Better When It Hurts

by Skye Warren

“Are you?” He kisses a line along my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure?”

  “You could check,” I say, already breathless. This is how he starts—and he doesn’t stop, not until he’s kissed every inch of me. There’s a place between my legs, pulsing, desperate for his mouth.

  “I think I should,” he says with complete seriousness. “I wouldn’t want anyone to accuse me of slacking on the job.”

  I roll my hips forward, pressing myself against the outline of his cock. “There’s nothing slack here,” I whisper.

  He groans. “Fuck, you can’t. I’ll never make it upstairs.”

  Teasing a man with an erection is really the best thing. At least, it’s the best thing now that I have one man, this man, to do it with. I’m done stripping. I’m not sure where I’m going next, but I know Blue is going to be by my side.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  He makes a strangled sound. “God, baby. That’s not helping me cool down.”

  I laugh, a little watery.

  His hands wrap around my face, thumbs brushing away my tears. “I hated you once. And needed you. And I almost died from not having you.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I feel all of those things. They don’t go away; they just add up until I can’t think of anything else. I don’t want to think of anything else. Lola. Hannah. You’re both of them. You’re fucking everything.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and it’s a close thing that I don’t let out a sob right there on the sidewalk. He makes a rough sound and pulls me through the lobby. Only when the elevator doors close us in does he back me up against them. Only when the tears are flowing freely and his cock is hard as iron against me does he whisper, “I love you. Love you, love you.”

  He hitches my legs around him, and I cling to him as he lifts me up. His cock is hot and hard against my clit, pushing and pushing and pushing in a rhythm just like fucking, so steady that even with our clothes between us I’m almost coming.

  “Yes, baby,” he murmurs against my neck. “Come and gush on me. I want to see you fucking wet through your panties. I want to lick them like that.”

  I shudder and rock my hips against him, but it’s hard to move. He’s thrusting against me so hard, almost fucking me into the steel doors. He’d be so deep inside me if we didn’t have clothes on. Instead I feel him throbbing and insistent, the pressure hard enough to hurt.

  We move faster and faster, our panting the only sounds in the elevator.

  It happens all at once. He bites down on the space where my neck meets my shoulder, the sting sharp enough to make me gasp. A ding sounds as the elevator arrives at our floor. Then I’m coming, shaking, shattering around him. The doors slide open behind me, and he holds me tight, my legs still wrapped around him as he carries me down the hall and brings me home.

  * * *

  “Told you this would happen,” Candy says.

  Her legs swing from her perch on the stage. It adds to her innocent image, along with her blonde ponytails and off-the-shoulder Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt. Of course her thigh-high lace patterned stockings and panty set give her the sexy edge that makes men salivate. For now the club is closed, the lights a little brighter on the brass fixtures and damask wallpaper. You could almost forget that this was a strip club if it weren’t for the shiny pole onstage.

  “You were right,” I concede. “But I’m just going to get my GED and take a few classes. I don’t know if it will go anywhere. I might end up here dancing again in six months.”

  “Ha! Blue would never let that happen.” Her eyes narrow at the far wall, as if she can see right through brick. As if she can punish him with just a look. “I’m the only one left.”

  I snort. “There are twenty girls working here.”

  She brushes them off with a wave of her hand, showing off pink nails with white polka dots. “They don’t understand me.”

  “I hate to break this to you, but I don’t understand you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, but they don’t like me.”

  “They’re just afraid of you because you perform weird voodoo on the men so they all love you. And because you have a thing with Ivan.”

  “Why do people think that? He only talks to me because I’ve been working here a long time.”

  I glance at the balcony. I can only see dark velvet curtains, but I thought I saw a shadow shift. Only one man would have access to be up there. One man with a very particular interest in the girl swinging her legs from the stage.

  “For being smart about men,” I say, “you’re stupid about him.”

  That makes her laugh. Her face lights up, and for that moment, she does look like a child. It’s disconcerting, because I know exactly where we are. No matter how pretty the building or how cultured its owner, the Grand is a dirty strip club. It strips all of us—taking our clothes and our dignity, turning men into base animals.

  Her smile goes sly. “Maybe that’s true, but I know he gets off on scaring girls like me. And I refuse to be scared.”

  I thought that way about the men who came here, but Blue tore me down with a single glance. He still tears me down with a glance, full of lust and longing. Full of love. “Be careful,” I tell her. “Men like that don’t give up easy.”

  “No, they don’t,” she says, her voice wistful. “But I’ve already seen the biggest monster, the one at the center of the maze. There is nothing Ivan could do as bad as that.”

  I shiver at the certainty in her voice. There are men that would take that as a challenge.

  The balcony is dark and still—and empty. It’s just a feeling more than a visual cue. He’s gone now, but he was there before. Watching. Listening.

  Waiting.

  The front double door opens, leaving a tall, broad man in silhouette. I know the shape of him intimately. I’ve traced his whole body with my hands. Blue.

  He crosses the room quickly and takes me in his arms. “Need more time?”

  I glance back at Candy, still sitting on the stage. For a second she looks almost forlorn. Then her usual smile slides into place, sunny and sardonic all at once. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  Guilt tugs at me for leaving her behind. “Come with me.”

  Her smile is faint. “I belong here. You, on the other hand, have a whole life waiting for you.”

  My heart clenches, because I thought I belonged here once too. I thought my life was wrapped around a pole, clad in red lace, with only the heavy beat of a song to carry me forward. Now I have something else to wrap around, something else to cover and carry me.

  Blue’s body is warm and solid next to mine. I lean into him, turning my face toward him to catch his scent. “Let’s go,” I whisper.

  His lips are gentle on my forehead. He guides me away, out of the dark, into the golden afternoon light. I’m blinded by it, but I don’t slow down. I know he can see, and I’m content to let him lead. More than content, I’m happy in my surrender. Forever fulfilled in the calloused hands that will hold me and hurt me, calm me and keep me, love me and never let me leave.

  The End

  Thank You

  Thank you for reading Better When It Hurts! I hope you loved Lola & Blue’s story.

  • The next book in the Stripped series is about Candy and Ivan. It will release this fall, and you can sign up for my newsletter at skyewarren.com/newsletter to get notified when it does.

  • You can discuss this book in my Facebook group for fans: Skye Warren’s Dark Room

  • I appreciate your help in spreading the word, including telling a friend.

  • Reviews help readers find books! Leave a review on your favorite book site.

  • The Stripped series is dark, dangerous, and sexy. If you loved this, you will probably also love Rough, the first book in the gritty Chicago Underground series. Turn the page to read an excerpt…

  Excerpt from Rough

  There’s a certain sultry walk a woman has when she’s bare that can’t be faked
. No hose and no panties. The nakedness under my skirt was as much about keeping me aroused as it was about easy access.

  I’d perfected the art of fuck-me clothes. A surprising number of men asked me out, even at a grungy club on a Saturday night. Cute little college girl, they thought, out for a good time. I saved us all time by dressing my part.

  Tonight’s ensemble consisted of a tight halter and short skirt with cheap, high-heeled sandals, bouncing hair, and bloodred toenails. The scornful looks of the other women didn’t escape me, but I wasn’t so different from them. I wanted to be desired, held, touched. The groping fingers might be a cheap imitation of intimacy, its patina cracked with rust and likely to turn my skin green, but they were all I deserved.

  My gaze panned to the man at the bar, the one I’d been watching all night. He nursed a beer, his profile harsh against the fluid backdrop of writhing bodies. His gray T-shirt hung loose on his abs but snug around thick arms, covering part of his tattoo.

  Dark eyes tracked me the way mine tracked him.

  His expression was unreadable, but I knew what he wanted. What else was there?

  He was hot in a scary way, and that was perfect. Not that I was discerning. I needed sex, not a life partner. There were plenty of men here, men whose blackened pasts matched my own, who’d give it to me hard.

  A woman approached him. Something dark and decidedly feminine roiled up inside me.

  She was gorgeous. If he wanted to score, he probably couldn’t do better, even with me.

  I tried not to stare. She walked away a minute later—rejected. I felt unaccountably smug. Which was stupid, since I didn’t have him either. Maybe no one had a chance with this guy. I was pretty enough, in a girl-next-door kind of way. Common, though, underneath my slutty trappings—brown hair and brown eyes were standard issue around here.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  I glanced up to see a cute guy wearing a sharp dress shirt checking me out. Probably an investment banker or something upstanding like that. Grinning and hopeful. Had I ever been that young? No, I was probably younger. At nineteen I had seen it all. The world had already crumbled around me and been rebuilt, brick by brick.

  “Sorry, man,” I said. “Keep moving.”

  “Aww, not even one dance?”

  His puppy-dog eyes cajoled a smile from me. How nice it might feel to be one of the girls with nothing to worry about except whether this guy would call tomorrow morning. But I was too broken for his easy smile. I’d only end up hurting him.

  “I am sorry,” I said, wistfulness seeping into my voice. “You’ll thank me later.”

  Regret panged in my chest as the crowd sucked him back in, but I’d done the right thing. Even if he were only interested in a one-night hookup, my type of sex was too toxic for the likes of him.

  I turned back to the guy at the bar. He caught my eye, looking—if possible—surlier. Cold and mean. Perfect. I wouldn’t taint him, and he could give me what I craved. Since Tall, Dark, and Stoic hadn’t deigned to make a move on me, I would do the pursuing. A surprising little twist for the night, but I could go with it.

  I squeezed in beside him at the bar. Up close his size was impressive and a little intimidating, but that only strengthened my resolve. He could give me what I needed.

  “Hey, tough guy,” I shouted over the din.

  He looked up at me from his beer. I faltered a bit at the total lack of emotion in his face and fought an automatic instinct to retreat. His eyes were a deep brown, almost pretty, but remote and flat. Dark hair was cut short, bristly. His nose was prominent and slightly crooked, like it had been broken. Maybe more than once.

  He looked mean, which was a good thing, but I was used to a little more effort. Even assholes provided a fake smile or smarmy line for the sake of the pickup. There was a script to these things, but he wasn’t playing his part.

  My club persona and beer from earlier lent me confidence. Whatever was bothering him—a bad day at the construction site or maybe a fight with the old lady—I didn’t care. He was here, so he needed this as much as I did.

  I planted my elbow on the bar. “I saw you looking at me earlier.”

  He raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. He was making me work for it, but I found myself more amused than annoyed.

  “Buy me a drink?” I asked.

  He considered me, then nodded and signaled the bartender.

  The beat of the club reverberated as I took a sip. “So do you talk?”

  His lips twitched. “Yeah, I talk.”

  “Okay.” I leaned in close to hear him better. “What do you talk about?”

  He ignored my question—or maybe answered it—by asking, “What are you doing here?” Almost like he was asking something deeper, but that had to be the alcohol talking.

  “I’m trying to get laid, that’s what I’m doing here.” I pulled off a breathy laugh I was pretty proud of.

  He didn’t react, didn’t appear surprised or even interested, the bastard. He just looked at me. “Why?”

  I decided on honesty. “Because I need it.”

  He seemed to weigh the truth of my words, then nodded toward the exit. “All right, let’s go.” He got up and threw some cash on the bar.

  His easy acceptance caught me off guard, just for a moment. But it shouldn’t have surprised me, because…well, because men always wanted sex. That’s what I liked about them—they didn’t even bother trying to hide it. It was worse when I hadn’t seen it coming, when it had sneaked up on me—Now wasn’t the time to think of that. It was never the right time to think of that.

  He tucked his hand under my elbow, guiding me. He used his body to maneuver us through the crowd, almost as a shield. The whole thing was so gentlemanly, given what we were about to do, that I wondered if he’d heard me right. Maybe he’d want to get coffee or something, and wouldn’t that be awkward all around?

  But he was a man, and I was a woman wearing fuck-me clothes—this could only end one way.

  When we exited the club, I couldn’t help sucking in several deep breaths. Even the faint smell of street sewage was refreshing, washing the stench of smoke, alcohol, and countless perfumes from my lungs. I never liked the crowds. The press of bodies, the mingling smell of sweat, the small bumps from all around. Tiny violations that were somehow okay since everyone did it.

  As my heart rate settled, he inspected me as if he could read me. He couldn’t. “What’s your name?” I asked to distract him.

  “Colin. Yours?”

  “Allie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Allie. Your place or mine?”

  I was comfortable again. I knew this play: horny girl who can’t wait to get naked.

  “We don’t need to go anywhere. Let’s get started right here.” I let a soft moan escape me and clasped myself to the brick wall named Colin. Never mind that I was dry as a bone. He wouldn’t notice. They never did.

  He raised his eyebrows. “In the parking lot?”

  “Or in my car. Whatever. I just want you to do me.”

  “I’m not fucking you in a car. It’s forty degrees out.”

  I was hardly in this for comfort. I’d done it in colder weather just this past winter. “I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Fine.” I was willing to give him so much. Why couldn’t he take it the way I wanted? “Then we can go to the motel over there. You’re paying.”

  He didn’t look happy. I wasn’t either, but I couldn’t budge on this. Going to an apartment might be the norm for hookups, but my hookups weren’t normal.

  Going to their houses where they might do God knows what was out of the question. And I wasn’t about to bring one of these guys home.

  “Not there,” he said. “I’ll pick the place.”

  Want to read more? Rough is available now.

  Other Books by Skye Warren

  Standalone Dark Romance

  Wanderlust

  On the Way Home

  His for Christmas

  Hea
r Me

  Take the Heat

  Stripped series

  Tough Love (prequel)

  Love the Way You Lie

  Better When It Hurts

  Pretty When You Cry

  Criminals and Captives series

  Prisoner

  Chicago Underground series

  Rough

  Hard

  Fierce

  Dark Nights series

  Keep Me Safe

  Trust in Me

  Don’t Let Go

  Dark Nights Boxed Set

  The Beauty series

  Beauty Touched the Beast

  Beneath the Beauty

  Broken Beauty

  Beauty Becomes You

  The Beauty Series Compilation

  Loving the Beauty: A Beauty Epilogue

  About the Author

  Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

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  www.skyewarren.com/newsletter

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  skyewarren.com/darkroom

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  Visit Skye’s website for her current booklist:

  www.skyewarren.com

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Shari Slade, Karla Doyle, Kathy from Just Let Me Read for your amazing insights on Better When It Hurts. Many thanks to Leanne Schafer for your careful editing.

  Thank you to Neda at the SubClub books for your work on the release. Plus Giselle at Xpresso Book Tours, Nicole at Indie Sage, and Debra at The Book Enthusiast for your help too. And thank you to all the bloggers who shared my Lola and Blue’s story.

  Thank you to Sara Eirew for the gorgeous photo. So pretty!

  Thank you to Paul at BB Ebooks for his fabulous formatting, as always.

  And last but not least, thank you to my readers, my Dark Room members, my Facebook fans, my twitter followers, my newsletter subscribers, and every reader who came out to support me.