by J. L. McCoy
“Ladies,” Jameson greeted cautiously. “How is everyone?” I nodded my head as Aoife poured us another shot of Jagermeister, never taking my eyes off my glass.
“We are excellent, Jameson dear,” Aoife purred lightly. “How are you?”
Jameson folded his arms across his chest and looked down at us disapprovingly. “Alright, you two, cut the shit,” he said roughly. “I know something happened.”
Aoife swirled the Jager around in her glass. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked innocently.
I downed my shot and risked a glance up at Jameson, doing my best to clear the emotions from my face and eyes.
Jameson growled and unfolded his arms, clenching his fists down at his sides. “Dammit, Aoife! What the hell did you do to her?”
Aoife kicked me hard under the bar and it startled me into answering. “Nothing,” I said quickly. “She didn’t do anything to me.”
Jameson refolded his arms over his chest and glared down at me. “And I’m supposed to believe that shit? Look at you!” he said, gesturing wildly to my body. “You’re shaking. There is genuine fear in your eyes and you’ve bitten a hole in your bottom lip.”
I quickly put my hand to my mouth and came away with a small spot of blood. I quickly looked over at the vampires and apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“What did you do to her, Aoife?” Jameson demanded.
“Oh, will you just calm the hell down already,” Aoife groaned and dismissively flicked her wrist in my direction. “We were just having a little chat, that’s all. Ask her. Nothing happened.”
Jameson looked at me questioningly. “Nothing happened,” I said as steadily as I could.
Jameson’s eyes narrowed in anger as he looked over at Aoife. “Archer said that you weren’t supposed to touch her, Aoife,” he growled lowly. “If I find out you did anything to her, I’ll personally deal with you.”
Aoife laughed sarcastically. “Please, Youngblood. Is that any way to talk to the wife of your creator?”
Jameson’s face quickly turned to mine and I briefly met his eyes. We had a whole wordless conversation in three seconds. I told him that I knew all about Aoife and Archer with my eyes and he sincerely apologized with his.
He turned his head and glared back at Aoife. “Do. Not. Call. Me. Youngblood,” he growled severely. She just laughed unkindly and dismissed him with another flick of her slim wrist.
Jameson reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. He wordlessly pulled me across the floor and down the back hall to one of the stockrooms. When we got inside, he quickly closed the door behind us and turned to me. “Are you okay?” he asked, lightly grabbing my chin between his finger and thumb as he searched my eyes.
I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. All of the intense emotions I was working so hard to hold in suddenly came pouring out in a massive tidal wave of tears and hiccups. Damn it all to HELL, I silently cursed. I hated showing my weaknesses in front of people and my body shook harder with the added emotion.
Jameson took me in his arms and held me tight. He gently rocked me to and fro as he whispered sweet, soothing words. I pushed him away after a second and roughly wiped the tears from my cheeks, trying hard to get control of myself
“Damn it, Jameson,” I whined angrily. “Why do you always have to do that?”
“Do what?” Jameson asked genuinely confused.
“Do THAT!” I said, gesturing to him. “Why do you always have to be the good guy? Why do you always feel like you have to come to my rescue?” I asked, angrily. “I was doing okay in there, damn it! You didn’t have to come “save me”! I can take care of myself!”
Jameson took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was just trying to protect you from her,” he said defensively. “You have no idea what she is like, Skye. You have no idea what she is even capable of. You don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty now, Jameson,” I spat angrily. I wasn’t really angry at him. I was angry at Archer and Aoife. He was turning into the scapegoat and I started to feel bad, but couldn’t stop my runaway mouth. “I understand that Archer lied to me and played with my emotions like I was some kind of frickin’ toy! I understand that he was married to her all along and lied to me about it! I understand that he used me! I understand plenty now, Jameson! I understand plenty!” I cried and buried my face in my hands.
Jameson sighed and pulled me to him again as he wrapped his arms tightly around my body. I struggled in vain for a few seconds before completely giving up and giving my body over to him. My knees were weak with the shame and grief that I felt and he walked over to a box and sat on it, pulling me onto his lap. He pulled my head to his chest, holding me gently, and allowed me to cry for a few minutes before he said anything.
I felt like an utter fool. I allowed myself to think that Archer had genuinely cared for me; that he was telling the truth back up in his office on opening night when he said he lied the night before about not having feeling for me. I was unbelievably disappointed in myself. I saw him kissing Aoife but I still secretly and immaturely harbored hope that he liked me; that it was somehow all a misunderstanding. Now I knew that he was nothing more than a lying womanizer. He was married to Aoife and he tried to have an adulterous fling with me on the side. I am no one’s plaything, I angrily thought, wiping the heavy tears from my eyes and clinging tighter to Jameson’s rock hard chest. Lesson learned. I won’t make that same mistake with him again.
I would be sure not to let Archer know that Aoife had told me about their marriage tonight. I didn’t want him thinking that that was the reason why I wasn’t melting around him anymore like some sick, pathetic puppy dog. I wanted him to think that I made the decision on my own; that I no longer wanted him of my own accord, not because of his marriage. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I actually cared about him.
“Skye, there is so much you don’t know,” Jameson said when my tears had finally slowed to hiccups. “I should have told you, but it wasn’t my place,” he said, sorrow and regret lacing his voice.
I looked up into his eyes and lightly hit his chest. “Shut up, Jameson,” I said tiredly. “None of this is your fault. You did the right thing by not telling me anything. He is your brother, your blood; your loyalty is to him alone. I do not now, nor will I ever, hold anything against you because of it.”
He reached his hand around and gently wiped the tears from my face with the back of his hand and thumb. “I can’t stand to see you cry, Skye,” he said honestly in a gentle whisper.
I shook my head with a humorless chuckle and looked up into his eyes. “I can stand it when I cry, either, Jameson.” I sighed and voiced something that had been bothering me for days. “Why are you still being nice to me when I so obviously don’t deserve it? I know I hurt you when I kissed Archer, Jameson. It was so wrong of me. I made a huge, ridiculously stupid mistake.”
He bent down and lightly kissed a soft, slow trail across my forehead. I sighed, closed my eyes and melted into his comforting touch. There was something about being kissed on my forehead that made everything wrong suddenly right in my world. Why do I always fall for the bad guys? I wondered. I went after bad boy Archer and look what happened! Here is Jameson, the sweetest guy I’ve ever met in my life, and he’s here kissing away my tears over his brother. I desperately wanted the good guy for once. I desperately wanted a man like Jameson to love me. I desperately wanted to deserve his love. I was tired of being hurt, played with, and stepped on. If I don’t make up my mind soon, Jameson may not be there when I finally do. My heart ached at that possibility. There had been something really special between Jameson and me before I went and screwed it all up with his brother. I should have never allowed myself to get blinded by Archer’s good looks. Jameson is who I wanted. But will he want me? Will he forgive me?
I lifted my head an inch and allowed Jameson to softly kiss each of my eyelids and the bridge of my nose. I felt a sudden jolt of butte
rflies in my stomach and became intensely aware of his intoxicating smell. He smelled like leather and a cool, crisp manly aftershave.
I took a deep breath in as I lifted my head another few inches and allowed him to gently kiss a trail across my cheek and to my jaw. God, he smells so good. I felt my breasts tighten with sudden arousal and I ran my hand up the ridges of his chiseled chest to cup his face as he kissed the line of my jaw. This feels so right. HE feels so right. God, I want him. I NEED him. “I need you.” The words slipped out in a breathy whisper.
He slightly pulled back when he reached the corner of my mouth and hesitated. “Skye,” he rumbled seductively, almost as if asking my permission to continue.
I looked up into his iridescent light green eyes and didn’t waver a second. I closed the two inch gap between us and softly touched my full lips to his. His touch felt right, his lips felt like home. I momentarily forgot all about the hurt his brother had caused me as our tongues slid together in a sensual, sweet dance.
I couldn’t control the moan that escaped from my lips, and, as if driven by it, Jameson lifted me in his lap and turned my body to face his as I placed my legs on either side of his hips and wrapped them tightly around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and fused my entire body to his.
Jameson’s kiss was deep, slow, soft, and…absolutely perfect. I felt my lower abdomen tingle with need and I involuntarily ground my lap against his. Our kisses grew deeper and more frantic as our hands explored each other’s bodies.
“Forgive me, Jameson,” I begged against his mouth. “Please, please forgive me. I was so stupid. I’m so sorry.”
Jameson growled against my mouth, quickly leaned forward and eased our bodies onto the cold, polished cement floor. He stopped kissing me long enough to look me deep in the eyes, gently caress my cheek and say, “I forgave you the night it happened, love.” A small sound of relief escaped my lips before he immediately replaced it with his mouth.
Our hands grew needier as our kissing intensified. All I wanted to do was fuse myself to this sweet, sexy, kind, and thoughtful man for the rest of the night. I reached down to his waist, grabbed ahold of his black shirt and pulled it over his head. I gently pushed him off of me and we both rose to our knees.
I looked passionately into his eyes as I slowly ran my soft, wet tongue over his rock hard, ripped chest. I took my time tasting every ripple, every inch. He threw his head back, shivered, and growled gutturally before looking back down at me and bringing his head to the mounds of my chest. I leaned my head back and let him have his turn on me. He licked and gently bit each mound before undoing the top two buckles of my bustier and freeing my needy, aching breasts.
Jameson lifted his head a moment and looked deeply into my eyes. “Tá mo chroí istigh ionat, Skye. A-chaoidh.” he whispered. Raw honestly and passion painted his beautiful words. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t understand them, I understood their intensity immediately. They caressed my heart like a lover’s hand and wrapped it in warm joy and promise. I reached up and gently grasped his face between each of my hands and pulled him down for a soft, slow, deep kiss.
I poured my sorrow and bliss, my life’s breath and my tears, my very being into that kiss. I kissed Jameson with every word I wanted to say and didn’t; with every word I wanted to say and couldn’t. I kissed him so completely that it brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to make love to him right this very moment. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me. I wanted to lose myself in this beautiful, perfect, caring man’s arms and never come back.
He briefly pulled away, gently laid me back down on the ground, and looked me deep in the eyes. His eyes full of the passion and heat we were both feeling. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Skye Morrison.”
I nodded my head in complete understanding. I had wanted him, too. “Make love to me, Jameson,” I whispered as I reached down between us and undid the button on his tight black pants. He rumbled with need and simultaneously worked my black PVC skirt up my thighs. I unzipped his pants and unabashedly plunged my hand inside while he captured my left nipple in his mouth, rolled it around on his tongue, and reached between my legs to lightly caress my warm, aching mound. I moaned with need and worked to free his hard, bulging, impressively large member as he slid his hand to my waist and started pulling my tights down my thighs. He reached between my legs, quickly pulled my thong to the side, and got ready to enter me. I took a deep, quivering breath, lifted my hips to meet his, and trembled in anxious, desperate anticipation.
Just then the stockroom door opened and Lochlan strolled in. Jameson immediately flattened his body over mine and growled loudly in warning as I let out a small, surprised scream and buried my face in his neck.
“Dhuine! Gabh mo leisgue!” Lochlan said in surprise and laughed, briefly covering his eyes. “Ifreann na Fola! Math thu-fhèin, Jameson. Math thu-fhèin. But, ya’ know our Archer’s going to kill ya’, right?”
Jameson growled savagely as I watched the color drain from his eyes. “Eist, Lochlan.” he said in a low, threatening voice. “If you mention this to Archer tonight, so help me God, I’ll kill you.” I looked up into his eyes and saw fierce determination in them.
I wrapped my one arm around Jameson’s neck and gently ran my ringers through his soft hair with the other, trying to calm him. “I think you need to leave, Lochlan.” I said, never taking my eyes off Jameson.
“Thoir do chasan leat!” Jameson yelled when Lochlan made no move to leave. “Bog!”
Lochlan shook his head and laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, Jameson, damn. I was just tryin’ to see what all the fuss was about.” Jameson growled deeply again in warning and Lochlan took a step back. “Well, siuthadaibh, ya’ two. But don’t forget, Jameson. Archer and An Dílis are still waitin’ for their bottle o’ Connemara.” With that he turned around and closed the door.
Jameson sighed heavily and rested his forehead on my left shoulder. “Damnú air,” he swore against my skin. “I forgot.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out, steadying myself. “I didn’t know Archer was here today. I thought he said he was going to be busy with those guys tonight. He said you and I were running the club.”
Jameson lifted his head and looked into my eyes. The color was slowly returning to them as he spoke. “He is busy, but he is here…at least he will be for a little while longer. And you and I are running the club.” He leaned down and softly kissed my swollen mouth. I parted his lips with my tongue and kissed him for all I was worth. I knew we couldn’t stay in this stockroom any longer, but I wanted to give him something to remember me by. He growled hungrily and kissed me deeply.
“I don’t want to leave,” he said with a groan, pulling away and placing a small, lingering kiss on my forehead. “But, I have to.”
I nodded my head as he lifted himself off of me and gripped my hand tightly to pull me up after him. He quickly grabbed his shirt and righted himself using vampire speed. He turned to the wall of stored liquor bottles as I did the same, only not as quickly. He selected the bottle of Irish whiskey and turned back to me, setting it down on a box and helped me buckle the front of my bustier back up.
“Can I see you after work?” he asked sweetly.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up into his beautiful green eyes. “Absolutely,” I said with a brush of my lips to his. “I can’t wait.”
We kissed each other one last time before we walked out of the stockroom.
Chapter 3
Jameson headed back to Archer’s office with the bottle of Connemara, and I went a few doors down to the employee lounge. The music was on full blast and I could tell that most of the cage dancers were already here. When I entered the room, I was surprised to see what time it was. It was 7 o’clock and Jameson and I had been in the stockroom with each other for over an hour.
“Skye!” the group of dancers called in greeting when they saw me.
I smiled and waved to them.
“
Hey, Skye!” Eden called out to me as I went to my locker and retrieved my travel makeup bag.
“Hey, Eden,” I called back to her. “How’s it going?”
“Good!” she sang as she grabbed her outfit off the couch and walked behind one of the corner screens to change. She popped her head out as I walked up to the lighted mirror and set my bag down on the table. “You’ve got to fix your lipstick, girl,” she said in a whisper before disappearing again.
I felt my face flush hot with embarrassment as I checked the mirror. Oh, my. My bright red lipstick was smeared something awful. I took out a small pack of makeup removing wipes and took the remainder of my lipstick off. Smudge-proof, my ass, I thought silently. Well, it has never before been put through that rigorous of a test. I chuckled to myself and selected a tube of dark purple lipstick to wear next. The tube of red that I had been wearing was back in my bathroom at home.
I fixed my eyeliner, refreshed my face powder, blotted my lipstick and then took the travel bag back to my locker. I grabbed out the five black wristbands Archer gave me last night and relocked my locker. Three more dancers poured in and I did a quick head count. Three general employees and ten dancers meant that they were all here. I walked over to the boom box, lowered the volume and whistled sharply.
“Good evening, all you good looking ladies and gents!” I happily called out to the gathered crowd. “I’m going to have to work the first floor bar tonight, so I’m going to need to appoint one of you to assist me with watching the cages and notifying the dancers when it’s time to switch or go on break.” I watched as Courtney raised her hand and volunteered for the job.
I smiled and shook my head. “You’re working the second floor again tonight, Courtney,” I said and she smiled. I beckoned her over to me with my hand and placed the black band around her right wrist. “Seth, Staci, and Peyton, you’ll also be working upstairs,” I said and they walked over to get their wristbands attached as well.
