Break So Soft (Break So Soft Duet Book 2)

by Stasia Black

  Red’s only got eyes for Lydia, though, her crop top covered chest heaving hard. She grins at my friend and then dips her head, hand held out.

  A challenge.

  Lydia’s grin deepens further than I swear I’ve ever seen it. She steps forward into the small, empty circle as the redhead retreats into the crowd.

  Lydia starts dancing and absolutely kills it with some crazy-ass moves. She’s wearing combat boots but fuck me if she doesn’t go up on the toe of the damn things and do a fuckin’ pirouette like she’s a prima ballerina.

  Then she drops down into the splits. Oh, damn! My inner thighs hurt just looking at her! Good thing she opted for sparkly leggings underneath her oversized T-shirt dress. She’s got that crazy-ass giant grin on her face as she somehow slides up from the splits and keeps on dancing.

  The small crowd around us bursts into applause when she finishes. The redhead looks similarly impressed. And if I don’t miss my mark, Red also looks completely turned on. I smile as the crowd melts together again and everyone starts dancing.

  Lydia approaches Red and they begin talking. Good for Lydia. Maybe tonight’s the night she’ll meet the great love of her life after all. Or at least get a fabulous hook up out of it. Red looks just as athletic as Lydia.

  I laugh to myself as I move away to give them space to get to know each other. The DJ transitions into an upbeat dance track and my body starts to move with the beat. I don’t make the mistake of closing my eyes like last night. No, I’m ever aware of all the people dancing around me. If I see any guys eyeing me who look like the kind to approach uninvited, I flash them Angry Bitch Face, which pretty quickly switches off the light of interest.

  And really, it’s not that bad, not in an uptown crowd like this. I watch others lose themselves in the way I wish I could. Sweat-slicked bodies grind against one another. Just to the left of me, a dark-haired man holds a woman to him, her back to his chest, his one hand slung around to caress her bare stomach while he grinds into her from behind. She’s totally into it. This is not an unwelcome position to her like it would be for me. Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth open, arm lifted and hand buried in his hair as she slithers back and forth against him.

  My mouth dries just watching them. They’re all but fucking, right here on the dance floor. I turn away from them but everywhere I look, couples dance in similar positions. Knees nudged between thighs. Hands on asses. Bodies hunting for friction. And below it all, the music—a sensual, rasping vocal over a deep bass that rings through every speaker and up through the floor.

  My panties get slicker with each passing moment. I glance behind me. I can’t see Lydia or Red. My head swings back around and before I even realize what I’m doing, my gaze searches out men who aren’t coupled up yet. The ones who don’t look like douche bags or overly aggressive assholes.

  Immediately, I see a couple potentials.

  That slim blond guy who’s laughing while he dances with some friends. All his friends are paired up, but he’s alone. Then, a little bit further out toward the fringes of the crowd is a dark-haired guy who’s a really bad dancer. He keeps bopping his shoulders slightly after the beat. He looks awkward as hell, but in the occasional flashes of light from below, I think I can make out that he’s good looking. I’d have to get closer to really tell.

  I glance back and forth between him and the blond guy. Hmm, blond guy seems good-natured and he’s with friends so that means he’s not too creepy. But dark-haired guy seems nervous and awkward, and that’s always endearing as hell. I could be his equivalent of a knight in shining armor. Or, you know, chick in a tight mini-dress who’ll give him a hot fuck in the dark corner of a club. Po-tate-o Po-tah-to.

  I start to head toward the dark-haired guy when my step falters.

  Wait. What the fuck am I doing? Tonight’s not supposed to be about this. At all. Remember last night? How quick that went from zero to super fucked up?

  I stand in suspended animation, wracked with indecision. Tonight is supposed to be low key. Fun. Just hanging with friends. No stress. Just spending time with Lydia and Bonnie. Maybe I get a little plastered. Laugh my ass off. Share an Uber on the way home.

  My chest vibrates. What the—?

  Oh. Right. My phone.

  I pull it out of my bra and see a text from Lydia.

  LYDIA: Hitting things off with Shayna. You mind heading home solo?

  Wow, that was fast. Lydia’s usually pretty cautious about who she lets into her life. At the same time, just the other day she was telling me how sex-starved she was, so maybe she just really needs that itch scratched tonight.

  ME TO LYDIA: No probs. Have a blast and be safe, gorgeous.

  LYDIA: You too xx

  I smile and shake my head at the phone, then drop it back in my bra. Even before I’ve really decided what to do next, my eyes start searching out Mr. Adorably Awkward.

  But dammit—I frown and crane my neck—he’s not there anymore. I mean, not that I was definitely going to go try something with him. That’s not what I was about. Really. It wasn’t. But now that Lydia’s got a hook up and Bonnie is with Jamaal, well…

  I stretch my neck, trying to peer over people’s heads to see if I can find him again. I work my way through the crowd, halfway dancing to the music so I don’t look super weird. But when I get to the spot that I’m sure Adorable was standing in, there’s no dark hair. No cute awkward body bopping slightly offbeat.

  I deflate a little.

  It wasn’t like I was married to the idea or anything.

  I dance for a few minutes, halfheartedly.

  My mind keeps spinning thoughts. It’s just, maybe getting with guys is my way of letting off some steam. And there’s nothing really wrong with it. It’s a Friday night. I’m single. I have a stressful life. People hook up all the time. Even Lydia. So what?

  And okay, so maybe Lydia doesn’t like, get off on doing it in public, but people have all kinds of, you know, things they like with sex. So what if that’s my thing?

  It’s fuckin’ hot. Lots of people think so. And sure, maybe last night got out of hand. But I can keep that from happening again. I’m the one in control. Nothing bad would’ve really happened with the knife. A girl has to protect herself. It was all fine.

  I shake my head and focus on the music. The moment. Enough with the internal debate. I look hot tonight. The music is hot. I’m at a hip as hell club. I want what I want and there are plenty of guys here tonight who are up for the same thing. I scan the crowd again. I’m further away from the other guy I scoped out, the blond one, but I think I can just barely make out his group from here. I start heading in that direction.

  When I get closer, I happily note that the guy I first spotted is still dancing alone. I note that his hair is slightly reddish as I get closer. It’s a night for redheads, apparently.

  A slight dusting of freckles dot his nose and cheeks. Sweet. His eyes are closed as he dances. He has much better rhythm than Mr. Awkward. He’s not trying any crazy dance moves but has a decent back and forth shuffle/shoulder roll thing going on. I move into the space in front of him and start to dance.

  I don’t put my hand on him or anything. I’m not a hypocrite. I won’t touch or invade his space until I’m invited.

  He keeps his eyes closed though, and I can’t help the smile breaking out on my face. He’s totally lost in his own world as he dances, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow that produces little curls at the front of his hairline and the base of his scalp.

  When he finally opens his eyes, he jerks back in surprise when he sees me there. I laugh and then cover my mouth with one of my hands.

  “Sorry!” I shout over the noise. “You just looked really into the music.”

  He quickly recovers and flashes me a bright, white-toothed smile. Damn, good orthodontia gets me every time.

  He holds out a hand. The angle he does it makes me think of a handshake, but I give my hand over anyway. His nice smile gets even wider and we start to d
ance. After a few moments, he uses the hand he’s holding to spin me, then roll me back into his chest. It’s like a salsa dance move or something, but I gotta say, crazy impressive. He just positioned me, applied force, and there I went, twirling and spinning.

  Oh yeah, Blond Dancer is definitely the best choice for the evening. I’m all smiles as we keep it up for several more songs. It’s rare that I actually want to stay on the dance floor with a guy for longer than a single number.

  I’m usually all about getting down to brass tacks. Well, for the whole month that I’ve been at this. I have needs. A guy can fill them. Ensue mutually beneficial exchange.

  Speaking of, this has been nice and all, but I’m not big on foreplay. I take a quick glance around. VIP or not, the crush of bodies is at a good enough density to be inconspicuous. I lean up and into Blond Dancer’s chest, sling one arm around the back of his neck and push into his body. It’ll look to anyone watching like we’re just dancing intimately.

  I lean in. “How we doing, big boy?” No one should notice my hand traveling down his chest to the front of his slacks.

  I’m not disappointed. It’s only a semi and I have to follow him when he jerks back in surprise. But he quickly perks up to full mast in my hand. The bold junk-grab rarely fails.

  I move my body with his and look up into his eyes, eyebrow arched. Who the hell is this femme fatale inhabiting my body at the moment? I don’t know, and I don’t question it. It feels fucking amazing.

  His pupils dilate and his hand on my hip grips harder almost reflexively. Oh yeah, he’s into this. I stroke him a couple times through his slacks so he really gets the gist.

  Then I turn on my heel and start walking through the crowd of dancers toward the stairs. When I look over my shoulder, he’s still just standing there with a kind of dazed expression on his face. I give a slight huff and crook my finger so he gets that he’s supposed to follow me.

  A slow, lazy kind of smile comes over his face and then he’s quickly at my side, a hand possessively on my hip. I brush it off but grab the front of his shirt so he knows it’s not a rejection.

  I lead him down the stairs. The VIP floor might be a little more upscale and all that, but I’m looking to get lost in a much larger crowd. The darkest of the dark little forgotten corners. The constant light show is briefly blinding once I get to the bottom of the stairs, but I can already see an area that’ll be perfect. The neon lasers project from the central DJ platform down and outward toward the middle of the club. There’s an area off to the back right that barely gets any light at all.

  I’m not really bothering with the polite dance-my-way-through-the-crowd thing this time. I make a beeline in the direction of the dark corner. I’m in heels, but Blond Dancer is the one struggling to keep up. Sheesh, I’d think he’d be more motivated by the promise of a hot piece of ass. If he doesn’t think a little hustle is worth it, I’m sure there are plenty of other candidates out there who would.

  My brief irritation fades when we get to the corner of the club and I realize the space isn’t just a tiny alcove, but a whole room. In fact, there are little rooms all over the place between the dimly-lit columns back here.

  I look around and grin. Damn, this place is my new favorite spot. They know what a club is really for.

  I grab Blond Dancer’s forearm and drag him to an unoccupied couch in one of the small side rooms. In seconds, I’ve got him down and I’m straddling him, rubbing back and forth. The thin pieces of fabric of my thong and his slacks provide excellent friction for me. I want to throw back my head and revel in my arousal—

  But no, there are still too many unknowns about the situation.

  Instead, I ride him and look down in satisfaction at the man beneath me. Completely at my mercy. They shoot pornos from this angle but it’s always the dude holding the camera. I get the appeal now, though. Being on top and mastering another person.

  Dancer Boy reaches around and tries to get a hand on my ass but I swat him away before he makes contact. My eyes adjusted to the dark a while ago and I can see his startled expression. I don’t bother hiding my glare, but at the same time I dip down and kiss him hard. I don’t care if he feels like these are mixed signals. They really aren’t.

  I’m in control here. Why is this difficult for them to understand? His hands can only go where I put them.

  The kissing is nice—he’s even good at it. His tongue stays pretty much put. He’s not trying to shove it down my throat. He lets me guide the kiss. Good. He’s learning. I feel like he deserves a reward.

  Again, my hands snake down the front of his chest. Past his abs. He’s not overly built, but his stomach doesn’t have a paunch either. I can definitely work with this. I grab his cock and give it a good stroke through his pants.

  He’s rock hard and bigger than before. I give him a wicked grin. Oh yeah. He definitely knows where this is going and he’s on board. I also like the non-verbal thing we’ve got going on. Compliant and non-talkative. He’s turning into my perfect gentleman.

  I kiss him deep again while stroking him. It’s dark in the room and the couple making out in the corner up against the wall is too busy to bother noticing us.

  I’ve got a condom in my bra—never leave home without ‘em is my new motto. A girl’s gotta be prepared. Now I just need to figure out how to smoothly grab it and get his pants down far enough so that I can—

  “That’s enough.”

  The deep voice doesn’t shout, but it’s so loud in my ear and completely unexpected that I fall off of Dancer Guy’s lap.

  Strong hands catch me. Hands on me. Some big fuck of a stranger has his hands on me.

  “Let go of me! Get the fuck off of me!” I yank out of his grasp and stumble backward.

  My hand immediately goes for the knife at my thigh garter belt but fuck, I’m not packing because tonight was just supposed to be a girls’ night.

  And here I am in a dark corner where no one will hear me scream over the music with this giant towering over me. I look frantically to the couch for Dancer Guy but the fucking bastard took off as soon as we were interrupted. Gentleman my ass.

  My gaze shoots back to the giant and I shift my weight to the balls of my feet, hands forming into fists. Run. Don’t fight. Lydia’s instructions from self-defense class ring through my head, but the fucker’s blocking the exit of the little room.

  My blood pounds in my ears and I open my mouth to shout FIRE at the top of my lungs but the giant holds up his hands and takes a step back. In an extra bright flash of the laser lights, the side of his face is lit up.

  Holy shit.

  It’s my ex. Jackson Vale.

  Chapter Three

  JACKSON

  I see the moment she recognizes me, the surprise, the shock.

  “Wha—” she starts to ask but I cut her off.

  “I’ll be the one asking the questions here.”

  Fuck but she’s beautiful. So beautiful. She always laid me out. Shaped like Venus and smart, too. The only woman I ever met who wasn’t interested in me for my money or what I could do for them career-wise.

  She never wanted anything from me except me.

  Until she didn’t anymore.

  And that would be fine. Okay that’s a fucking lie. I barely had a taste of her but I’m not sure I could ever get over Calliope Cruise. But I don’t think it was just that she fell out of interest in me.

  He did something. Bryce Gentry. I don’t know what, and I don’t know how, but he did something to her that set her spiraling. Matthews did his research on her before I ever approached her at that Korean café months ago. Single mom. Before working for Gentry she worked long hours at a bar. She didn’t have a car so more often than not, she slept on a worn out couch in the back office. Matthews interviewed one of her fellow waitresses. She never had boyfriends, never slept around.

  No, this out of control behavior is new.

  Like she can see what I’m thinking, Callie’s eyes flick back to the couch where that ba
stard had his hands all over her and her cheeks flame.

  “What the hell are you doing, Callie?” I step close because I can’t help myself and her eyes drop briefly closed. At first I think it’s in shame but then her nostrils flare. Like my nearness is affecting her as much as hers is me.

  Because she is. Even though I only briefly touched her earlier to pull her away from that fucker, Jesus, touching her. Her skin. Her scent. She’s imprinted so deep I don’t think I’m ever getting her out.

  Which makes me even more pissed about what she’s been doing.

  “So?” I demand.

  Her face hardens and I can see her stubborn coming out. “Are you stalking me?”

  I wouldn’t call looking out for her safety stalking but she takes my silence as confirmation.

  “You are, aren’t you?” She just stares at me, open-mouthed for a moment.

  But she finds her voice quick enough. “You fucking stalker!” She shoves me in the center of my chest. Not just a small shove either. It’s like she uses all her momentum and aims it just right, so even though she’s tiny and I’m over six-foot-four, she knocks me off balance so I’m forced to stumble backwards.

  She stomps past me.

  “Calliope, stop,” I call after her. She is not going to just leave now. Not when we’re finally having this long overdue conversation.

  But she just scoffs and gives me the finger over her shoulder.

  I’ve never wanted to take her over my knee more. Or grab her up in my arms and never let her go. I can’t decide which.

  I follow her either way but I don’t make the mistake of grabbing her.

  “Callie, you need to talk to me.” I catch up to her, my long legs easily covering the distance. It helps that she can barely stay upright in those heels. They might make her legs look fucking fantastic but luckily for me, they aren’t ideal for a quick exit.

  “I’m not talking to a fucking stalker,” she says, eyes on the exit.