She nods. Her arms encircle my neck, those eyes locked on mine. It could be a trick of the light, but she looks truly happy. Maybe she’s one of those people who really, really like sex. Whatever the reason, I’m honored to be the one to make her feel good—in multiple ways.
Soft lips tug at mine, her tongue flitting across my bottom lip. She sucks me between her teeth while her hands trail to my shoulders. The heat radiating from her warm center is so inviting.
My tongue plunges into her mouth, a growl escaping my lips. I should be gentle with her, but I don’t want to. I want to consume her until I’m completely intoxicated, neither of us able to walk.
Her legs wrap around my waist, her hips thrusting her soft wetness against me. Fingers from one hand pluck at my nipples, while her other hand wraps around me.
In just a few seconds, I’m going to throw back the bars of the cage. "One more time," I growl into her mouth. "Do you really want this?"
She rubs the head of me against her slit in response.
Her slick wetness makes me come completely undone. In one motion, I twist our bodies until she’s flat on her back. Her legs wrap around me, and I lower myself until I’m throbbing at her entrance. Olivia gives me a final nod, and I slide in.
Her warmth envelopes me, and I almost come halfway through my first thrust. "I’m not going to last long," I choke out.
"Shh," she soothes into my ear. "It’s okay. Just give me all you’ve got, baby." Her arms lock around my neck and she clings to me with her whole body. I sheath myself in her, embedded deep inside.
Slowly, I slide out, until just the tip of me is in her. I caress the side of her breast and each rib with my fingers as I make my way down to her. I want this to be just as good for her as it is for me.
Stroking her with my fingers, I plunge into her again with slow precision. With each thrust, I get more into a rhythm, two knuckles grinding against her. She shivers underneath me, tiny moans tumbling from her lips. Hard nipples rub against my chest, a complete parallel to her soft breasts pressed to my pecs. Our hearts pound against each other, blood boiling, edging us closer and closer.
My cock surges, the fire of the orgasm blowing through me.
"Fuck," I growl into her ear. "No."
She gasps, shouting out. "Just fuck me," she pants, and I do. I plow into her, rubbing her, begging her. This will all be for nothing if I can’t take her with me.
Olivia arches into me, her back coming straight off the floor. A moan ripples through the station wagon, her nails raking down my back. "Yes, baby, yes," she breathes as she shivers against me.
The last twenty years rush out of me, pulsing into her. I feel her tighten and expand around me, driving us both into the abyss.
It’s the best I’ve ever had.
I collapse, rolling to the side so I don’t crush her. A stream of hot liquid gushes down my thigh. Resting on my back, I stare at the ceiling, my breath ragged. Beside me, she exhales and turns onto her side.
"Wow," she says, grinning. "Thank you." She dips her chin. Our eyes meet for a second, then she reaches into the front seat for her cigarettes. The flash of bare skin exposes a twin stream running down her leg.
My heart just about stops.
"Fuck," I say, scrambling to sit up. "We need to get to a store. We didn’t—I mean, I didn’t—"
She glances over her shoulder. Now she really does look amused. "Relax," she says, handing me a cigarette. "I’m on the pill."
I fall back, relief rushing through me. I smoke in silence, and decide I’ve had enough thrills in one night to last me a lifetime. From here on out, I’m keeping my head down and playing it straight.
This can never, ever happen again.
6
Olivia
I want to shout to the world that I just had the most mindblowing sex in the back of a broken-into station wagon. Every inch of me tingles, my entire body vibrating with electric current. But Cliff and I just walk back to the bar, smoking cigarettes without speaking. It seems like we’re both on the same page, because he doesn’t mumble any lies about going out to dinner or anything. By the time we get back, the tequila is wearing off and I need another drink to celebrate.
Bursting inside, I wave to Lucy and march up to the bar. Our elderly friend is still back there, drying off clean glasses. It’s got to be like midnight, so it’s unbelievable that she’s somehow still awake.
Since I’ve already had four tequila shots, I think it’s best to just continue with my friend Jose. "Tequila Sunrise, please," I say, leaning on the counter.
Someone pinches my arm.
Lucy stands next to me, glaring. "Where the fuck have you been?" she hisses in a low, dangerous voice.
I lift an eyebrow at her. "Getting cigarettes. What’s the problem?"
"The problem," she says, waving her phone in the air, "is that we missed our train."
I start to argue with her, to tell her that what she’s saying is ridiculous. Then the phone slows enough that I can read the time. My mouth falls open.
"Yeah." She crosses her arms. "So you wanna try again?"
Cliff slides onto a bar stool on the other side of Lucy. "What’s going on?"
My sister spins around on him so fast, I see stars. "I told you two that we couldn’t miss this train! There isn’t another one ’til the morning. Do you want to spend the night sleeping at the train station?"
He rubs at his face. "Aw, Luce, I’m so sorry. I think the tequila disagreed with me. I needed some air, and then Olivia said she was going to the gas station. I walked with her, but I got sick on the way. She was trying to protect my manhood."
I nearly choke on my drink. Sugary sweet liquid trickles down my shirt. Putting the drink down, I dab it up with a cocktail napkin before Lucy sees.
My sister deflates. Somehow, she has this super soft spot for Cliff. He could tell her the world is flat and she’d believe him. I’m even more curious than ever now.
Lucy hops up onto a bar stool, then gives Cliff a one-armed hug. "Lightweight," she says. She orders a soda, and Cliff throws me a wink when she’s not looking.
I exhale and try to enjoy my drink. The danger has passed. Lucy won’t find out, and Cliff and I will go our separate ways. It’s the best possible outcome for a one-night stand—my absolute favorite ending to a beautiful fairytale.
I lift my glass toward him in a salute, and drain it.
The next train to New Haven isn’t until seven in the morning. We close out the bar, granny still wide awake. Then we take an Uber to the Harrisburg train station. Since it’s an hour long ride, I rest my head against the window of the back seat and try to fall asleep. Cliff sits between us, with Lucy on his other side. It’s how we’ve been taking Ubers late at night. I know Lucy won’t sleep, because she doesn’t trust anyone. But I trust Cliff. We finally have a bond, and since we’ve swapped DNA, we might as well be family.
A giggle bursts from my nostrils. I glance at the others, but none of them even notice that I’m still drunk. Snuggling up into the most comfortable position possible, I close my eyes and say goodbye to Lewisburg. It’s been real.
When I wake up, we’re just pulling into the parking lot. I still really think Lucy would’ve saved money had we just driven down here, but instead of pointing that out, I touch ground and stretch my stiff legs. Cliff jumps out behind me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.
"We still smoking buddies?" he asks in a low voice.
"Of course." I hand him my pack and lighter. This time he lights two and hands me one. "What a gentleman." I wink.
He winks back.
I smoke, trying to slow my thundering heart. I’m too tired to start analyzing what that wink means or why I’m still reacting so strongly to him. My body should be satisfied, still swimming in sweet memories. It may have been short, but that was still the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Peeking at him out of the corner of an eye, I wonder whether I’d ever really done it right before. Maybe it’s because he was an excepti
onally attentive lover. Most of them aren’t.
All these thoughts just make me want to find another car to break into. Shaking them off, I toss the rest of my cigarette and follow Lucy inside. It’s time to enforce that no-clinging rule for myself.
During our overnight stay in the train station lobby, I make sure I look at him as little as possible. I don’t stop sharing my cigarettes, because that’s cruel and unusual in the smoking circle, but I do stop talking to him. Even though we sit next to each other on the train with Lucy across the aisle, I keep to myself. I ignore the heat radiating from him and those smoldering eyes, burying our night where it belongs.
In the past.
The next day is for recovery. Lucy drops me off at my apartment, and I don’t waste any time with sappy goodbyes. I’ll talk to Lucy in a couple days or so, and I’ll see Cliff at the next family reunion. Easing inside, I pull my luggage behind me, then close the door quickly. A tiny meow alerts me to Dio’s position. The orange tabby kitten comes hurtling at me, the bell on his collar jingling. I let go of my suitcase and scoop him up, nuzzling him against my face.
"Hi buddy," I croon. "I missed you."
He wriggles in my hand and meows again sternly.
"I know, baby. I’m sorry I left you." Carrying him with me, I head into the kitchenette. It isn’t far. Our place may be laid out like an apartment, but I’ve seen bigger motel rooms. Dio’s probably still too little for kitty treats, so I’ve been spoiling him with something I think he likes even more.
I open the refrigerator and retrieve the container of grated cheese. Tapping out a teeny bit into my hand, I carry Dio to the counter. Then I put him down and he makes a beeline toward my fingers. His sandpaper tongue brushes against my skin as he laps up every last round white crumb. Before my roommate can see him on the counter, I place him back down on the floor.
He’s the only male I’ll ever commit to.
"Our little secret, right bud?" I leave him in the kitchen and go to put my things away. Esther is apparently at class, so once I’m unpacked, I snuggle up with Dio in my bed and turn on a Netflix movie that I promptly fall asleep to.
Even though I take such a late nap, I go to bed pretty early, too. When I wake up in the morning, I feel refreshed for the first time in the past week. Booze, good sex, and a full night of sleep will do that for a girl. I hang out ’til it’s time to dress for work, give Dio one last chin scratch, then get going.
Most of the undergrad students I know at Southern have jobs on campus, or relatively close. Not me. I stopped living on campus last year when I found an even better job right in the city I grew up in.
I catch the bus and take it downtown, then walk down a couple streets. Though it’s in a questionable area, I’ve never felt unsafe. I carry a knife and mace in my bag, and I’ve always been great at screaming "Fire!" Anyone who tries to hurt me will be very, very sorry. I’d rather die fighting than do nothing.
A squat, wide man at the door gives me a nod. I smile back in greeting, then continue my trek to the back. The place is empty at this hour, but some of the girls are hanging out and practicing. I say hi to a few on my way to Mark’s office.
Pausing in front of his half open door, I smooth my hair. Mark is that boss who always hits on everyone. He’s harmless so I never dwell on it. Besides, I’m not his type. He prefers blondes. Still, I want to be extra sweet to him because he was pretty cool about me taking off for a week. He’s always been good to me.
I push the door open, but my knees turn into water.
A man with a broad set of shoulders stands with his back to me. I’d recognize that physique anywhere. After all, two nights ago I was skin to skin with him in the back of a station wagon on a dark street. I’m intimately familiar with the muscles of that back, their hardness beneath my fingers.
I stand frozen and speechless until Mark notices me in the doorway.
"Hey kiddo," he says, gesturing me inside. He turns to Cliff. "This is Olivia, one of my girls. Olivia, Cliff is our new bouncer."
Cliff turns slowly in my direction. Those thick lips part, his eyes widening. I think of them locked on mine as he drove in and out of me. I feel myself clench, hot and wet, as I remember how hard and thick he was. The breath in my lungs whooshes out.
Bouncer.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I look back and forth from Mark to Cliff, trying to decide whether this is all some big joke. Maybe they know each other from high school or something, and thought this would be funny. But neither of them look amused. Mark is completely oblivious, because he’s a man in his mid-forties. Cliff looks like someone just kicked him in the nuts.
Recovering, I hold out my hand. "Bouncer, huh? It’s nice to meet you."
His hand grasps mine. Brown eyes funnel into mine, holding me, mesmerizing. "Dancer, huh?" His words are strangled.
I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing. Our hands remain clasped, and I squeeze his fingers. "That wouldn’t break our agreement, would it?" I keep my eyes wide and run my tongue along my lower lip.
Cliff swallows, but doesn’t drop my gaze. "It definitely makes things a little harder," he says with a straight face.
Coughing, I release his hand. I turn, reaching for a tissue from Mark’s desk. I pretend to blow my nose, then straighten. It’d serve him right if I keep messing with him, but he’s going to find out within the next half hour, anyway. "Come on, I’ll show you my work station."
His expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Kinda like a mix between fear and desire, like he can’t wait to see me on the pole and then take me in my dressing room, but feels guilty about it.
I lead him to the bar.
"Cold water?" I ask, tossing him a bottle. I lean on the counter and watch as he twists it open and gulps half the thing down in one shot. Beads of sweat stand out at his hairline.
He shakes his head. "You enjoy this way too much."
"But you make it so easy." I chuckle and grab myself a bottle of water. In the past week, I’ve made him turn a certain shade of pale at least three times. Not always on purpose, though. I couldn’t have planned this one if I’d tried. And it definitely throws a wrench in my love 'em and leave 'em routine.
Cliff sits down and runs a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, Olivia." He shakes his head again. "You couldn’t have given me a heads up?"
"Why?" My eyebrows scrunch together. "How the hell was I supposed to know you got a job here?"
He scrubs at his face with his hands. "Luce didn’t say you work at a fucking strip club."
"That’s because Luce doesn’t know." I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him.
Making a frustrated sound, he downs the rest of his water. He leans forward. "What else are we keeping from her?"
"We won’t tell her about the baby, either." I watch him, unblinking, as my words sink in.
But he chucks the empty bottle at me. It bounces off my shoulder. "Be serious, Olivia." He points a finger at me. "This isn’t going to work."
I hiss out an exasperated breath through my teeth. "So, what, you think I’m just gonna walk away from my job? Fuck that, and fuck you." I don’t remind him that I was here first, because this isn’t high school. But I am concerned. Usually my nighters are guys I’m positive I’ll never run into again, or only occasionally. No one from classes, for example, but upperclassmen I run into in the student center are fair game.
Groaning, Cliff places both hands flat on the bar. "Here’s how this is gonna go, then." He stands up and leans toward me, towering over me. "You stay in your corner, I’ll stay in mine. Lucy doesn’t find out. We don’t talk." He pats the pocket of his coat. The outline of a pack of cigarettes shows through. "Cool?" His eyes are nearly black.
"Sure," I tell him. I turn away, busying myself with getting things ready for the night. It’s a ladies’ wristband special evening, so I make sure all the bottom shelf liquors are in the right place. Some of the girls who work he
re know jack shit about booze hierarchy. When I turn around a minute later, he’s already gone. I frown. I don’t like how I’m feeling.
Like I’ve been written off.
It’s unfair, considering I didn’t want anything more to do with him. But I hate how easily he can set the rules all the same. Maybe it’s because usually they’re my rules. Which is pretty ridiculous, considering we’re on the same page. I should be celebrating, but instead my eyes dart back to Mark’s office, where Cliff is bullshitting with him. Both of them laugh, and Mark glances my way.
"What the fuck?" I mutter. I’m about to stalk over there when music blares over the sound system, Theory of a Deadman’s "Bad Girlfriend." Scowling, I shoot a look at the girl on the stage. It’s a terrible song, and dancing to it is a complete cliche. It doesn’t matter what I think, though, because this place brings in a lot of money. The customers tip well, even if they’re all bikers with hungry eyes.
The Wet Mermaid belongs to the River Reapers and serves as their club house. I suppose that makes me a house mouse, even though I don’t usually sleep with any of them. Every once in a while a nomad or someone from another chapter will stay for a bit, and we’ll have a little fun before he leaves. But I’ve never been a back warmer and I’m relatively unassociated.
I just work here.
The frown continues to crease the skin between my eyebrows. I can’t believe any P.O. would hook an ex-con up with a job in a known M/C club house. The River Reapers aren’t really outlaws, but it’s still like pairing up Chuckie the killer doll with Chuckie Finster from Rugrats. I still don’t know what crime Cliff committed. The M/C sells baby drugs like weed and pills, which is much more profitable than bouncing and all too tempting for someone who’s been in the system.
At least, I’d think so. But I’m just a peon working on her undergrad, studying social work—not a P.O. Still, it bugs me.
Biting my lip, I decide I have to go to Lucy. Cliff just can’t get involved with these guys, not if he wants a fresh start.
A Disturbing Prospect (River Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 1) Page 6
