by Quinn, Cari
His grin grew. “And it shows, honey. So tell me then. What can I get you?” He leaned on the bar, his tanned forearms ripping. “Anything you want. Anything at all.”
I sensed the looming presence behind me before I took a quick glance over my shoulder and glimpsed Gio’s glower. “Rum,” I said sweetly, turning back to Josh. “Lots of it.”
He glanced at Gio then back to me, his smile slipping slightly. “You got it. One sec.”
The minute he’d turned away, Gio caged me in with his arms on either side of the bar. Where I’d had to fight to make room, people seemed to just glide away in deference to him.
“You’re angry,” he said against the side of my neck, his breath ruffling my heavy hair. Stupid wig.
I didn’t answer, just tapped my fingernails on the bar and pretended I couldn’t feel his cock pressing into my ass.
Of course he was hard. Why wouldn’t he be? He’d just been sitting in the middle of a flesh banquet, with two pairs of ripe melons inches from his mouth.
“I’m not interested in her. She’s just part of the game.”
Those words made me irrationally mad. I whirled and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Part of what game?”
He pressed his lips together and said nothing.
“My sister is right.” I shook my head. “Once a con artist, always a con artist.”
“Carlotta, here’s your Rum Runner. On the house,” Josh added when Gio took out his wallet.
“Thank you,” I said to my friend, taking a swig that went straight to my still woozy head.
“You’re not getting drunk. You need to have your wits about you.” Gio plucked my drink out of my hand and held it just out of reach.
“You bastard.”
It took everything I possessed not to create a big ass scene, mainly because I was still feeling the aftereffects of my meltdown at the end of my set. And because he’d touched another girl right in front of me. God, that hurt.
“You’ll thank me later.”
“Dammit, I can take care of myself.” I hadn’t done the best job the other night, but I’d come prepared tonight. I wouldn’t be caught unaware again. “Just leave me alone.”
He turned his near-black eyes on me, rooting me to the spot. “I can’t.”
Ten
My punishment was watching her dance her second set.
The first had been bad enough. She’d seemed so into it, as if stripping came as easily to her as breathing. She’d effortlessly teased the crowd, and they’d responded by tossing fistfuls of money in her cage. The act had become more and more explicit until she’d practically been masturbating for everyone to see—and dammit, as much as I hated it, I’d gotten so hard for her that walking became impossible. About the only thing I’d been capable of was yanking her out of that cage to cover her with my arms.
I hadn’t done it, though I’d been sorely tempted. Then I’d watched her change from a playful temptress into a scared version of the Carly I knew, and I hadn’t been able to get to her fast enough.
All I’d wanted to do was stay by her side and make sure she was okay. But I couldn’t. Even if Marco and the others took me at face value that Carly was mine, that didn’t mean I could reject their kind of gifts. One of them had been Monique, the woman Carly had seen on my lap.
I hadn’t kissed or even barely touched her, but I knew how it looked. I didn’t want to hurt Carly, especially when she was already reeling over being in the club again. But I couldn’t let years of work go down the drain by making an issue out of flirting with a beautiful woman. If I did that, the others would start paying too close attention to me. There was a set way of doing things, and the women with these men understood that faithfulness wasn’t a two-way street.
I didn’t operate that way, but Carly had no reason to know that. I did the bare minimum I could to fit in, and that was all.
She wasn’t supposed to be hurt by who I was with, any more than I was supposed to need to breathe deep to stop myself from cracking the skulls of the assholes near her cage who started getting too grabby about fifteen minutes into her second set. She deflected them with a laugh and a wiggle of her ass, making the rage simmering in my blood turn darker and hotter.
I had to have her again.
She turned toward my side of the club and gripped the cage bars, pushing her bare breasts against them so the taut nipples poked through. The men beneath went wild, tossing money like it was confetti, and she responded by slipping a hand under her dress. She hadn’t removed it entirely this time, just rolled it to the waist, and there was no mistaking what she was mimicking. From this distance and in the darkness of the club, I couldn’t make out the details, but I didn’t need to. I’d been closer last time, and I’d glimpsed her fingers disappearing under her thong. Now she was doing it again, teasing herself and the crowd both, and I couldn’t keep from fisting the hands I’d shoved under my biceps.
Standing in the dark, surrounded by strangers and enemies cloaked as friends, I throbbed for her. Every part of me burned with lust and frustration and concern and anger. This wasn’t for her, but if I tried to insist it, she’d do it just to spite me. I had to let her make the choice on her own.
She didn’t rush from the stage after this set. Nor did she wait for me to catch up with her. She was pissed about Monique, and if we’d been in a regular relationship, I wouldn’t blame her.
What we were in had no definition. I didn’t think even Facebook’s It’s Complicated status began to cover it.
Hell, she’d just bared herself to every man who paid the cover charge, so how could she be mad at me for having a girl on my lap? One I’d barely talked to and barely touched.
When she emerged from the dressing room with her short trenchcoat belted around her waist and her regular ponytail bouncing down her back, I let out a breath. As sexy as she was as Carlotta, this was the woman who slayed me. She’d scrubbed off her lipstick and those nude, puffy lips were more alluring than any coat of paint. That silky reddish-gold hair more beautiful than any femme fatale wig.
I didn’t say any of that. What would be the point, other than confusing this already fucked-up situation with compliments she wouldn’t trust, anyway?
“Are you ready to go?” I asked.
She nodded.
Guess that was all the answer I was going to get.
I’d already made my goodbyes a short while ago to Marco and the others, and since Lorenzo hadn’t shown up tonight, I viewed the evening as a bitter disappointment. That wasn’t even addressing the Carly situation. I wouldn’t be sleeping easy for a while with the images of her pressed against the bars of the cage trapped behind my eyes.
We drove home in silence. No conversation, no music to distract from the tension filling the truck. There was just the sound of her boots squeaking against each other as she fidgeted, and the unnaturally loud beat of my heart filling my head as I watched her curvy thighs separate and press together. Separate and press together, over and over again.
She wasn’t the only one shifting on her seat.
When I should’ve turned off toward her place, I kept going. It hadn’t been my plan. I didn’t have a plan. I’d lived with one for every moment of the last two years, using it as fuel to put one foot in front of the other.
Now, here, with her, there was no blueprint. Nothing to guide me but need.
“Where are we going?” She swallowed audibly. “My sister is expecting me.”
I glanced at the dashboard clock. “At almost three a.m.?”
“She worries.”
That was obvious to anyone with eyes. “Text her, let her know you’re okay, but you won’t be home tonight.”
“Oh, so now you want me. You saw me shake my ass and my tits and now—”
Lightning fast, I reached across the seat and caught a handful of her ponytail, tugging gently. “What did I tell you about diminishing yourself in my presence?”
“I’m not diminishing anything. You’re trying to diminish me
by running so fucking hot and cold.”
I grabbed her hand and brought it to my cock, hard and straining against my jeans. She bit her lip, but she still let out one of those sexy little gasps that I both hated and adored. “Does that feel cold to you?”
“It feels like you went to a strip club and watched a topless dancer.” She snatched her hand back and slipped across the seat. “They have back rooms for that. I know you know that all too well, because I stood outside one last spring while you got your dick sucked.”
Yeah, I’d gotten my dick sucked, all right, for the sole purpose of killing the last bit of interest Carly had in me. I was still trying to do that.
Some twisted, masochistic part of me was also still trying to keep it alive.
“I was hard before I saw you dance. It definitely pushed things along, but it didn’t start me off.”
Arms crossed, she stared straight ahead.
“I know you don’t understand—”
“You don’t want me to understand. You want to keep me in the dark, but I guess after last week, you also want a bite of nookie cookie now and then, huh? Sorry, buddy, it’s not going to work that way. I’m not your sometimes fuckee.”
Despite everything, my lips twitched. She was the only person capable of making me smile so easily. Those smiles usually ended up bookended by the urge to shove her against a wall and fuck her brainless and wanting to pull my hair out because she was so goddamn frustrating.
“I don’t want a bite of your nookie cookie. I want to eat the whole damn thing and lick my fingers afterward. Then I want to clean up the crumbs with my tongue.”
“Overshare,” she muttered, and I would’ve smiled wider if I’d been focused on anything but the pulse of blood in my dick.
“I know I haven’t been fair to you.”
Still nothing.
“It’s for your own good—”
“Heads up, I don’t do well with people telling me that things are for my own good, especially when it feels like I’m sitting in a steaming pile of poo. My sister said those words to me my entire life, and you know what ended up happening? The second I got a taste of freedom, I started stripping. Because it felt good to be wanted, even if it was just for this.” She gestured at the front of her body. “I know no one could understand how getting up there and dancing half naked is freeing for me, but it is. Or it was until last Friday night.”
I gripped the wheel tighter. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t,” she said loudly when I would’ve interrupted her. “I flirted with Marco for tips, and because I enjoyed his attention. It wasn’t my fault either. What I was to blame for was coming to work unprepared, but I rectified that tonight.” She picked up her purse and shook it. “I have pepper spray, throwing stars, and a recording app if anyone decides to touch me again. They can take pictures to demonstrate my supposed character until the end of time, but they won’t get their hands on my fucking phone.”
Admiration wound through me. “Throwing stars?”
Her chin came up. “My sister taught me how to use them.”
“Good. That’s good. She should teach you some basic self-defense moves—” I fell silent at her hard stare. “I suppose you have that under control.”
“I do. I know some self-defense moves, Gio. I didn’t use them on you because I wanted to have sex with you.”
If I’d been capable of blushing, that would’ve done it. Why, I didn’t know, but damn if I didn’t feel the back of my neck grow warm.
“Not like that,” I said quietly. “Never like that.”
“Some part of me gets off on exhibitionism,” she said after a moment. “At first, I told myself that was just another kind. But it wasn’t, was it? That’s why it keeps kicking back on me, why I keep having flashbacks.” She shuddered. “Why I can’t sleep, because Marco and his men are watching me from the corners like twisted boogeymen.”
“No. That had nothing to do with sex, or pleasure, or enjoyment. It had everything to do with power and control.” As soon as the words were out, I exhaled. “I don’t mean—”
“We both got off. There was something there, in the midst of what they’d started.” It was her turn to blow out a breath. “Maybe it was easy to get what happened tangled up, to make it into more.”
“It’s been more since you first looked at me, and I looked at you.”
“Don’t.” She covered her face with her hands. “You aren’t going to tell me what you’re doing with them, or why you’d stay in their company after what they made us do. Whatever your reason is, it’s bigger than all of that. Way bigger than any stupid flickers of attraction—”
“Is that what you’d call this?” I clenched my jaw. “A flicker of attraction?”
“I’d call it a mistake.”
She was right, so what could I say? Arguing with her wouldn’t be fair to her—or to me, because I was no longer capable of being the kind of man she needed. Clean-cut, stand up. The kind who wouldn’t pull another woman onto his lap in the time it took for her to wash her hands. Extenuating circumstances didn’t change the reality of who I was.
Who I’d become.
“I understand why you need to strip.” I cleared my throat at her snort. “Okay, no, I don’t. But you said you have reasons, that it used to be enjoyable to you.”
“The money’s enjoyable. It’s nice not needing to lean on my sister. The dancing…well, I’d probably enjoy it just as much with my clothes on. Hindsight being twenty/twenty and all.”
“I meant what I said earlier about sticking with you while you’re at the club. So if you’re going to be there, I’m going to be with you. I’d like to say it’s a democracy and you have a choice. On everything else, you do. On this one thing, you don’t. You can’t.” When she started to speak, I reached out for her hand and set it on my thigh. “I need to make sure you’re safe, tesoro. Not because you can’t do it on your own, but because I want to help.”
“So. Not. Fair.”
I smiled and rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. She had such delicate hands, pale, soft. But such strength existed under their fragile appearance. I’d seen her wield a knife. Felt her grip my cock.
“I can’t offer you more than this.” I pulled to the curb about a block from my building. I could’ve parked closer, but I wanted—needed—the walk. “I can be your friend, and I can be your protector, and behind closed doors, I can be your lover. But I can’t be your boyfriend.”
“Why?”
Such a simple question. So impossible to answer. “I was in love once. It didn’t end well. I won’t do it again.”
“I never have,” she said softly. “Been in love. I’ve been in serious like and serious lust. And to be honest, I don’t have room in my life right now for a big time love. I have school, and work, and my family. But I can always make room for a friend and a lover. Protector…well, as long as you’re cool with getting some of that back too, then I guess that works.”
“What does that mean?” I was almost afraid to ask.
With Carly, it could mean anything.
“It means shut up and kiss me before I spontaneously combust.”
I turned off the truck and pocketed the keys. Shifting toward her, I lifted her hand still cupped in mine to my mouth. One by one, I kissed each of her fingertips. They were cool, small, with hints of calluses from her work in the kitchen. Gentle and tough, both.
When I finished with one hand, I reached for the other and gave it the same treatment. I looked up and her eyes were shining, the streetlights reflected in their depths.
“Not what you meant?” I asked softly.
“No, not what I meant,” she echoed, equally soft. “But it was even better.”
We got out of the truck and met on the sidewalk. It felt weird to hold out my hand for hers, as if I was doing something wrong. As if Emilia could see me. That she would know I had feelings for this girl, even though we’d just agreed all we would be to each other was this, in the
dark. But it didn’t feel casual or insignificant as her fingers curled around mine and she leaned her head on my shoulder on the walk to my building.
“This…whatever we’re doing,” she circled her finger in the air between us, “it’s just us, right? No one else, until it’s done.”
Until it’s done. Sounded so simple, final and clean.
Nothing had been simple or clean in my life for a very long time.
“No,” I agreed. “No one else.” I waited a beat, searched for the right words. Or at least ones that weren’t wrong. “You might see me with other women now and then, and that can’t be avoided. But I give you my word, you’ll be the only one I touch behind closed doors.”
“Since you’ll definitely see me dancing for other men, I suppose I won’t bitch too much.”
Not the same at all, but maybe that was her idea of a compromise. She wouldn’t ask me about my business if I didn’t pressure her about hers.
The only problem with that was that her business was mine. Everything that occurred at The Pyramid Club came under the purview of the Andrettis. Every. Damn. Thing. The people in that place were as dirty as the floors in the VIP rooms before they were bleached clean.
We walked around to the side entrance as we had last time. The silence between us wasn’t awkward now, as it had been in the car. We’d come to an understanding of sorts, and anticipation hummed between us like an exposed wire sparking in the rain.
Once we were in the elevator, I glanced at the phone she held. “Text your sister.”
She made a face at me. “I was going to later, bossy man.”
“Do it now.” I snagged a handful of her ponytail and tipped back her head until our eyes met. “You’re going to be busy for the rest of the night.”
Eleven
The instant I stepped into his apartment, I was whirled around and pressed against the door. He used my ponytail to guide my head back so he could latch his mouth on my neck. With one suck of his lips on my throbbing pulse, I was on the verge of coming.
