by Grant, Livia
“I wish. That would have at least been entertaining.” The head bartender stood, stretching her back while waving her glass-filled hand toward the mirrored back wall of the bar. “A whole fucking shelf broke. Not only did it drop all the bottles from that shelf, but it crashed into the bottom shelf as well. We’ve lost thousands of dollars of inventory, not to mention I’ve been ignoring the waiting guests, trying to clean the shit up enough, my crew and I don’t cut ourselves to shreds on the shards.”
“Okay, well, let me deal with the cleanup. You go take care of the paying customers.”
“No fucking way. I’m not making you clean this up on your own. It’s a goddamn debacle.”
Nalani smiled at Susie’s normally colorful language. Tonight, the bartender was right, though. It was a Goddamn mess. She almost didn’t know where to start. Still, she persisted.
“Seriously, the natives are getting restless. Go take care of them and let me handle this.”
Her friend looked unsure but finally gave in. “Fine, but I’ll be back to help as soon as I get the line down. I hope everyone is happy with beers, soda, and water since most of my high-end booze just went down the drain… literally.”
Nalani busied herself with the cleanup, starting with a trip to her cleaning supply closet, coming back with a large rolling garbage can and all the other supplies she’d need for the job. Most importantly, she donned long rubber gloves and got to work picking up the largest pieces of the broken glass.
It took her almost twenty minutes of bending and reaching to get the space cleaned up enough to be ready to mop and do the final wash down. Her back was aching, and her feet were on fire. That soaking bath waiting for her at home was more welcome than ever.
She’d tried to tune out the buzz of the crowd while she worked, in part, because she kept catching snippets of sexy conversations that made her feel like a spy, listening in on things that were none of her business. More importantly, she was ultra-aware, in her housekeeping uniform, cleaning up the broken bottles and spilled expensive booze, she wasn’t one of them—one of the privileged.
As a glass half-full kinda girl, most days, she was more than grateful for her steady job and good friends. She knew things could have turned out very differently for her and was determined to remain grateful for the opportunities she’d been given after a very rough start in the world.
But the downside of working for the Cartwright-Davidson’s was the daily reminder, she didn’t really belong in the opulence found under the roof of the mansion. Oh, they never once tried to make her feel like less. In fact, they went out of their way to make her feel needed and valued—as an employee.
Fuck! She’d been so distracted in her own little world, she hadn’t been careful enough. Not one minute after she’d taken the rubber gloves off, thinking she had the glass cleaned up, a stray splinter found the palm of her hand.
“Shit,” she said to no one in particular. The din of the compressed space was so loud, she assumed no one would hear her curse.
She was wrong.
“Here, let me see that.”
The voice behind her was familiar. Muscular arms wrapped around her from the back, reaching out to grab both her hands as red blood dripped down to the recently cleaned floor.
“Let’s get you over to the bar sink and run some cold water over that cut.”
The man’s voice was deep, authoritative—yummy. She connected with his gravelly voice at the same moment they stepped up to the sink, and she could see their reflection in the mirrored bar wall, him a full head higher than her.
All thoughts of her bleeding hand flew out of her mind the second she realized it was Shane Covington who’d rushed to help her. Shane Covington who was triaging her injury like an emergency technician.
Shane Covington who had his arms wrapped around her, his muscular body pressed into her back intimately. Nalani’s brain scrambled while her tongue-tied into knots—being hugged by an international superstar would do that to a girl.
The shock of the cold water hitting the open gash on her left palm broke her out of her paralysis.
“Owie! That stings!”
His grip on her left wrist tightened as she tried to yank her hand free.
“Leave it under the water. I don’t want you to get an infection.”
“But, it hurts,” she protested, wiggling in his arms.
“Sorry, but in case you missed it, you’re at Black Light. I hate to tell you, I’m a sadist. Does it make me an asshole if hearing that kinda turns me on?”
His question caught her off-guard. She glanced up from the sink to see the sexy grin spreading across the actor’s handsome face. He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure if it was the sight of her own blood or his feral look that was responsible for her light-headed wobble.
“Whoa, there.” With ninja reflexes, Shane’s right arm wrapped around her waist to hold her steady while his left hand remained outstretched, holding her wound under the water. His gaze penetrated her in their reflection as his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
“You aren’t one of those people who faint at the sight of blood, are you?”
“I’m not fainting,” she defended.
“Uh huh. That’s why I’m the only thing keeping you from face planting right now.”
Her heart fluttered under his intense glare. Nalani was used to fading into the background—never in the limelight. His heated scrutiny warmed her. She felt the full-body blush spreading head to toe as their eyes remained locked in their reflection. Her tongue felt heavy in her suddenly parched mouth as her brain tried to process what was happening.
It had to be a misunderstanding. There was no way the Shane Covington was flirting with her—not a housekeeper. He was an actor, she reminded herself. He was used to flirting with everyone. That could explain his smile and willingness to help her. It didn’t quite explain the erection she felt hardening against her lower back, however.
Embarrassed, she thrust her ass out in an attempt to push him backward, but he remained molded to her like locked puzzle pieces, turning her thrust into an R-rated dance.
Was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes just before he broke their stare to glance down at the running water?
Well, of course, he’s disappointed. I’m not a famous model.
“Let’s have a look at this now, shall we? We need to decide if you need stitches,” he added, pulling her hand out of the water to inspect it.
The gash was about an inch-long right in the middle of her left palm. It was definitely more than a scratch, but there was no way in hell she was going to the hospital for stitches.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she assured him, embarrassed at the continued attention.
“I don’t know. It’s borderline. We need to see if we can get it to stop bleeding. Stay here.”
It was an order, yet the second he stepped away, her fight-or-flight instincts propelled her into action, turning to escape. Two hands clamped down hard on her hips, yanking her back against his hard body. Droplets of blood dripped from her outstretched hand onto the floor.
“Was I unclear, little girl?” he asked, his voice as hard as the appendage at her back.
The man personified every sexual fantasy she’d ever had. Still, there had to be a mistake. Her accident must have interrupted him in the middle of a date with a rich socialite or maybe a fashion model. That was the only explanation for his continued arousal. Men like Shane Covington could snap his fingers and have any woman he wanted. He didn’t need to slum it with the help.
His fingers dug into her hips, holding her tight. The only good thing was she’d turned to leave, so they could no longer see each other’s reflection in the mirror. She did her best to pretend he was just a random guy and not a larger-than-life celebrity rocking her world, but her name on his lips made that impossible.
“Nalani… what did I tell you?”
Her brain told her he was overstepping. Who the hell did he think he was, giving her ord
ers? The rest of her body, however, recognized him for what he was… a dominant.
“Stay put,” she whispered as another few drops of blood dropped to the floor. She wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her over the noise of the bar.
His “good girl” against her ear was a powerful aphrodisiac, which was ludicrous since there was absolutely nothing sexy about getting injured. Still, as she allowed herself to be lifted up like a rag doll by those strong hands on her hips, then redeposited back in front of the still running water at the sink, she couldn’t stop the clenching at her core.
“Now, don’t move. Understand?” he pressed, still holding her as if he were afraid she would try to bolt again.
She couldn’t resist looking up at his reflection again. The hard set of his scruff-covered jaw took her breath away. She could tell he was waiting for her to answer, despite having no idea what to say.
She finally went with a simple, “Yes, sir.”
The sexy smile that lit up his face should be outlawed.
“Man, I do love the sound of those two words directed my way, especially from those full lips of yours. Let’s get your hand fixed, and we’ll see if you can tell me yes, sir a few more times tonight.” He paused before sternly adding, “Now I mean it. Don’t take your hand out of the water.”
Her brain felt scrambled. He was really flirting with her—Nalani, the housekeeper.
Adding to her confusion, she felt a chill when he stepped away. It was ludicrous, but she missed his heat… his strength… his masculine smell.
She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, willing herself not to read too much into the innocent encounter. He was just being a gentleman, stepping in to help her when she was injured. He’d get her wound wrapped, then go back to seducing any number of women present who would gladly drop to their knees to service Shane Covington.
A pang of something close to jealousy hit her at the thought of him moving on to play with someone else that night, which was completely insane. She already had a great story to remember later in the privacy of her tiny apartment. Nalani knew she’d be replaying tonight’s events over and over for many nights to come. When she turned her lights off and was alone in her bed… free to pretend his attention was more than him just being kind. To pretend she was one of the rich members of Black Light, there for a date with the larger-than-life action hero.
He was only gone a few minutes, and when he returned, he had the stocked first-aid kit they kept behind the bar. He flung open the container and started rummaging through the supplies, picking out the items he wanted.
Around them, the crowd chattered on, some shouting drink orders to Susie and the other bartender on duty while others chit-chatted with friends and lovers.
She hadn’t finished cleaning up the spill before she injured herself, and Shane was having trouble finding a place to lay out his supplies. Before she knew what was happening, he’d thrown everything back into the kit and slammed the lid closed. Grabbing a nearby towel, he turned off the running water and wrapped her hand in the cloth before reaching out to take her uninjured hand.
“Come with me. We need to find someplace better to work on this.”
“But… I can just wrap it when I get home.”
He was pulling her behind him, out from behind the bar and through the throng of members hovering in the bar area. Once they broke out of the crowd, she almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides as he headed for the double doors leading to the theater. An odd electric charge emanated from where their hands remained locked together.
The second they got into the dimly lit room and the doors closed behind them, the crush of the people talking in the club gave way to an awkwardly quiet theater where the only sounds were from the X-rated movie playing on the huge screen, along with the equally steamy sex scenes playing out by the handful of couples spread out in the space.
She’d always known the sticky deposits on the expensive leather seats were very personal body fluids, but tonight, watching the action, she had a new appreciation for the fun members had while making the messes she cleaned up.
Shane pulled her along toward the front of the room, where there were several open seats together. About halfway down the aisle, Nalani started to pull on their link, trying to get him to stop. She was barely brave enough to watch porn movies at home in the privacy of her own bedroom, she sure as hell wasn’t going to watch one in public… with Shane Covington watching her.
“Come along, little girl. The sooner we get started on patching you up, the sooner you’ll be able to escape since that’s clearly what you’re obsessed with doing.”
He wasn’t wrong, yet his playful glance over his shoulder got her heart racing faster than any sexy movie ever could. She stopped pulling, allowing herself to be led to a plush lounge seat at the front of the theater. The screen was only ten feet away, making the thick cock of the actor presently plowing the ass of a tied-up submissive huge.
Shane motioned for her to sit, then shocked her by kneeling, facing her while placing the first-aid kit on the floor. The room was dim, but her seat was close to one of the small wall sconces, providing light for him to see the supplies he needed.
“Now, let me get a look at this hand and see if the bleeding has slowed down.” He pulled her left hand toward him. “You just sit back and enjoy the entertainment.”
* * *
Shane was thoroughly enjoying the best show in town.
And no, it wasn’t the X-rated porn flick on the screen at his back. It was the plethora of emotions playing out on the face of the beautiful woman sitting in front of him. He’d known Nalani was pretty when they’d met earlier that day, but tonight, he realized just how gorgeous the natural beauty really was.
The golden flecks in her deep brown eyes caught in the flickering light of the theater. She had thick, long, dark hair he would love to thrust his fingers through as he pounded her from behind like the action on the display behind him. But it was her flawless complexion, currently blushing pink as her attention remained riveted to the on-screen tryst, that had him wishing for a chance to re-enact the on-screen scene with her in the privacy of his suite upstairs.
Even as he thought it, he dismissed the idea. As much fun as it had been to flirt with the housekeeper, he could tell she was a novice. A small pang of guilt tried to wedge in, putting a damper on his enjoyment watching her wiggling in her seat. Still, she worked at Black Light, so just how innocent could she really be? It could be fun, trying to get to the bottom of that particular question.
He took his time cleaning her cut, wrapping it in gauze and applying enough pressure to stem the bleeding. She wouldn’t need stitches, but by the time he’d finished bandaging her up, he could smell her arousal, telling him her petite body might need some other type of attention.
Dare he? Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit more fun with the Polynesian beauty. Considering his kink of choice was humiliation play, he just couldn’t resist seeing just how red he could make her cheeks—both sets.
He had a front-row seat—literally—as Nalani’s breath hitched, quickening as the guy behind him pounded his onscreen sub like a jackhammer. The faster the scene played out, the more Nalani rocked in her seat, subconsciously trying to scratch her very personal itch.
Suddenly remembering she wasn’t surfing porn sites alone in the privacy of her home, she turned panicked eyes, as wide as saucers on him, blanching from beet red to pale chalk when she realized he’d been studying her. Her mortification fanned his own hunger. His already erect cock throbbed for release from his confining jeans.
Forcing restraint, he settled for teasing her verbally. “I’m used to kneeling at Black Light, but I confess it’s usually the woman on her knees, not me. But I like the view from down here… and how close it puts me to that sexy smell of yours.”
Christ, the embarrassed humiliation in her eyes was his kryptonite.
It was his only complaint about playing at Black Light. The club provided unpreced
ented privacy, which was so important to men in the public eye like him. It even gave him the opportunity to connect with experienced submissives who came ready to play. He’d found great sex partners in general, but none of the women he’d met had been able to feed his deepest need—the one he kept on a tight rein.
Watching Nalani’s embarrassment turn to a feral-like longing tempted him to throw off the reins and see how far he could push her.
“I’ve taken care of your cut. Now, I’d like to take care of another part of you.”
The full lips he’d admired earlier fell open, forming a cute little ‘O,’ yet she didn’t speak, so he pressed her further.
“Do you know what a safeword is?”
Confusion clouded her heated gaze, threatening to extinguish the tenuous thread between them. He reached out to place his hands on her bare knees, enjoying the smooth touch as he pressed her verbally.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Nalani.”
“Not really… well, sort of…” Her voice started as a whisper but trailed off to silence.
“A safeword works like magic at Black Light. A safeword brings all play to a halt. No matter what’s going on.”
“Okay,” she whispered softly, not pressing him for more.
“I like to use the traffic light system. It’s nice and easy. Green means you like what’s happening and want more. Yellow means you want things to slow down a bit. Maybe have some time to regroup. But red… well, that’s the magic word that makes everything stop.” He stopped to let it all sink in with the novice in front of him. When she said nothing, he quizzed her. “What could you say to make me take my hands off your knees right now?”
Her breath hitched, but she was finally able to squeak out a pinched, “Red?”
“Very good. Let’s make the question a bit harder.” He paused, enjoying the cocktail of anticipation in her expressive eyes before pressing her. “What color are you feeling right now, Nalani?”
He waited thirty long seconds while she struggled to answer. Her wiggling in her seat had resumed, and the smell of her sex wafted up to tease him. Still, he held, waiting for her consent to proceed. It came in the form of a whispered, “Green.”
