Bound To Protect (Crescent City Kings)

by Anya Summers

  She tried to focus on anything but the men’s leering faces as she swayed her hips to the music and gripped the pole. She crawled inside herself, pretended she was at a club on the beach, dancing with no cares or worries. It was the only way she would make it through the next ten minutes of her life.

  She swung her body around the pole. But some of their words bled through.

  “Take it off, honey.”

  “Show us your tits.”

  “Don’t be shy, baby.”

  After her next turn around the pole, her hands went to the front clasp on her studded bra. This was it. The moment she had been dreading. She wanted to back out. She wanted to run and hide, and forget that she had ever had to go to these lengths.

  Alex’s face flooded her vision. He would suffer and eventually die without his medication, without a roof over their heads.

  Sabrina unhooked the clasp, and let the material fall, pasting a fake smile on her face as the men went crazy. She did a little shimmy and looked above the crowd going wild and tossing money in her direction. She swung around the pole again, and was brought up short.

  What was he doing here?

  It was Dante Rousseau, owner of Bayou Sin, and one of the people Sabrina cleaned for during the day. With a scowl marring his strong brow, he pushed through the throng with ease, his wide mouth set in a grim, firm line. Before she realized what Dante was up to, he’d grabbed her by the wrist, hauled her forward, and tossed her over his shoulder.

  Over the din, Sabrina heard the director introduce Jessica. Shock gave way to fury. How dare he?

  “Put me down!” She kicked and pounded her fists against his back. Male laughter reached her ears, and it only made her rage burn that much brighter.

  “Quiet,” he ordered. His iron grip on her body tightened, and he swatted her rear with a hard wallop.

  He had spanked her, like she was a misbehaving child! She was too stunned to respond.

  His broad, muscled shoulder dug into her belly. She grew dizzy from having her world turned upside down. Where was he taking her, and why? The scent of frying food assailed her as they left the main floor, while an old Etta James number played in the background. But Dante kept moving, kept walking, passed through another door, and shut it behind them.

  Her world was righted, and she found herself sitting on a leather couch in the man’s office, with Dante kneeling before her.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

  “I’d like to ask you the same thing.” His gaze dipped to her chest. And for the briefest of moments, she spied hunger in those intense chocolate depths before he flicked his gaze back up to hers. Dante reached over his head and dragged his tee shirt off.

  Miles of smooth, contoured chest muscles were now exposed to her gaze. She’d always thought Dante was hot, with his simmering, magnetic stare, but that was before she had seen him without a shirt on.

  Holy Mother of God!

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. They were both half-dressed and alone in his office. When he reached toward her, she stuttered, “W-w-w-what do you think you’re doing?”

  His dark brow rose. “Covering you up, love.”

  Shame, thick and putrid, slammed into her. Because, for the briefest of moments, she’d thought he might want her in that way. Now, instead, her naked chest made her feel ashamed.

  “I don’t need your shirt.” She crossed her arms in front of her breasts and stubbornly refused the offer. He’d made her a laughing stock in his club.

  “Put it on. Because I sincerely doubt you’re going to like being dragged down Bourbon Street with your cleavage on display.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Especially when I still have to figure out how to make enough cash to pay rent. She was paying an in-home nurse to watch Alex, which was extra money they couldn’t do without if she didn’t make up the difference.

  He cocked his head. “Or maybe not… maybe you want to strip. Do you? Is this the life you want?”

  Sabrina flushed. Of course she didn’t want to do it. But there were a lot of things she had been forced to do in her lifetime, things she didn’t enjoy yet did them anyway because someone had to get the damn job done. If not her, then who?

  Warily, she yanked the shirt from his hands and held it against her chest. The spicy scent from his cologne engulfed her. She said raggedly, trying not to cry, “Why did you do that? I’m never going to be able to go back out there after that. After what you did.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Why do you care? You own this place,” she said, shoving her arms through his shirt and pulling the material down over her chest. The material dwarfed her body, but then again, he was a big man, who stood at least six foot two, and was powerfully built. Dante was a man who took care of his body, and likely spent hours in the gym maintaining the level of fitness he displayed.

  “I do. And you’re not a stripper, love. If you are, if that’s what you truly want to do, then I won’t stop you. But look me in the eye and tell me that it absolutely, one hundred percent is what you want to do with your life.”

  Her lower lip quivered. She pressed them together. She wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t let herself cry. She glanced away from the intensity of his gaze.

  “Can you, Sabrina?” His voice took on a patient, kind tone.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. “No.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Because her life was circling the drain and she had no other options. She had no other way to make enough money to keep a roof over their heads.

  “I need the money,” she whispered raggedly. The enormity of her failure slammed into her. They would be homeless by the end of the week. Her brother, for whom she had fought long and hard to keep his condition relatively stable, or as stable as it would ever be, would descend into madness. And it was all her fault. She couldn’t work enough, wasn’t smart enough, or educated enough to have a job that would pay her what she needed to support him.

  “Why didn’t you come to me? You know I would help you out.”

  She shook her head. It was too much; she needed too much money. This wasn’t something that could be solved with a few hundred bucks. She needed thousands, between rent and her brother’s care. He should be in an assisted living facility, but she couldn’t afford it. Sabrina had scraped by paying for an in-home nurse so that she could work. And she wasn’t financially viable enough to get a loan from a bank. She knew that because she had tried. The bank manager had all but laughed at her feeble attempt.

  “I have to get back out there. I need to earn it.” She started to rise, but Dante clamped his hands on her wrists.

  “No, love. Sorry but you won’t be taking your clothes off here.”

  “Then I’ll find another place on Bourbon Street.” She steeled her shoulders, hating the disappointment that swamped her, that made her want to curl up into a ball and weep.

  “No, you won’t. I’ll tell them I fired you for stealing, and none of them will hire you. Come on. I have something better, something you won’t need to take your clothes off for.” Dante dangled a carrot.

  What could he possibly have to offer? She had no idea but at this point, she was willing to listen. “I need to get my things.”

  “Where are they at?” he asked her.

  “In the back with the other girls, at the station they gave me to use. Why?” she asked with suspicion. Just what was the man up to?

  Before she realized what he was doing, her hands were cuffed and attached to a loop she’d not seen before on the wall above the couch. Her wrath resurfaced in a blink. “Dante, let me out of these things. What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don’t leave while I get your stuff. I’ll be back in two shakes,” he stated, rising. He strode out of his office without his shirt on, shutting the door behind him.

  They would all think she had been in here banging the boss after the way he had c
arried her out of there, only for him to head back out without his shirt on.

  “Aargh!” she screamed, and twisted, trying to yank her hands out of the cuffs, all while blinking back the flood of tears that threatened. She wasn’t going to let them fall, or let him see what this did to her. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight like hell. If she was going down, she would rather do it swinging than whimpering in a corner.

  The door to Dante’s office opened and he emerged, his arms full of her purse and clothing.

  “You son of a bitch! Let me out of these damn things and let me go!” she yelled, her internal panic rising.

  “Afraid I can’t do that, love. I think we need each other right now.”

  “Like hell we do. Let… Me… GO!” she said through clenched teeth, finding that it was far easier to bask in fury than wallow in sorrow.

  He considered her, shoving her stuff into her bag. “The cuffs look good on you. Now, I can either carry you out of here, or you can leave with me quickly and quietly. Your choice. And you’ve got ten seconds to decide, or I’ll make the choice for you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  His friendly gaze shuttered into that of a stern task master, leaving her chilled to her core. “Try me.”

  Sabrina stewed over her choices. He had her purse, which held her keys, her phone, and her damn clothes. She was chained up in his office, and he held all the cards. She doubted the police would say or stop anything if he did as he threatened.

  Still, on principle alone, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, cave to his brow beating. Her night had already been bad enough. She had failed to make the money that would keep a roof over her brother’s head. And it was all Dante’s fault. If he’d left her alone, she might have been able to get caught up on rent.

  “Screw you,” she spat.

  “Have it your way,” he replied with a deep, tired sigh, and did exactly as he’d promised.

  The only thing she hadn’t factored into her equation in thinking she might have a chance to get away from him, was that he had a reserved parking space for his big black Escalade right out the back of the club. Nor had she factored in that he was going to keep the handcuffs on her. Or that, when he got her into his vehicle, he would attach a chain to her cuffs which was connected to a loop on the floorboard.

  Sabrina knew all about his lifestyle, that he was into some pretty heavy duty kink. She cleaned his penthouse, the offices, and state-of-the-art personal gym on the fourth floor, as well as the private rooms of his exclusive kinky club. You learned a thing or two about a person when you cleaned for them. And if she was a mite intrigued by the furniture and what went on there, she ignored it, and had done so for going on two years now.

  “You’re an asshole,” she snapped as he climbed into the driver’s seat and tugged his seatbelt on.

  Dante just laughed and, with a shake of his head, said, “You’ll revise that statement before the night is over. I’ll be your fairy fucking godmother before bedtime.”

  She snorted and glanced out the passenger side window. If he was her fairy godmother, she was the Queen of England.

  Chapter 4

  Dante drove his Escalade through the streets of downtown N’Awlins intrinsically aware of his passenger, who was currently stewing in her seat. Anger radiated from every supple line of her killer body. Well, he wasn’t all that pleased with Sabrina at the moment either. After the day he’d had, she was one more messy complication.

  But perhaps a necessary one that would end up being a gift from the heavens.

  Sabrina had been cleaning for him and Michael for two years. In all the time he had known her, he had kept Sabrina at arm’s length, as he did with all his employees. He maintained a strict hands-off policy with people who worked for him. No dipping his wick in the company ink, not for him or for Michael. That way led to ruin.

  But that didn’t mean he’d not been aware of her. Sabrina was all woman: curvy, petite and, to his mind, downright fuckable with her tiny waist and slender legs. She had really great legs.

  And he’d felt like he had been hit upside the head with a frying pan when he spied her on stage at Bayou Sin. Deep down, he’d known she would be splendid without clothes on. But he hadn’t been prepared for the golden goddess, her high, firm breasts swaying, her pale rose nipples which were perfectly formed and should be adorned with clamps, and the expanse of sun-kissed, smooth skin that glowed beneath the spotlight.

  He’d been hard the moment his gaze landed on her. And rage unlike anything he had ever felt before surfaced.

  Dante was not averse to female flesh, nor to women displaying their wares. Hell, he’d built the best strip joint on one of the busiest party streets in the world around that enterprise. But when he’d spotted Sabrina on the stage, he’d experienced a wave of protectiveness and an urgent need to shield her, to blind any man who sat in his club, leering at her, with a vicious possessiveness he had never felt for a woman before. And it was all because, staring at her golden splendor, he had imagined what it would be like to suck on her succulent tits for hours, and feel her writhing beneath him.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked with a hint of fear in her voice.

  “She speaks.” He hated her fear. The fact that she didn’t know he would cut off both his hands before he’d hurt her.

  “Dante, I’m serious. This is ridiculous. Why did you take me off the stage like that? What business is it of yours if I decide to make a buck taking my clothes off? And stop dodging the questions, where are we going?”

  “It’s not the place for you.”

  “Then I’ll find another one. I don’t see you having an issue with all the other women who work at your club.”

  “Sabrina, like I said before, I will ensure none of the other strip clubs hire you. I know all the owners. And we’re heading to the penthouse.” Some of the strip club owners didn’t have his hands-off policy, and liked to sample the merchandise. Like hell would Dante allow her anywhere near those joints.

  “Why? Am I that unattractive? I realize I might have been a little unschooled, but that’s no reason for you to do what you did back there.”

  He heard the uncertainty and insecurity that she tried to hide behind her bluster. It made him soften: her display of bravery when the quiver in her voice spoke to the contrary. “Love, if I thought for one second that stripping was for you then I wouldn’t have interfered. But you forget, I know you well enough to know that it’s not the life for you.”

  “You can’t know that. Just because I clean for you, doesn’t mean you know me.” She huffed.

  He threw his vehicle into park in his space in the enclosed, private parking garage. “I do, more than you realize. You’re kind, thoughtful, and a hard worker. But stripping is not for you.”

  And that, he figured, was that on the subject matter. They had more pressing things to deal with, and he did believe they could help one another out. He rounded his Escalade and opened the passenger door. Unhooking her cuffs from the chain, he helped her out.

  “So I’m not good looking enough, is that it? You couldn’t have just told me that after I finished, and let me walk away with a smidgeon of dignity?” she stated mutinously after he shut the door.

  It was the sheen of tears lining her lashes that did it. Gripping the cuffs with one hand, he yanked her bound hands above her head and, with his body, pressed her back against the vehicle. Her eyes widened, her bottom lip trembled.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, love. Every single man in Bayou tonight wanted to fuck you the moment they spied you, myself included,” Dante growled.

  She rolled her eyes as if she didn’t believe him.

  “Don’t believe me? I’ll show you.” He fisted his free hand in the wealth of her silken golden tresses, tipped her head back, and crushed his lips over hers. Dante planned on kissing her quickly, just to prove his point. He wasn’t an inexperienced youth with his first woman, but a well-seasoned Master known for his control.

&n
bsp; Yet he hadn’t expected her plump lips to taste quite so sweet, or anticipated what the sound of her moaned gasp would do to his system. It tripped all the wires in his brain that allowed him to maintain control, and unleashed every single one of his primal urges. She whimpered against him as he slanted his mouth and demanded her surrender.

  He ravaged her lips—thrust his tongue inside, and stroked the inner contours of her mouth in a kiss that evolved into a torrid mating of tongues and lips. He pressed his hips against her, letting her feel the full impact of his arousal. Dante hadn’t been lying. The moment he had spotted her on stage in nothing but the itty-bitty shorts she was still wearing beneath his shirt, he’d wanted to drag her off stage into the nearest corner, and sink himself inside her flesh.

  It had only been his stalwart control that had kept him from doing the latter.

  Mine. The drumbeat sounded in his blood.

  Dante tore his mouth away from Sabrina’s. If he kept this up, he would fuck her in the parking garage. And that was not the reason he’d brought her there tonight.

  The wide-eyed wonder combined with the innocent hunger in her eyes almost made him reconsider.

  “Don’t ever think for one second that you’re unattractive. Because I think you’re fucking gorgeous. Always have. And if you think for one moment that if I didn’t need you for something else, I wouldn’t be availing myself of your delightful body and fucking you until you couldn’t walk, then you’re not as smart as I believe you to be.”

  Shocked arousal covered her features. Her bottom-heavy mouth was swollen from the exchange, and her Kelly-green gaze dark with desire. And Christ, but he wanted to nibble on that full bottom lip. He hadn’t lied about that, either. She was drop dead gorgeous. High cheekbones like razorblades. Smooth, creamy skin with a hint of sun-kissed golden dew. Big, verdant green eyes a man could drown within, framed by inky lashes. His gaze dipped lower and spied the beaded points of her nipples pressing against the dark material of his shirt.