Ravage by Elizabeth Carter Page A

few pickup lines for one of them to find their way into my divine virgin pussy.
    I slid a beer in front of a guy with mustard on his tie. I wondered if he knew what a state he looked. It seemed as if style went out the window when people flew.
    “There we go,” I said sliding a napkin beneath it. His eyebrows arched as he slid his finger up the glass catching some of the head that had spilled over.
    “So when do you get off work?”
    I tried to look busy but I could see his reflection gawking at me in the bar mirror. I was due to take my break, but I wasn’t going tell him that. He needed a shower, a face-lift and a major fashion overhaul before I would have given him a second look. Instead I turned giving him a cute smile, “Oh not for hours, I just started my shift,”
    “Shame,” he took his drink and walked off. I chuckled to myself. Those were the easy ones. Most didn’t let up. Being propositioned was common. After working in four bars, I’d learned to navigate the pushy ones from those who just wanted someone to talk to. I couldn’t help wonder what was going through their minds? Did they really all think I was going to take them out back and let them fuck me over the counter, one after the other? I ran my fingers over my lips contemplating what that would be like. I shook my head. It’s not I wouldn’t have minded a hard cock in the backroom or even having two men taking turns, I’d entertained that thought countless times, but… I’d always imagined my first time being something more, something a little bit classier, even if it did mean being tied up all night long. Tied up? An image of finding my brother’s porno magazines under his mattress reignited my senses. It had been the first time I’d seen a women hog-tied and the first time I’d seen cock. . I remembered how wet my panties became as I flipped through the pages. Finding those magazines opened my eyes to the possibilities. It had awakened a deep desire inside, a need to have a man touch and experience every part of me.
    I sighed, casting a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no glasses were empty. I knew that at nineteen, I was one of the few who still hadn’t had sex. Nineteen years was a long time to have gone without sex, but it wasn’t by choice. It was no thanks to my parents who had raised me to be a staunch catholic. After leaving home at eighteen, I couldn’t wait to let go of all the rules and regulations and figure out who I was for myself. It’s not that I minded rules, but if I had to abide by any, they had better be ones that made me feel alive.
    “Mam,” a deep, husky voice behind me snapped me back to the present moment.
    “Be right there,” I continued cleaning up the mess of a third drink that I had spilled that night. The water dripped off the edge onto my black skirt, and I searched for anything dry to wipe it off.
    “Mam,”
    “I said I would be right there.” I spun around and froze on the spot at the sight of a gorgeous tall, broad shouldered man. He had a defined jawline, a perfect five o’clock shadow and deep brown eyes that you could get lost in for days. His hair was tidy, stylish but masculine in every way. The kind you could run your fingers through. It took me a few seconds to register that I was staring, and a few seconds longer to pick my jaw up off the floor.
    “Thought this might help,” he held out a handful of napkins.
    “Right. Um. Thanks.” I took them and began wiping myself down. I was intently aware that he was watching. I lifted my eyes for a brief moment and flashed him an awkward smile.
    “Here’s some more,” He leaned over the counter, and without even given a thought to the fact that I was bending down and probably giving the entire room a clear shot of my C-cup breasts, I reached for them and felt his fingers brush the back of my hand. There was something different to him. Despite the obvious that he was drop dead gorgeous, he wasn’t magnetically focused in on my