Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2)

by Jessica Collins

  He kissed her forehead and moved to stand behind her chair as he turned to Scarlett and Snow. “Congrats on the job. Belle just told the guys.” He smiled. “Guess I’ll have to hire another guard just for you, now, huh?”

  Scarlett’s face lit up. “Actually … I wouldn’t mind having Max guard me.”

  “What’s the deal with everyone losing it over Max?” Alistair asked. “Is it the blond hair?” he joked, looking toward Jayla. Rather than smile back, her eyes narrowed, her face heating in anger.

  “I’m sorry, but did I just hear you choose for me?” she responded, hoping he’d catch his choice of wording from the day before.

  He lowered his voice, bending toward her, so the girls wouldn’t hear. “You don’t seem to mind when I give you other types of directions, Princess.”

  Normally, the tone he used would shoot straight to her core, reminding her of the things he could do to her body. But now it just pissed her off. How dare he!

  She spoke loudly, not caring if the girls heard her reply. “Correction, ‘gave’, Alistair. Past tense. And normally you weren’t such a dick.”

  He winced.

  For a split second she regretted saying it. She didn’t want them to be past tense.

  Scarlett whistled low, grabbing Snow’s wrist as she began to back away. “No worries, Jayla. If you wanna come, the offer’s good.”

  “She’ll be there,” Alistair answered for her, again, spinning her chair so she faced him, sending Jayla’s stomach into knots. She couldn’t get control of her emotions. Anger, longing, annoyance, concern. They were all jumbled. What she did know was that was done letting men make decisions for her. At least outside the bedroom.

  “Sorry, Scarlett. I just realized that’s Memorial Day weekend. I don’t want to leave Belle hanging,” she called over her shoulder, defiantly.

  “She’ll be fine,” he growled as an answer.

  Jayla watched Snow and Scarlett in the mirror as they scurried out of the backstage area. Her anger flaring, she confronted him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “You need to go.”

  “I need to go? You’re just … commanding me to go? What if I don’t want to?”

  Alistair sighed, his posture relaxing. “Do you not want to?”

  “I want to decide for myself.”

  He smirked, crossing his arms. “And here I was thinking you were too scared to make decisions for yourself. Thought I’d help by making them for you.”

  Her mouth opened at his audacity. He was throwing her words back in her face? Fucker.

  She stood, squaring up to him as she spoke. “You’re right. I do need help. Except, you don’t get to decide for me anymore, Alistair. You lost that right when you handed me my purse and let me walk out the door.”

  “Let you? Let you walk out the door?” he asked, incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me? What did you want me to do, Jayla? Tie you down?” His eyes narrowed. “Oh, wait, that’s exactly what you wanted me to do. Because if you’re tied down, then you can pretend this isn’t real — that we aren’t real — and that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “You’re such a prick,” she spoke, side stepping to walk away from him.

  “Come back here and finish this, Jayla,” he called, his voice dark.

  “It’s already over,” she replied, hating herself for saying the words.

  She was almost at the door leading to the main floor, when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back to him.

  It was exactly what she needed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alistair pulled Jayla along behind him and up the stairs to the security office. She shivered slightly when they stepped inside. The room was decidedly cooler than the rest of the club. A rack of computer servers blinked and hummed in the corner. Save a couple of chairs, a file cabinet, and the bank of curved monitors on the desk, the only thing seemingly out of place was Peter, who sat wide-eyed behind the desk.

  “Out,” Alistair commanded.

  Pete stood, looking back and forth between Alistair and Jayla. “Boss, maybe you should cool down a sec firs—”

  “Now.”

  Jayla swallowed, her heart racing. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. One look at his clenched jaw was all it took to tell her how this was going to go down. She wanted to be angry. Hell, she was angry. But she couldn’t control the dampness growing below at his body language. His voice. His hand around her wrist. Holding her, but not … not hurting her. Never hurting her. Fuck, he’s sexy when he’s angry.

  “Alistair,” Peter started.

  “Get. Out. Now,” Alistair repeated, tone low and dark.

  She thought she’d heard his voice falter, but when he turned his eyes back to her, her pulse skyrocketed. He was still in complete control.

  Demand. Control. Propriety. She smirked, rolling her eyes, indicating he couldn’t intimidate her.

  What right does he have to be angry anyway? He doesn’t talk to me for three days and all of a sudden, he just thinks he can command me to go to Austin?

  She tore her wrist from his grasp, crossing her arms.

  Peter stood, the chair scraping against the tiled floor, echoing in the room.

  I mean, where does he get off being angry? He didn’t care I left. He just let me leave.

  And then it clicked.

  He let me leave.

  Her heart raced at the epiphany. He always told her she was in control — she directed their actions, their relationship. He wasn’t indifferent she left, he was hurt. She left him. And he had allowed it. Not because he didn’t care, but because he … did. The ultimate way to show someone they have full control? Let. Them. Leave.

  The anger? It wasn’t anger. It was pain. Pain combined with jealousy, mixed with his need to protect her. Other men could hurt her. Other men had hurt her. Not him. He never would. He let me leave.

  It was as if her world suddenly righted itself. She looked back at him, into his gaze. His eyes may have been narrowed, but not in anger toward her. Never anger toward her.

  She nearly gasped at what she saw in his gaze — lust, defeat … love.

  Love.

  Why did she run? God, it was so obvious. How couldn’t she have known? She wasn’t just scared. She was in love.

  What’s more — she trusted him. She needed him back.

  Those things I said! Please, don’t let it be too late.

  They needed to be alone. Right now.

  “It’s okay, Pete,” she said, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I need to talk to him about his behavior anyway. Completely unacceptable,” she challenged, crossing his arms.

  Peter nodded, looking only at her. “Fine. If you need me, yell. I’ll be waiting right outside.”

  Any other time his concern would have been welcome. The fact the men took such great care of all the performers — of all the women at the club, really — reminded her that she had finally found the life she always wanted. Tonight, though, she wanted him far, far away.

  “Pete, we need a little privacy. I’ll be okay. Just go.”

  Peter searched her face. When she nodded, he seemed to accept her request, but pointed a finger at Alistair. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Al,” he warned, just before exiting and shutting the door tightly behind him.

  Another indication this thing between she and Alistair was right? Even when looking deadly, his staff knew him well enough to know he’d never hurt her. They were more concerned he’d push her away.

  “Unacceptable?” Alistair asked through his teeth, just as the door closed.

  Keep it up, Jayla. “Yes.”

  He shook his head, taking a deep inhale.

  “You’re right,” he agreed, sucking his lips into his mouth. Turning away from her, he ran both hands through his hair, his large frame flexing with the movements. “You’re right.” This time, the words were softer. The sound of his agony obvious in his tone.

  Her heart ached a
t the change. She never intended to hurt him. She wanted her Alistair back, her Dominant, virile, man to take her away from the reality of her past, her pain. To love her.

  “And you’re being a pussy.”

  “What?” he responded, turning to her.

  She crossed her arms again. “Looks like you’ve contracted LBS.”

  “LBS? My … company?” he asked, confused.

  She almost laughed at the irony of the initials.

  “No, not your company. Little bitch syndrome.”

  His head tilted, brow furrowing.

  Come on, Jayla, you can do better than this. Be what he loves — his brat.

  She lowered her voice, taking a step toward him, her finger pointed in his direction. “Stop being a pussy and come over here and take what’s yours.”

  His jaw slacked, mouth agape.

  “Need me to spell it out? Here — me. Come take me. I. Am. Yours.”

  She could nearly see the wheels in his head spinning. “Tic toc, Alistair. Are you going to do what you’re told? Or do I need to find someone who will?”

  Those spinning wheels — they stopped. His head straightened, his posture righting. His chest expanded as his stance changed.

  “Excuse me?” The slight flare of his nostrils would have concerned her, if not for the briefest of quirk of his lips. He knew, knew what she was doing.

  They were both game.

  He took a step toward her. “Someone else?” he asked, voice low, tone dark, dangerous.

  “Yes, Alistair. Someone who knows how to handle me. All of me.” Swallowing, she continued, “Someone who can handle me when I don’t even understand myself — when I’m doing everything to push them away even though I need them. Someone who understands when I need support and when I need space — and doesn’t run from me when I freak out. Which I probably will. A few more times, at least. Who … who…” She couldn’t formulate the words, stuttering like an owl.

  “Who gives you what you need.” He finished her sentence for her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes filling with pressure. How could one anger-lust fueled conversation have so much emotion?

  “What do you need, Jayla?” he asked, taking a step toward her. His hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it. The sound echoed off the walls of the concrete room. She couldn’t remove her gaze from his fingers, her breath catching in her throat at his approach.

  “I…”

  When he pulled the belt through the loops, and closed the distance between them, her eyes closed in delight. The heat of his body against hers immediately calming her.

  “I need you to tell me what I need,” she whispered.

  He shook his head, lifting her chin to face him. “That’s not how this works, Jayla.”

  Her fingers found his zipper, pulling it down as her hands grasped his hard shaft. His eyes closed for the briefest of seconds at the movement of her hand gliding against him.

  “This,” she whispered, the statement more a question.

  “No. That’s what you want,” he corrected. “What do you need?”

  He pushed her back against the wall, lifting her arms above her head, the pressure of his palms against her welcome. Goosebumps rose on her skin at the motion. He leaned himself against her, his hardness pressing into her abdomen. She had to get this right. If not, he’d pull away. She needed him to know she understood now.

  “I need…” her thoughts were interrupted at his tongue against her neck. The bastard was distracting her.

  “You.” She whimpered as he bit into her sensitive skin.

  “Last chance, Princess. Don’t get it wrong this time,” he spoke against her skin.

  What started as her needing to apologize in her own way, to tell him she needed him, wanted him … suddenly, she understood.

  “I need me,” she answered, with confidence. “I need me. Only me. But you … I choose you. I choose you, Alistair.”

  The air escaped her as he pressed himself fully into her, his mouth on hers, his lips rough and demanding. She opened for him, as she always would.

  His head moved down her neck, his scruff scratching her face leaving a welcomed heat in its wake. As he sucked her sensitive skin, butterflies danced in her stomach, her body beginning to quake.

  She needed him. She…

  “I love you,” she whispered, the words escaping her lips.

  He stilled, moving back to watch her. “What did you say?”

  Looking up, his hopeful expression nearly caused her knees to buckle. Her lips quirked as she took a breath. “I do. I love you, Alistair.”

  She loved him. He’d worried he had pushed her too hard, thought he lost her forever, but … she loved him.

  Her feet shuffled, the blush creeping along her chest, up her cheeks. He could only imagine how difficult it had been to say it.

  His chest puffed. “I love you too, Princess,” he said, moving forward, catching her lips with his as he poured himself into the kiss. He needed to show her, in every way, that he did, in fact, love her.

  Dropping her hands, he lowered himself to his knees, reaching under her skirt, pulling her panties down. Standing, he pushed himself against her once again, needing to feel her body against his. Moving his hands under her ass, he lifted her up as he lowered his pants. In one swift motion he dropped her down onto his waiting cock, rocking into her fully, swallowing the moan that erupted from her lips.

  He thrust up, reveling in her sweet pussy, as he bucked into her. She was soaked, enabling him to slide deeply into her. He lifted her, then dropped her down again as he met her body with a thrust of his own, causing her to cry out. Pushing her shoulders back against the wall, he widened his stance, using the leverage of their bodies to pump inside with long, hard strokes.

  Her fingers wrapped in his hair, pulling as he continued to buck inside of her. Her legs tightened around him, trying to hasten his movements, but he needed her just like this.

  “I love you, Jayla. You’re mine,” he spoke, between thrusts. “Mine,” he growled, unable to restrain himself. His movements quickened, pulling her onto him as he thrust up, needing every inch of himself inside of her.

  His hand moved to her top, pulling it down to reveal her breasts. He bit her nipple, licking around the orb. Her cries quickened as her pussy clenched tight.

  “Yes!” she cried. “Yes, I’m yours.”

  “Say it again,” he commanded, needing the words from her lips again.

  “I’m yours,” she moaned, her head falling forward as he sucked her breast.

  “No. Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you. I love you, Alistair.”

  He moaned, shifting her again to reach between them, moving his thumb against her clit. He rubbed in slow circles, in the way that drove her crazy.

  Her head hit the wall, her back bowed against his thrusts, pushing her breasts into him. Her legs tightened again, beginning to shake.

  “Come for me, Princess,” he commanded, needing to feel her milking him. When her ankles locked behind his back, he knew she was close. He pulled her forward bending his knees as he pounded up into her, pressing hard against her clit.

  She cried out, unintelligible words as her pussy clamped around him, throbbing in time with her crossed ankles around his back pulling him in harder.

  You want harder? My pleasure.

  He rocked again, hitting her deeply, bottoming out. His balls smacked against her ass, sending waves of pleasure through him.

  “Again,” he ordered, keeping a firm hold against her clit as he kept circling, bending his head to suckle her nipple as he continued to pound into her. She cried out as another wave throbbed against his cock, tighter than before.

  Heat pooled under his shaft, his balls tightened as pressure built. He thrust deeply again. And again. The aftershocks of her orgasm radiating through her silken walls, vibrating through him.

  “I love you,” she whispered, breathless.

  It was all he needed. He roared with his re
lease, his arm around her back, pummeling her as his cock pulsated with his orgasm. Pressure shot up from the base of his shaft up, pleasure sending a welcome heat through him. Lights flashed behind his eyes as he continued to pump her full of his seed. He ground himself against her, every inch of his cock engulfed inside of her, waiting for the final twitches of his orgasm to dissipate before moving her back against the wall.

  He stood, still inside of her, as they caught their breath, their foreheads touching, breathing each other in.

  “I’m never letting you go again, Princess.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “I’m so glad you’re back, Evie! We’ve missed you!” Jayla called over the bar to Evangeline as she dropped off a couple of empty glasses.

  “Thanks, Jayla. It’s good to be back.” Her smile was proof of the truth to her words.

  According to Merry, Evangeline had woken up the day after Jayla, Snow, and Scarlett had departed for Austin. She’d come back to work the next day. A “Welcome Back” banner and a bunch of balloons still decorated the bar.

  Scarlett moved up beside them to fill two beers from the tap. “I know New York’s bigger than Austin, but damn! This place gets packed,”

  “I know. It’s crazy right?” Jayla added, casting a glance up at the balcony to where Alistair and Gene hunched over the railing, overlooking the club. He’d be on the floor for the next hour or so, only leaving for the control room when Jayla headed upstairs for her shift in the “bookstore”, Gene at her side.

  The idea that her fear almost cost her to lose him still made her queasy. He loved her, and now nothing would ever come between them.

  If ever luck had been on her side it was the day she happened upon the job ad for Madam Lily’s. Her boyfriend, her friends, her job — for the first real time in her life, everything was perfect. She only wished she could talk to her father one last time. Let him know she was finally, truly alright.

  “Twenty-five.”

  Jayla shook her head, only catching the last few words of Scarlett’s question. “What?”

  Evie laughed, nodding up at the balcony. “C’mon girl, you’ve got yours now help us find ours.”