by Quinn, Cari
Her chin came up, and for a moment, she reminded me of her older sister. Normally I couldn’t see any resemblance at all between her and Mia. Where Mia was hard and lean, Carly was lush and soft. She was also much more dangerous to me, though Mia tended to view me as something she’d like to pound into dust with her bare hands.
I’d seen the girl fight. She’d probably pull off a pretty good attempt.
Carly, on the other hand, examined me as if I was her chosen meal, and her eyes were a direct conduit to her stomach. Hunger lined her lovely features, making her mouth slack and her eyes glossy. She wasn’t shy about it either. She had no intention of denying what she wanted from me.
If I was the only thing standing between her and impropriety, she was fucked. Just like she clearly craved to be.
“The bouncer let me in, same as anyone else.” Her chin inched higher. “I didn’t even have to pay.”
I swore under my breath in Italian. “What did you offer him, tesoro?”
Twin flags of color appeared in her pale cheeks. With my hand just above her head on the wall, the difference in our skin tones illustrated the stark separation between us. She was light, I was dark. Even her flesh knew what side of the fence she belonged on.
“I didn’t offer him anything. He just assumed I was a dancer, because…” She trailed off and my fist tightened.
“Because of these?” I hooked a finger in the V-neck of her shirt and pulled just enough to make her flush descend to her cleavage. She wasn’t a blonde or a redhead but a combination of the two, and her innocence transmitted easily to her face. “I imagine you use these to get your way often.”
Truthfully, I didn’t want to imagine that at all. I hoped she stayed in at night and didn’t attract trouble. But her presence at the club suggested otherwise, as did her relentless insistence on pursuing me. Even if I had encouraged it at first, at least I’d wised up.
I didn’t have room in my life for women. Or girls. Carly was barely an adult, still teetering on that line, and I wasn’t about to help her over. My days of corrupting young, sweet girls were through. Now I fucked females who knew what they were getting into with me and didn’t expect me to call afterward.
My focus in life was far removed from pussy. One didn’t exist capable of diverting me from the path I’d set. Nothing was more important that avenging Emilia. Momentary pleasure didn’t even rate.
“I didn’t use anything.” She shoved my hand away. “I didn’t even know what kind of club this was. The bouncer just looked at me and assumed.”
“Uh-huh. He assumed because you’re wearing a titty shirt and a skirt nearly short enough to show off your pussy.” Her pupils dilated and I leaned closer, deliberately crowding her. I’d tried to gently indulge her crush on me before tonight. Now it had entered dangerous distraction territory, and I’d shove her away from me through whatever means necessary. “You wearing panties, sweetheart? Could he smell you?” I turned my face against her thick, wavy hair and took a long sniff. “Mmm.”
I waited for her to shove me again, possibly combined with an inventive string of curse words worthy of her older sister. Instead she pressed her cheek closer to mine and slid her shapely leg up the outside of my thigh, revealing her curves right up to her string bikini panties.
Pink. Of course they were goddamn pink. A few shades darker than the hue of her pussy, at least until I put my mouth on it. I’d do that first. Just spread her legs, bend my knees, and suck her right between my teeth until her tight little clit vibrated against my tongue.
“I didn’t realize that was protocol here,” she murmured, and somehow her voice wasn’t shaky but aroused. I was on the verge of trembling myself, and she’d gone to steel right in front of me.
Not her body. Oh no. That softly undulated against mine, her lush body as pliant as a wish. I could have her here, just unzip my pants and find her hot and waiting for me. She’d let me. Fuck, she’d beg me.
“Next time I’ll be prepared,” she said next to my mouth, her breath mixing with mine until I had to haul in air before I ran out. Even then, I smelled her. Fresh like a bouquet of flowers. Clean. Pristine.
Unfit to even be in the vicinity of a man like me.
Shit, she was so goddamn close. We were a heartbeat apart. Barely even that. Her lips opened, her tongue curling upward to invite me inside.
Take. Just take.
But dammit, I couldn’t. Not only because it was Carly, and she was the loveliest, most perfect, untouched gift I’d been offered since Emilia—
Emilia’s name acted as a bucket of cold water to my libido. To my racing heart. Expelling a harsh breath, I grabbed Carly’s leg and dropped it to the ground, only dimly aware of her open-toed sandals. More pink. Sweet like she was.
Is.
I wouldn’t let her interaction with me change that. I also wouldn’t allow her to spend one more minute than necessary in this place. She didn’t belong here. If her sister had any clue where she was, she’d kill me—and she’d be right. Carly had a bright future. For God’s sake, she wanted to be a chef. The men here would eat her alive for the price of a bottle of champagne.
I wasn’t much better, because I wanted to do it for free.
The only way I could keep her safe—from me, from all of them—was to scare some sense into her. She was a smart girl. A good one at that. If I found the right button to push, she’d walk away. I’d have done my good deed, and it wouldn’t matter if I dealt with a case of blue balls and a sense of regret that had no place here.
She wasn’t for me. My past had ensured that.
“You came here to dance, did you? Shake your tits for a few dollars, maybe? That’d be a great way to make some extra change.” I dropped my gaze to her breasts, heaving against her snug Stones shirt. I took my time studying them, hoping she’d feel degraded enough to leave of her own volition. When she didn’t move, I smiled and lifted my head, pretending I hadn’t noticed how her nipples had puckered more under my perusal. “If that’s the case, let me introduce you to some of my friends.”
Hating myself even while I told myself I was doing the right thing, I grabbed her arm—careful not to pinch too hard—and dragged her up the hall back into the thick of the action. Red strobe lights swung everywhere, casting faces a demonic shade. Carly was fighting me now, elbowing me, trying her best to get away. I wanted her gone, but I couldn’t trust she’d stay that way unless I drove home a message she’d never be able to forget.
Barely dressed women swarmed the lounge area, bending to serve men who tucked money into pockets and bras with equal regularity. Onstage across the room, a pair of girls shook their asses through their routines as a Jay-Z song blasted from the speakers. They were topless, and as the crowd nearest the stage began to holler, they began to kiss, their arms twining around each other’s necks while their lips roamed.
Beside me, Carly grew stiff, her eyes enlarging until her pupils disappeared. She jerked out of my grip and turned away, but I clasped her chin and turned her toward the stage, making her watch while she quivered in my hold.
“This is what you’ll find here. Have you ever thought of being with a woman, tesoro?” I didn’t mean to keep calling her that, but it slipped out the same way my mouth rubbed over her hair without any directive from my brain. With her this close, I couldn’t seem to turn off my impulses to touch her in all the ways I’d imagined over these past few months. “Is that why you didn’t turn around when you saw me come into this place? You wanted to know what it was like?”
She jabbed her fist into my gut so swiftly that I actually grunted. I backed up just enough to give her the room to stomp on my instep with all the fury that burned on her gorgeous face. “You sick fuck. I wanted a date. Just a date. You owed me. Remember?”
I rubbed my stomach, eyeing her with new respect. For an instant, soft, sweet Carly had done a damn decent imitation of her older, rougher sister. Mia must’ve taught her some self-defense moves. Good. I was glad. She needed to be armed to prot
ect herself, especially if she intended to hang out in places like this.
Which she wouldn’t. I wouldn’t allow it. I’d stop her, no matter what it took.
“I owe you nothing,” I said quietly, wondering if she could even hear me over the pumping music and teeming laughter. We were surrounded on all sides by people, and their nearness only forced us closer together. Her breasts pressed against my chest and her thighs rubbed against mine, tempting me even as her eyes and mouth remained silently judgmental.
That’s what I wanted. Her judging me, then finding me lacking. Because I was. I’d never again be good enough for the likes of her.
Someone bumped her from behind and she swayed into me, her expression changing at the erection she felt nudging her belly. Darkening. Her mouth opened and snapped closed, whatever words she’d wanted to say dying away.
That was just fine. I had enough to say for the both of us.
“Oh, and that date?” I tipped up her chin and smudged my thumb over the faint indent. She was a mixture of features that didn’t seem to go together. Dimples, cleft chin. Worry lines bracketed eyes that appeared as guileless as a summer day. “It was offered as a condition for fighting Mia. It didn’t happen, so no date. No anything.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t mess around with little girls, pet.” Condescension dripped from my words, my smile. “I’m sorry.”
Turning away from her, I aimed my smile at one of the waitress/dancers, one that had tried to get my attention more than once. Since I came to the club to see and be seen by the powerful men who would lead me to Roberto Andretti’s deceitful doorstep, I hadn’t reciprocated in kind.
Now she would work perfectly for what I had in mind.
I leaned close to her and cupped her cheek, deliberately touching her the same way I’d just touched Carly. “Meet me in the third VIP room. Five minutes.”
She nodded eagerly, her bright smile belying the dimness in her eyes. I hated seeing that look on the dancers’ faces, hated more that I’d been the cause of it for even a moment. This was soul-crushing work, and if most of the men here didn’t notice or care, that was on them. I would never be so shallow or careless. Getting my dick sucked wasn’t worth diminishing another human being, even if she pretended it wasn’t occurring.
Except when it came to Carly, and making sure she got gone. I’d do whatever that required.
I turned back to Carly, expecting for her to have disappeared. Instead she watched me with slitted eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. She was breathing too fast, but she wasn’t walking away.
Christ. This woman.
“You intending on sticking around? I never mind an audience.” Deliberately, I lowered my hand to my crotch and gave it a slow rub. She didn’t balk, didn’t so much as flutter her thick dark lashes. Just watched.
And waited.
I swore again under my breath and pivoted to head up the spiral staircase that hugged one side of the main room of the club. Murals of writhing, naked bodies decorated the wall beside the stairs, adding one more layer to the lascivious atmosphere. It was the kind of place eighteen-year-old me wouldn’t have dreamed stepping into. Back then I’d been into flowers, and a girl who giggled when I pinned daisies in her hair. Who lifted her face up to mine for a chaste kiss without closing her eyes.
A girl way too much like Carly for comfort. And goddammit, I wouldn’t watch Carly be destructed in the same manner. I wouldn’t allow her to be tainted by her want for me like Emilia had been.
I walked down the long hallway that overlooked the first floor. The vantage gave a bird’s eye view of the women tangled together onstage. One of them had stripped down to a G-string, and her oiled body shimmied against the other woman’s with enough eagerness to make the crowd cheer.
Swallowing my distaste, I turned away and pushed open the door to VIP room number three.
This wasn’t my scene. Had never been my scene. That boy who liked flowers still lived inside me, and he was horrified at the man I’d become. The man I’d willfully molded myself into. But Emilia was worth everything.
It wasn’t revenge if you were just evening the score.
Thankfully the room was empty, though it wouldn’t have stopped me if it wasn’t. I would’ve paid the occupants to let me share the space with them. If it worked to send Carly running, it was worth it. And hell, my dick was hard. I was human. A pretty strawberry-blonde rubbing all over me with lust in her eyes was enough to get me going just like any other man. This particular strawberry-blonde affected me in ways I had to put a stop to.
This should do it.
Leaving the door cracked, I walked inside. Sconces on the wall offered scant light. A long leather sectional curved along one side of the room, offset with glass-topped tables with flickering candles. Across the space sat a daybed, made with plump pillows that no one would notice. This room was used for not-so-discreet fucks or variations thereof, and no one cared about ambience.
That ridiculous boy inside me would scoff at that, just as he felt disgust at all the rest.
I sat at one end of the sectional and spread my arms along the back just like I spread my legs. I’d been in this room before, for meetings and more. I wasn’t a saint. No longer a saint anyway. In my current milieu, the more tarnish, the better.
The waitress from downstairs slipped into the room and knelt between my knees. I cast a glance at the door, wanting to make sure I wasn’t doing this for nothing. Knowing full well she would follow, because she’d followed me from Brooklyn to Hell’s Kitchen. She wouldn’t go home unless she didn’t have any other choice.
She wasn’t there.
A part of me was relieved. Grateful even. I didn’t want her to see this. She shouldn’t be touched by any of it. But she wanted to suck down any experiences she could, and if she got a nasty enough gulp tonight, maybe she wouldn’t return.
I’d staked my hopes on bets with worse odds.
On the off chance Carly was still out there just beyond the scope of my vision, I gestured to the zipper barely containing my bulging cock, playing the king routine to full effect.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked, low enough that Carly or any voyeuristic types couldn’t hear. This moment would be just for us. A moment to smooth over what I could barely stomach.
Women weren’t meant to be used. Especially ones with sad dark eyes.
“Brenda,” the waitress whispered, appearing almost taken aback by the question.
“May I call you Bren?”
She nodded, her lips trembling open around her assent. “Sure.”
“Bren, please take me out now.”
She didn’t have to be asked twice. Eagerly, she fumbled my dick out of my jeans, her sexy, practiced smile covering her instant of surprise and insecurity. She probably wouldn’t enjoy this any more than I would, but we both knew how to play the game.
It was all I had left.
Carly
Nausea coated my throat. I lingered outside the VIP room just long enough to see the brunette waitress/stripper/lap dance girl undo Giovanni’s pants. Her hand dipped inside and she made a purring noise that reached me even a few feet away. I whirled around to grip the railing that ringed the upper level before I could glimpse his cock.
I didn’t want to see it. Not like this.
I wasn’t a virgin. I’d had a couple of lovers back when I lived with my Aunt Patty in upstate New York, after Mia had moved to the city to start her life as an adult. High school boys that hadn’t rocked my world, but had gotten the job done with various degrees of success. Since I’d been in the city, I’d fooled around with a guy or two as well. Never going past second base. Always thinking about the one man I would never have.
He’d laughed at me tonight when I’d mentioned the date that had fueled my fantasies for months. He’d pushed for it, after all. Mia certainly hadn’t. She’d done everything in her power to ensure I stayed away from him, and in the end, the strongest deterrent had been Giovanni himself.
But I
wasn’t stupid. Growing up as fast as I had after the situation with my sister, I knew not to take things at face value. For two months, he had treated me with the utmost care. He’d behaved as a complete gentlemen even when I’d pushed the boundaries of flirting. I’d teased him, I’d worn my most revealing clothes and tempted him with baked goods—and my goods of the flesh. He’d flattered me with compliments and gifted me with those sexy smiles of his, but he hadn’t so much as uttered a dirty word in my general vicinity.
Tonight he’d gone all porn-soundtrack-in-training, and I wasn’t buying it. He was trying to chase me away on purpose.
This wasn’t about him not wanting me. This was about him wanting me too much, and not thinking he should for some reason. Why, was the question.
He wasn’t scared of my sister—or for that matter, her soldier-at-arms, Fox. The fact that my sister didn’t want him near me probably wouldn’t have given him more than a moment’s pause. Heck, it might’ve even increased my attractiveness in his eyes. He was known as a fighter who eagerly, gleefully broke the rules. Yet Mia and her snarls would run him off?
Not frigging likely.
There was more. So much more, and I needed to figure out what.
Stomach churning, I stared down at the main level. Two women were working the pole in tandem to the bass-heavy R&B music that was playing, and the crowd was eating it up. Money was scattered across the stage, an offering to the naked gods.
I’d never seen more horny men in one place. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d been missing much. The whole place made me uncomfortable. My skin prickled with a low-grade flush. Or maybe it wasn’t low-grade. Thank God I didn’t have a mirror to check out how bad the damage was.
I still couldn’t believe I was here.
My eyes narrowed as a cage lowered from the vaulted ceiling on the other side of the room. That offered a brief distraction from the stage. The woman within twisted and gyrated, the recipient of the money the men shoved through the bars. Those dollars touched more of her skin than the guys’ hands did.
