

 

Eventually, I flicked her clit with my tongue at the same time I pushed a vibrating dildo deep inside her. A low guttural groan lingered in her throat, and she almost fell forward, but her strong thighs caught her, holding her up.

 

I pressed against that magical spot inside her, stretching her inner walls. I knew I had her full attention now, submissive and willing to do anything I wanted. Every pleasure point was mine, from her aching nipples to her G spot, to her swollen clit pulsing, as fast as her heart, on the tip of my tongue.

 

I smacked her arse before tugging on the leash again. Sweat ran down her tight abdomen and over the taut skin on her thighs as she fought to hold herself up. I let out an involuntary moan.

 

She couldn’t catch a breath. She was moaning too much, and it wouldn’t take long before an orgasm overwhelmed her. I smacked her arse again.

 

She snarled. Harder!

 

I yanked the leash and reached up with my spare hand, still thrusting inside her. I released a clamp for a few seconds, and I knew that blood would rush back, creating a deeper pleasurable ache in her nipples, causing her pussy to soak again. I reattached the clamp and released the other, and I knew she was close to the edge as she let out another guttural groan.

 

I felt her pussy tighten and her clitoris throbbed on my tongue before she screamed. She rocked her hips furiously against my mouth as her wetness flooded between her thighs, running over my chin and down my throat. I moaned again. This is what I’d needed. And exactly what Harry had needed from the sound of it.

 

She was relentless as she rode the climax, and I kept a steady tempo, pushing the dildo inside her and flicking her clit, nipping it with my teeth between my lips. She struggled for breath, and it was a long time before she slowed.

 

She shuddered to a stop, and I could tell she was close to collapse. I removed myself from underneath her, unclipping the cuffs from her ankles, and she brought her knees together. I unbuckled the leather strap around her mouth, releasing the ball gag, and unclipped the cuffs from behind her back. She fell forward onto her hands, pulling oxygen into her lungs. I removed the clamps from her nipples, and she groaned again, rolling to one side and lying on the floor.

 

She still wore the blindfold and the black leather collar, and I watched her, my eyes taking in the view. I wished she had the energy left to fuck me again, but I knew she was spent.

 

I couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing my lips against hers. She kissed me back, but I knew when I removed the blindfold, this moment would be over.

 

Georgia was right; Pride and Envy are incompatible traits. Me and Harry would never be the best of friends, but if a good hard fucking session could remove the tension, even temporarily, I was OK with that. I knew she’d be back for more.

 

Emilia knew it too when she eventually unlocked the door and caught sight of the scratch marks on Harry’s throat, the teeth marks on my neck, and the paint on the back of Harry’s T-shirt that I still wore.

 

She grinned as we walked past her in silence, heading towards our own floors, but she didn’t say a word.

 

CHECK OUT TJ DALLAS AT THESE LINKS

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Synopsis from Amazon:

 

This erotica follows Lara as she moves to a new city and comes to terms with her desire for another woman; a seductive bartender with a supernatural secret. Lara’s world is turned upside down when her boyfriend cheats on her with her best friend & she’s forced to move to a new city.

 

Desperate for money, she gets a job in an LGBT nightclub, but her racing heart & inappropriate thoughts about the club’s owner, Harry, must have everything to do with the stress she’s under. She’s not gay. There’s something about Harry. She’s stunning, cocky, & looks far too good in a shirt and tie – ignoring the fact she’s telepathic & can read Lara’s emotions like a book.

 

Harry is one of seven managers at the Cardinal, & she has a set of skills that can help Lara, but she has to manage her own feelings about three of the other managers in the meantime—Lust, Gluttony, & Envy. When things go downhill for Lara, can Harry make her proud of who she is, without admitting their deadly secret? **18+, mature content, 1xbriefM/F

3,693 Responses

  1. Let’s give my author friend some love! Tell her what you loved about the excerpt!
    *
    Mistress Black Rose

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