Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5)

by Jessica Hawkins

  The music hit Lola before anything. On the main stage of the dark club was a half-naked woman who looked in her early forties. On her palms and knees, she snaked toward an outstretched, dollar-waving hand.

  Across the room, Beau talked to a bartender. Even though it’d been eight years since she’d left, Lola turned away in case anyone she knew still worked there.

  A few moments later, Beau closed in on her back. “It’s not top-dollar bourbon,” he said, reaching around to hold the glass in front of her, “but it’ll do.”

  She stared at the drink but didn’t take it.

  “What do you think of her?” he asked about the woman on the main stage. “Personally, she’s not my type. She wouldn’t get any of my dollars. Not like you.”

  Lola turned her head from the woman. “It doesn’t do anything for me,” Lola said. “I think we should go.”

  Beau took her chin with his other hand and forced her to look back at the stage. “We’re not going anywhere. Does this make you hot?”

  She wrestled her face away. “No.”

  “It will,” he said. “Come with me.”

  Chapter 11

  Lights lasered through the dark strip club in every direction. Women danced on small podiums set apart from the main stage. The music was loud, but Lola wished it were deafening so she wouldn’t have to hear her thoughts. She’d gone from a prize on Beau’s arm to trailing behind him with her head down to hide her face.

  She’d danced for men like Beau before, men who liked to flaunt that they had money to burn. She’d been most careful around that type. When she danced, music lived in her. It was intoxicating. Men could tell, and it was dangerous for them to believe they had that kind of effect on a woman.

  Beau led her down a hallway of doors. If one was open, the lights were on, and it was chipped-paint black inside with just a pole and some scattered chairs.

  He stopped at the last room. “Here we are, my queen.”

  “Why are we here?” She controlled the impulse to fidget by crossing her arms.

  Beau gestured inside. “Go on. I warned you not everything would be comfortable.”

  It was the VIP room. The round stage, centered in a round room, ensured a view from every angle. One pole cut through the middle. Red velvet walls bled into Bordeaux-colored sofas that lined the space. The bass of the music from the main stage thumped through the room.

  Lola looked over her shoulder. A woman in only a shiny gold thong and pasties over her nipples came in. Numerous metallic ribbons threaded her hair. She trailed a finger down Beau’s shoulder. “Good evening, sir,” she said. “I’m Golden.”

  “And I’m Angel.” Another woman stepped into the room. Her fur-lined, white baby-doll negligee matched her G-string. She placed a headband with red horns over her blonde hair. “Or Devil,” she said pleasantly. “Your choice.” Lola didn’t recognize either of them.

  Beau crossed the room and fell into a sofa. He tugged on his collar a little. Golden pushed some buttons on a keypad and the room changed to fiery pink as the music started. A spotlight shone over the stage.

  Angel danced first. Beau watched her spin around the pole, her negligee billowing to reveal a flat stomach. She landed with ease on towering heels and smiled at him. He remained impassive.

  The lights changed from pink to deep purple. Golden sat next to Beau and whispered in his ear. He nodded. Lola stood motionless while Golden straddled Beau, hovering her lips above his as she danced for him. The room was blue now, turning the red velvet a blood-black color. Beau looked past Golden to Angel when she bent, touched her toes and displayed her barely-there underwear for him. His eyes shifted to Lola. “Join me.”

  She shook her head. Watching him with another woman did nothing for her except spark some disappointment. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might involve anyone else in their evening.

  “It’s not a request,” he said.

  Lola went to sit by him. Golden’s breasts nearly touched his cheek with each movement.

  “Are you enjoying this?” he asked.

  “Why would you pay for an evening with me just to watch them?”

  “I’m still with you.” He leaned over and kissed her harder than he had earlier. When she jerked back, he reached up to keep her there. His lips and hand were warm. Pulling away had been instinct, but they’d be doing far more soon. Her jaw and shoulders relaxed. For now, it was just a kiss.

  “It’s sweet,” he whispered into her mouth, “the taste of your submission.” He pecked her again and looked up. “Touch her.”

  Lola had momentarily forgotten about the other women. Golden’s fingers were soft as she combed Lola’s hair away from her face.

  “Have you ever been with a woman?” Beau asked.

  “Once. To try.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Not enough to do it again.”

  Golden ran a knuckle down Lola’s cheek. She traced her way down the strap of Lola’s dress to the neckline, but Beau grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

  She dropped her arm to her side. Angel worked the pole, sliding over it as if it were silk against her skin, possessing it with her legs and hands. The white fabric of her top shone under the spotlight as she peeled it off. She stopped there. The topless-only rule hadn’t changed since Lola’s time there.

  “Kiss,” Beau said.

  Lola snapped her head back to Beau. He was watching her, not Angel. The room became hotter. He nodded once. Golden leaned over and put her mouth to Lola’s. Gently, she ran her tongue along Lola’s bottom lip.

  Lola backed away a little. Beau had left the taste of liquor in her mouth. The woman’s cherry lip balm would replace it. Any other night she might’ve preferred the cherry, but tonight she wanted Beau’s bitter flavor. Golden chased her down for another kiss as she felt Lola’s breast through her dress. Lola shut her eyes briefly and gave into the shameful desire that it was actually Beau touching her.

  “Beau,” Lola moaned, not because she enjoyed it, but because she didn’t.

  “Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he said.

  Golden tweaked Lola’s nipples into hardening.

  “If you don’t like it,” he said, “just say so.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Enough,” Beau said. Golden pulled away, obviously confused.

  “Now you, Lola,” he said when the song changed. He signaled Angel to get down.

  “But—”

  “It’s not up for discussion.”

  “Ask them to leave,” Lola said. “If I dance, it’s only for you.”

  Beau’s lids lowered a little, but he blinked suddenly and the lusty look was gone. “How many times do I need to ask before you do what I say? Hmm? You challenge me at every turn. Get up on the stage and dance.”

  She stood.

  “Now tell me why you’re doing this,” he said.

  She opened her mouth, breathed softly. With the hardness in his voice, her determination not to enjoy herself slipped. He already had all the power, but he wanted more. With each passing hour, he pushed the limits of her submission. Not even Johnny held that kind of complete control over her.

  “Why?” he repeated.

  “Because you told me to.”

  “Very good.”

  She climbed onto the platform. The spotlight and room had turned red.

  “You get paid either way,” Beau said. “So try to enjoy it.”

  With one hand around the pole, Lola circled the stage. The gown would inhibit her, but she got the feeling Beau wouldn’t mind. The music was fast. She found a slower beat within it. She jumped, grabbed on and spun with one leg partially hooked around the pole. Angel and Golden sat on both sides of Beau. He was unblinking, unwavering in his attention. Even in the red haze, she saw the gleam in his eyes, the black shape of his bowtie. Her body rattled like a speaker with the music’s bass.

  Facing Beau, she raised her arms behind her. She snaked down the metal, cool through the back of her dress,
and back up. Beau stood suddenly and walked to the base of the stage. He took her calf and pressed his lips to the inside of her knee. His mouth left wet spots on her dress as he kissed up her thigh to her hip. He gripped her, nuzzling the fabric between her legs.

  Lola’s breaths swelled from her stomach. She felt him—felt him there—acutely for the first time. God, it was unfair. He’d barely touched her and her will to fight him dissolved in seconds. She put one hand in his hair and pulled it with all the betrayal, shame and arousal she felt.

  He looked up at her.

  “Touching’s not permitted in here,” she said.

  His smile was more than just crooked and sexy. For all her effort to hide, that smile told her he knew he had her. He turned and cleared both women from the room with a word.

  He backed away to the sofa, and this time, Lola went to him. She pulled her dress up around her thighs. One knee went outside his hip and one stayed between his legs. She held on to the cushion behind his head. She was careful not to touch him as she danced over his lap, but now and then her skin would brush against the fabric of his tuxedo pants. When he looked as though he might touch her, she got up, pushed his knees apart. She let her hands wander over her body as she swayed her hips. She dipped a hand between her legs and slid the other up her neck.

  Beau reached for her, but she stepped back and shook her head. “You can’t—”

  “Come back here.” His level tone left no room for play. “Don’t deny me when I’m like this.”

  When she was back at his knees, he took her wrist in one hand. “Kneel.”

  She got on the floor.

  “You’re all red,” he said.

  “It’s the lighting.”

  “No, it isn’t. You’re hot.” He let go of her and pressed his cold tumbler to the side of her neck. She sucked in a breath with the chill. Condensation trickled between her breasts. He lifted the glass to her lips. She tilted her head back and let the liquor run down her throat.

  He set the drink aside and nodded at his lap. “Take it out,” he said quietly.

  This was it. This was why she was here. She had wondered several times what exactly lay under his suit, what was the source of his unshakeable confidence—now she would know for sure. Hold it in her hand.

  Her fingers were slow and shaky as she undid his fly. He lifted his hips for her to pull his pants down. Through his underwear, she pressed her palm against the bulging outline of him. His head fell back. She lifted the ends of his dress shirt, dragging her fingertips up the hard crevices of his stomach. His body expanded with each breath.

  “Don’t tease me, Lola,” he said. “I want your red lips on me.”

  There was new desperation in his voice that made Lola ache badly for him. And this deal—this promise—she’d already made it. Johnny, even, had made it. So she put a bullet through her guilt and gave Beau what he wanted.

  She pulled him out, looking into his eyes while she took him in her mouth. He fisted her hair, then stroked it, then pulled it again. He thrust up, hitting the back of her throat. She tried to taste even more, wanting him deeper, wanting him to the last inch, but still he was too much, every bit as big and daunting as she’d suspected.

  “Your mouth alone could ruin me.” She paused, unsure how he’d meant that, but he kept her going with a hand on her head. “Don’t stop,” he said. “I want to be ruined.”

  With her tongue, she traced him—the ridge of his head, the veins of his thick shaft.

  “You’re driving me to the edge,” he said. “I don’t know whether to come, or bend you over and finally take you.”

  She became ravenous from his rumbling, suggestive words. He responded, pushing her down so he was crammed to her throat with every bob of her head. Her underwear dampened with the way he thoroughly fucked her mouth. With both his hands tight in her hair, he came. She gripped the red velvet cushion and swallowed everything.

  There was calm in the eye of the chaos, in the labored breaths, the pounding music, the room, which had turned pink again sometime during it all. But while they looked at each other, anything else, including the regret she thought she should feel, faded into the background.

  On impulse, Lola stretched up and kissed him on the mouth. He wouldn’t lower his head to meet her or move his arms from his sides. She pressed her hands down on his thighs, her breasts into his wall of a chest. His body breathed beneath her.

  “How’d you know?” she asked. “How did you know I’d react like this?”

  He seemed to stiffen under her. “It’s not even midnight,” he said. “We aren’t finished.”

  “I know.”

  He touched her cheek with his whole palm. “You’re burning up.”

  She bit her lip. She could feel it too. “It’s a good thing.”

  He helped her to her feet, and they left the room while it was blue.

  “You’re supposed to tip them,” Lola remembered once they were outside again.

  “It’s taken care of. They won’t be millionaires after this, but they’ve been well compensated.”

  “Millionaire,” she repeated to herself. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it, and it’d be a while before she could. After tonight, she’d be a millionaire and all this would be over. The thought didn’t give her as much comfort as it once had.

  In the car, driving down Sunset at a much easier speed, Beau asked Lola what she planned to do with the money.

  “You already know,” she answered. “We’re buying Hey Joe.”

  “I know what he wants. But what about you? You’re the one doing all the work.”

  Lola balked. “It makes me feel cheap when you say that.”

  “Believe me, sweetheart. You aren’t cheap.”

  She shook her head and sighed up at the Lamborghini’s roof. “I want us to be happy and have a shot at a real future.”

  “But what do you want for yourself?”

  “That’s what I want. Making Johnny happy makes me happy.”

  “Fine. Everybody’s happy. Now give me something real. A new car? A trip to New York City? What’re you going to do for yourself?”

  “To tell you the truth, I haven’t given it much thought. I’m okay with what I’ve got.”

  “Slinging drinks is what you want to do forever? Haven’t you ever asked yourself what you’d do if money weren’t an issue? You have some freedom now.”

  “Not until the sun comes up,” Lola said.

  Beau scoffed. “I’m glad to see one blowjob hasn’t killed your spirit.”

  What a blowjob it’d been. Lola was incredibly turned on, and she’d barely even been touched. She made an effort to control herself, even though she squirmed in her seat a little. “What do you want me to say? That I love to paint landscapes, or I’ve always dreamed of backpacking through Europe? I don’t and I haven’t. Not everyone has hobbies or dreams. That’s not the kind of life I live.”

  Beau slammed on the brakes. The car behind them swerved and honked. “So tell me what kind of life you live.”

  “What are you doing?” Lola asked. “You can’t just stop in the middle of the road.”

  “Conventional methods aren’t working,” he said. “I don’t want platitudes. Just give me a real answer.”

  “Are you drunk?” Lola asked. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t even finish my drink. I want to know more about the girl I played darts with. Who you are when he’s not around.”

  Lola shook her head. “You’re getting sentimental on me just because I let you come in my mouth?”

  Beau barked a laugh. “Can you blame me? You’re so charming.”

  She smiled through the honking of passing cars. “You’re really going to stay here?”

  He nodded. “Here’s an easier question. Tell me something you don’t want out of life.”

  She squinted through the windshield. It was an easier question, and even though she’d never articulated it, the answer didn’t come with difficultly. “I d
on’t want Johnny to lose his sense of self-worth along with the bar. I was afraid if he didn’t have Hey Joe, he’d have to start over somewhere else, and he’d feel like he’d failed.”

  “Failure’s good for us, you know.”

  She looked over at him. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have taken the deal?”

  “I’m saying you can’t be the sacrifice for the fulfillment of his dreams.” He took his foot off the brake and resumed driving. “When he asked what you wanted to do with the money, what’d you say?”

  Lola chewed the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure Johnny had asked. There’d never been any other option. She was using the money to keep them intact. Johnny knew the ins and outs of Hey Joe. He was master of that domain. Maybe it wasn’t her dream job, but she’d never had a dream job—so she wasn’t losing anything. Only, Beau seemed to think there was more to it, and now she wondered if there was. “You’ve made your point.”

  “You need to figure out what you want,” he said. “Not what you want for him. Then you need to tell him.”

  “I don’t know if you’re right,” she said, “but you might not be wrong.”

  He pulsed his eyebrows at her once. “That’s a start. So what would it take to get you to figure it out?”

  They happened to be in a familiar part of town. Giving in to Beau had loosened her up a bit, and he was working hard to shine his spotlight on her, so she decided to help him out by moving under it a little more. “How about a trip down memory lane?”

  “What’d you have in mind?” he asked right away.

  She pointed in front of them. “Take a right up here.” After only a few minutes of driving, she told him to park at a curb. “See that place?” she asked, nodding through the window.

  “The Lucky Egg,” Beau read the flickering sign off the corner diner.

  “When I was a kid, my mom worked there. Days and nights. The life of a single mom.”

  “Where was your dad?”

  “Gone. I don’t have a lot of memories of him. I remember weird things, though, like the smell of his shampoo when he’d pick me up before leaving for work, or the time he kissed my elbow after I’d fallen climbing a tree in the backyard. Then it was just me and her.”