Brutal Sin

by Eden Summers

  She stepped forward, straightening her shoulders. Women really needed to get a clue that thrusting their breasts didn’t work in their favor. It only made men feel like they’d scored a triple-point bonus during battle.

  “Let me assure you,” she spat, “I’m not interested in either. In fact, if you were the last man on Earth, I’m pretty sure I’d start fucking livestock to get my kicks just so I didn’t have to deal with your bullshit attitude.” Her mouth remained open, gaping a little.

  Yeah, sweetheart, your diatribe did include a reference to bestiality.

  “Good to know.” His lips kicked into a smile, and the flare of her nostrils announced she didn’t appreciate it.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  No, it wasn’t. Apart from the enjoyment he received from her annoyance, this wasn’t funny at all. He didn’t like having his enjoyment of the Vault washed out from underneath him by disrespectful women. He didn’t like being railroaded. And he certainly didn’t like the reminder that he had a family back in Tampa, ignoring his existence. “No, you’re right. After the day I’ve had, your lack of interest is a fucking relief.”

  “Well,” she grated, walking away, “I’m glad I could ease the tension.”

  He didn’t follow this time. The nagging throb in his chest increased. It wasn’t his fault she’d been caught in the line of fire earlier. She’d been collateral damage. A tiny blip on the casualty radar.

  All he’d done was announce his disinterest. Loudly. While deliberately drawing the attention of other club patrons.

  Fuck.

  “I had a shit of a day, okay? I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  She froze, her back still turned. “Was that an apology?”

  If it was, it was a shitty one, but coming from him, it was the holy grail of remorse. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”

  She released a sardonic laugh and pounded out the distance to the end of the building.

  The ache beneath his ribs grew, demanding more. More what? He didn’t know.

  “Look, I shouldn’t have directed my rant at you.” He jogged to catch up, chasing the wanted distraction.

  “So you don’t regret what you said, just that you included me in it?” She approached the line of cars and slipped between a polished SUV and T.J.’s new BMW.

  “Hell, no, I don’t regret it. It was a long time coming.” He followed her into the small space and stopped a foot away, at the start of her door. “You don’t think I have a right to tell women to back off? If it was your private number being distributed around the club and guys started texting at all hours, asking to hook up, while also sending unsolicited dick pics, I’d make sure those fuckers never stepped foot in the club again. Yet, when it happens to me, I’m supposed to be happy about it? Come on. Cut me a break. I enjoy unwanted attention as much as you do.”

  She opened her door and he retreated a step, not realizing how close they’d become.

  “Tell me, Ella. Don’t I deserve a break in my own club, or do you think I should keep letting it slide?” He wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical. The only thing he was aware of was the unfamiliar need to keep the conversation going. “Should I keep rejecting the same women over and over again every time I enter the Vault, even though they already know the score?”

  “How do they know the score?” Her voice softened, the bitter edge of spite seeping away.

  “I always make it clear I don’t sleep with the same woman twice. I never leave any doubt.” That hadn’t changed since the first night the Vault doors had opened.

  “You never made it clear to me.”

  No, he hadn’t. Their position was different. “We haven’t slept together yet.” Yet? His subconscious tacked on the additional word without his approval.

  “Well…” She lowered her gaze to his shoes. “I guess addressing the issue wasn’t uncalled for. But you could’ve handled it better. You should’ve been nice.”

  “I don’t do nice.”

  Her grin produced a dimple, and soft laughter followed.

  “You’re laughing at me now?” He should’ve been annoyed. Instead, he found himself grinning back at her. It didn’t make a lick of sense. Then again, he rarely had women making fun of him. They were always making plans to fuck him. “I thought we weren’t allowed to do that.”

  “I can’t help it. You sound like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. I can picture you using the same tone to say, ‘I don’t do vegetables.’”

  “I do do vegetables,” he countered. “What I don’t do is put up with people’s shit. I’m just sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

  “Really?” She quirked a disbelieving brow.

  “Yeah. Really.”

  She gave a soft snort and threw her handbag onto the passenger seat. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Does that mean we’re good now?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. There was no seduction. Only contemplation. And holy shit, it was worth more on a sexual scale than any lip bite he’d previously witnessed. The sight sent his mind into a rapid rewind to the night in the locker room. Her body resting against his. Her moans filling his ears.

  “I suppose so.”

  His dick started cashing checks his mind wasn’t willing to pay. “I’m glad to hear it.” He backtracked, getting out of there. Fast. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Nope.” She slid into the driver’s seat. “I won’t be back.”

  “Then, I guess it was nice knowing you.”

  She chuckled again and began closing her door. “I wouldn’t go that far, either.”

  Chapter Seven

  A shitty mood didn’t come close to what Bryan sported when he shoved past the glass doors of the Taste of Sin restaurant the following day. The scheduled lunch shift wasn’t the issue. The problem came from his phone.

  He’d expected the sperm vultures to have left a message or two while his cell lay dormant overnight. The snatch pics that filled his text box hadn’t been a surprise. He’d also expected the abusive message from Leo over what had happened last night.

  What he hadn’t predicted was the message from Tera—If you change your mind and want to talk, please call me.

  Oh, hell, no. He wasn’t going to let her fuck up another day. As far as he was concerned, his parents were already dead and buried. He assumed the feeling was mutual.

  The reminder to change his cell number had him in a shitty mood. But from the sight of his business partners standing beside a table in the empty dining room of Taste of Sin, the worst was yet to come.

  T.J. maintained his usual friendly expression—casual smile, laid-back posture. On the flip side, Leo scowled, eyeing him as if eagerly awaiting the start of whatever intervention was on this week’s agenda.

  “What are you doing here?” Bryan veered to the left, cutting through the tables toward the storage room behind the bar. “I thought you were both working tonight.”

  “We are.” T.J. cleared his throat and shot a glance at Leo. “We have a few things we wanted to discuss with you beforehand.”

  “Right…” He continued walking, unsurprised when they both followed into the small enclosed area behind the bar. They hovered inside the doorway as Bryan dumped his wallet and keys in the safe. “Hurry up and get it over with.”

  “You went too far last night.” Leo stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind them. “I had no idea of the extent of what happened until after you bailed. Then all hell broke loose, and I had a mass of women nagging me about how I was going to address the situation.”

  “Address the situation? You’re joking, right? I followed club rules. I did everything by the book. The women in the Vault were due for a reminder on club etiquette, so I made a public announcement.” No harm. No foul. At least from his viewpoint. “If you’d been getting snatch pics every five minutes and throaty voice messages the next, you would’ve done the same damn thing.”

  “I get it.” T.J. gave him a placating look, furrowe
d brow and all. “Leo said a few of the women were hounding you—”

  “A few?” Bryan glared at Leo. “If you’re going to relay a story, at least tell it right.”

  “Okay, so a population equivalent to the Chinese army has been begging to nail you. Better?” Leo rolled his eyes. “You already know my feelings on the matter. You can’t deny you overreacted.”

  Bryan ground his teeth. Had his friends already forgotten what it was like to be single in a club of voracious women? Did they even remember why they’d opened the Vault?

  No. Of course not.

  They were too busy creating memories with their significant others, and in return, shifting the dynamic of the business. T.J. had reconciled with his wife, Cassie, and Leo and Shay were growing closer with every public display of affection. Decisions surrounding the running of Taste of Sin, Shot of Sin, and the Vault of Sin were no longer a closed discussion.

  “I go to the Vault to relax,” he grated. “I’m not going to put up with any crap down there. It was created for us. We opened it. We made the rules.”

  “And now it’s a thriving business.” T.J. leaned against a stack of beer cartons next to the door. “It’s moved beyond an irregular night of fun and is growing into something bigger than any of us planned.”

  “Then maybe it should go back to the way it was.” He didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. He didn’t mean them. But something had to change. He just didn’t know what.

  His friends frowned, matching expressions of disbelief hitting him with their subtle annoyance.

  “You’re the one who suggested these show nights,” Leo bit out.

  Demonstrations. They were demonstrations or classes, not shows, but Bryan kept the critique to himself.

  “You wanted to increase satisfaction levels and talk about getting women off efficiently. You were the one who suggested a BDSM talk session in the future. Now, all of a sudden, we’re moving too fast? You can’t have it both ways.”

  Bryan ran a hand over his forehead and massaged his temples. “I know.”

  Tera’s phone call had him on edge. To the point of angered hysteria. After years of continuously burying the memories of his past, one twenty-second conversation had dragged everything to the forefront.

  “Come on, man. You know the Vault is holding its own when it comes to income.” T.J.’s voice softened. “Membership has doubled. The nights we open are increasing due to demand. And there’s a shitload of interest in the class you’ve organized.”

  “There was,” Leo clarified. “I doubt it will go ahead now.”

  “What?” Bryan dropped his hand to his side. “Why?”

  He’d put weeks of work into curating the perfect information session. With the influx of new members, there’d been a slight decline in enjoyment from the female patrons. The intention was to encourage men currently more interested in their own orgasms into those who gained greater pleasure in providing them to others.

  “You stirred a hornet’s nest last night. After you left, half the members were up in arms, screaming for blood.”

  “Let me guess,” Bryan scoffed. “The female half?”

  “Nailed it.” Leo glared through tiny slits. “So how are you going to fix this?”

  Fix this? He balled his hands into fists, the divide between them increased. There was nothing to fix. Not on his end.

  “Like I said, I had women hassling me last night. I reminded them of the rules. End of story.” He made for the door. “If they can’t take a stern warning, they shouldn’t be in the club.”

  “That’s not what they’re pissed about. They’re saying you singled out a woman in one of the private rooms. They’re demanding an apology.”

  “He’s not exaggerating.” T.J. pulled his cell from his jacket pocket. “I received a few messages about it this morning. Cassie did, too.”

  Bryan brushed the offered phone away and grabbed the door handle. “Well, then, they’re in luck, because I already apologized to Ella last night. This shit is dead and buried.” He winced when the words reminded him of his mother.

  “Did you really apologize?”

  Bryan turned to Leo. “Do I look like I give enough fucks to lie about it?” He was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. His friends knew it, too.

  “Good.” The concern in T.J.’s features didn’t lessen. “That’s a start. They’re still going to want a public apology, but if we send everyone an email clarifying what happened in the aftermath of the confrontation, maybe the class can go ahead.”

  “A public apology?” A public fucking apology? Were they kidding? “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Then neither will the class.” Leo spread his arms wide. “You can’t have one without the other.”

  “That’s how it’s going to be?” Fury slithered through his veins, making his fingers shake, his heart palpitate. He took a menacing step toward Leo, trying like hell to keep his emotions in check. “You’re railroading me into doing something I shouldn’t have to do?”

  “Are you really going to get in my face over this?” Leo raised his chin. “What’s gotten into you? I warned you yesterday to keep it friendly. Now look what’s happened—the women have quit salivating over your bullshit. Even Janeane has a prickle up her snatch and has refused to be your plaything for the demonstration night.”

  A prickle, otherwise known as rejection revenge. “I don’t need her help.” God knew he’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to his enthusiasm over using someone with claws poised to sink into his skin.

  “Well, you’re going to need someone, and none of the women in the Vault will touch you. They’ve already vowed to stick together to make a point.”

  “We’re not the only club in town. I’ll find someone else.”

  “That’s beside the point. Nobody will show up to the demo as a spectator for the same reason.” T.J. slid his cell into his jacket pocket. “You know I love you, man, but this is our reputation you’re playing with. You either need to apologize or get the woman back in here to prove everything’s been smoothed over.”

  “I agree,” Leo added. “Or maybe think about stepping away from the Vault until it all blows over.”

  “Step away?”

  Fuck.

  He got it, really, he did. The women were playing the emotional, we-did-nothing-wrong card, and all the men were standing beside them because otherwise they wouldn’t get laid.

  Well played, ladies. Well played.

  “I can’t do that.” The Vault was his go-to. His one hangout. His only refuge. He’d never needed the mind-numbing escape more. “Not right now.”

  “And why is that?” Leo asked. “You haven’t been an eager participant for months.”

  Now they were keeping tabs on him? “Because Shay keeps asking to ride my dick and I’m just about ready to cave.”

  Leo glared. “Sarcasm? Now there’s something new for a change. You could’ve simply asked me to mind my own business.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve done that more times than I can count. It looks like Shay is starting to rub off on you.”

  “Come on, guys.” T.J. pushed from the stack of beer cartons. “We need to sort this mess. The demo is next Thursday night, and we don’t have another party planned in the Vault beforehand.”

  There was no we involved. This was all on Bryan’s shoulders. Along with all the other shit that had piled on top of him this week.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll work it out.” Bryan made for the door, determined to put this bullshit behind him to make way for the more important bullshit.

  “Yeah?” Leo followed behind him. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  “It’ll be an easy fix.” He shrugged. “I’ll convince Ella to be my assistant.”

  Chapter Eight

  Pamela handed the carry-out coffee and muffin to the construction worker who had become a regular customer in her cafe. He was a nice guy. Always placed a generous tip in her jar. Constantly g
ave her a sweet grin. Never wavered with his manners. “Enjoy.”

  He inclined his head, backtracking as he increased the sugary sweetness of his smile. “Thank you. I will.”

  Her sister, Kim, groaned from her position in front of the coffee machine. “The studs are out in force today. I feel like we’ve hit the hot-guy jackpot.”

  “He’s not that hot.” Pamela placed the glass dome back on top of the muffin display plate. “Too cute and sweet for my appetite.”

  “I’m not talking about Muffin Man. I want to latch my nails into the guy out front. He’s been standing there on his cell for five minutes, and I’m dying to know if he’s going to come inside.”

  Pamela swung her gaze to the door and swallowed over the gasp threatening to escape her throat. The man’s face was annoyingly familiar—the scowl even more so.

  Bryan. The asshole who’d kept her up all night pondering hate sex.

  “Shit.” She scooted behind Kim, hiding from view. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him walk by her little café, but it was the first time he’d stopped.

  “You know him?”

  “Technically? No.”

  “But…”

  “That’s Bryan—the guy from the club I was telling you about.” She clutched her sister’s arm, dragging her along the counter like a shield.

  “The one with superior hands and an unrivaled bad attitude?”

  “Yes. Now get me out of here before he sees me.”

  They shuffled in unison toward the swinging kitchen doors until she safely hid from view. Now all she had to deal with was the raised questioning brow coming from her mother behind the preparation bench.

  “Who are we hiding from?” Her mom craned her neck, paused in her task of peeling carrots as she looked out the service window.

  “Nobody.” Pamela smiled and crossed her hands behind her back. “I just wanted to see what you’re up to.”