“Are you okay?” She scrunches her face and kind of laughs. It’s sexy as fuck. She could be folding laundry in here, and I’d get hard.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I adjust the underwear then realize she’s the reason I’m wearing these ridiculous things, the reason why I have a piece of rubber around the base of my dick. She’s fucking with me just like the night in the Escalade. She’s a sadist but in this room; I’m in control, and I’m going to make her pay. Make her feel as unconformable as I do, as horny as I am. Fuck the small talk. I walk to the panel and turn up the volume. The bass from one of Giovanni’s favorite songs vibrates the door.
Rachel is intrigued. She uncrosses her legs and sips her champagne. She’s wearing jeans and a light green button-down blouse. It’s opened to her cleavage.
We make eye contact as I dance closer. Her mouth opens as I take her champagne flute and set it on the floor. I lean her back until her head rests against the low arm of the chaise. She adjusts to make herself comfortable, a cynical grin on her face like she’s daring me to make her feel good.
I put my knee between her legs; she spreads them willingly. I lift her hand and place it on my stomach. Her fingers splay across my abs, then she moves towards the waist of my sweats. My hips pump towards her. I feel the heat between her legs. My cock swell again. She arches towards me, urging my crotch to make contact with her. She wants me to go fast; I won’t give her what she wants. I get up and walk to the door. I pour myself a glass of champagne. She’s still lying there, legs open, staring at the ceiling like a good submissive.
I walk to the chaise and straddle her. I don’t actually sit. One leg is over her, kneeling, the other is still on the floor. She squirms beneath me, so my ass is over her crotch.
I take a sip from the glass, then lean over her face. Rachel doesn’t even hesitate. Her lips part, waiting for me to dribble champagne into her mouth. I lean in close, our lips almost touching, and let the liquid drip onto her lips. Her tongue slips past her lips to catch the droplets like snowflakes.
I’m supposed to be driving her crazy, but the opposite is happening. I’m about to pop this rubber band.
I place my glass on the floor, then pull my t-shirt off and pick up the glass. I pour the champagne down my chest. Rachel rubs it across my wet abs. Her red nails glisten in the dim light as she circles my nipples with her thumb.
The song fades into another. I stand and kick off my shoes.
Rachel sits up to watch.
I do a few of my basic hip moves. It isn’t comfortable with a full hard on. Rachel reaches for me. I step closer; she places her hands on the back of my thighs and presses my cock against her chest.
My hard-on is inches from her the throat. She either wants me to pull it out or likes the way it feels against her breasts. I vote for the former. Her hands slide up my thighs to the waist of my sweats. I let her pull them down, forgetting what I have on underneath. Luckily the band does its job because I keep a semi when Rachel starts laughing.
“I can’t believe you actually wore them,” she howls.
All confidence drains from my body as Rachel points and laughs at the ridiculous undies she forced me to wear.
“Whatever the customer wants.” I don’t hide the chagrin in my tone. I pull my sweats up and go to the panel on the wall to turn down the music. “That’s time.”
I find my t-shirt and pull it on, then look for my shoes. My dick is aching in a bad way now. I have to get this thing off.
“Thanks for coming,” I tell her.
“Sway, wait.”
I pause, but I don’t turn around. I just wait for her to apologize so I can go.
“This is for you.”
I feel her place something in my palm.
“Thanks,” I mutter and leave.
I go straight to the bathroom and carefully remove the band. I toss it in the garbage and look at the three crumpled hundred dollar bills on the counter. The money doesn’t make it better, not really.
I get dressed and go to the sound room to get Andre. I find her passed out on the floor and realize there is no way I can get her out of the club and into an Uber.
I open the door to the dressing room happy to see all the guys inside. “Hey,” I announce. “I need a hand with Andre.”
Thor grumbles about a pulled muscle in his back, and Rico says he has a private.
“Where’s Giovanni?” I ask.
“He left with that tech executive celebrating her divorce,” Dain says. “We probably won’t see him for a week.”
“Well, I need a hand. Andre is passed out, and I promised to get her home.” I take my phone out and pull up the Uber app.
“Do you have a car?” Dain stands with his backpack on his shoulder. I show him the Uber app. “Come on; I’ll drive you.”
I manage to get Andre to the back door and into the alley where Dain is waiting with his black Dodge Charger. He opens the rear door and then takes her other arm.
“Let’s go, bro.” Dain eases her into the backseat and closes the door.
“Nice car.” I open the front passenger door. “What year is this?”
“Twenty ten. It was my brother’s. I took over payments after he died.” Dain walks around and gets into the car.
Everyone knows Dain’s brother is a sore spot.
“Sorry, dude.”
“It’s okay, really. Everyone avoids talking about Liam because they think I’m gonna freak out or something.” Dain starts the car and drives out of the alley. “It’s been five years.”
I didn’t know Dain then, and I barely know him now, but I can tell he isn’t over losing his brother. Not even close.
“Make sure she isn’t gonna puke,” Dain suggests.
I turn around and nudge Andre. “You good?”
She looks up with a drunk smile. “It’s all good, bro.” Her head falls against the door, and she’s out again.
Sitting in the empty spot next to Andre is a child’s booster seat. “Do you have a kid?”
Dain looks in his rearview at the camo-colored seat and smiles. “No, it’s my nephew’s. He’s six, but he still needs one of those.” Dain nails the gas as we drive up the on-ramp to Highway 280. “My sister-in-law was pregnant when my brother died. He never knew him.”
I think about Lulu. Leeyan left before she was two. Lulu doesn’t remember anything about her, just the stories I tell through pictures. At least Lulu’s mother is out there in the world. She can show up at any time and completely ruin both of our lives, or save us.
“Do you know where she lives?” Dain finally asks.
“Oh shit.” I look back at Andre. “Let me check her ID.”
“No.” Dain shakes his head. “She moved two weeks ago. Her license wouldn’t be updated yet.” Dain taps the steering wheel as he thinks. “I can’t take her to my place.” He doesn’t give any reason why. I don’t expect him to. This was my idea; she’s my responsibility.
“Looks like we’re having a sleep over, Andre.”
She mumbles something and gives me a thumbs up.
I navigate Dain to my place. He pulls into the driveway, and I jump out to unlock the front door. I listen for movement in the apartment. It’s quiet.
I run down the stair to help Dain get Andre out of the car. She’s limp in our arms and feels a lot heavier than she did before.
“Dude,” she mumbles when we reach the top step. “I’m gonna puke.” Her head falls forward, and she vomits on my doorstep.
“Ah fuck!” Dain yells and jumps back. He drops Andre’s arm. “Sorry, vomit is my kryptonite.” He gags and runs down the stairs, leaving me to hold Andre as she hurls all over my welcome mat.
“You bringing your work home now?” I know that annoying voice. He’s the last person I want to see right now. I turn and see Dennis standing at the bottom of the stairs with an expensive-looking blonde. “Do you really think it’s wise to bring drunk women home with Lulu in the house?”
“She’s a co-work
er. Just like him.” I thumb to Dain, who is finally coming back to help. “What are you doing here?”
“I own this building, or did you forget?” Dennis chuckles because that’s what assholes do. “I moved into the upstairs unit.”
Fucking great.
We maneuver Andre through the door and hurry down the hall to the bathroom.
“Bathtub?” Dain suggests.
“Good idea.” I lift her legs, and we place her in the tub. Dain pulls Lulu’s Moana towel from the bar and puts it under Andre’s head.
“What happened? Some guy stiffed her on a lap dance?” Dennis smirks from the doorway.
My eyes shoot to his pimpled face. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
“You left the front door open. Anyone could’ve just walked inside.” Dennis looks at me like he isn’t just anyone.
“She broke up with her boyfriend,” Dain tells him.
“No, it’s a girlfriend,” I correct.
“Really?” Dain looks at Andre. She’s sporting a pair of baggy Ben Davis and rainbow bra under a wife-beater. One of her gauges have fallen out, but the rest of the piercings that line her ear on intact. “Yeah, okay.”
“Well, what the fuck is she doing in your bathtub?” Dennis is like a fly that won’t go away. He just keeps buzzing in my ear.
“She puked.” I don’t hide the fuck-you in my voice.
“Yeah, it’s all over the porch. You’re going to have to clean that as soon as possible.” Dennis does this thing when he’s trying to pretend he’s not a dick. He speaks softly like he's not trying to be a condescending prick. It makes me want to rip his throat out.
I sigh in exasperation. “I’ll clean it.”
“She must be a really good friend to go through all this trouble.”
Dain finally turns around to acknowledge Dennis. “You would do the same thing for one of your co-workers.” Dain doesn’t know Dennis’ financial situation. The guy has never worked a day in his life, and he never will, thanks to his mommy’s investments.
“Can you really call it work?” Dennis’ condescending tone causes Dain’s left hand to twitch. “You rub your dick on overweight housewives for money.”
“Not true,” Sylvie says from the hall. “They’re not all overweight.”
“Not helping,” I tell her. “Are the kids still asleep?” I look lower to make sure Lulu isn’t witnessing this shitstorm.
“Yeah, but not for long if you keep jabbering in here. These walls aren’t soundproof.”
“I’m well aware,” Dennis chimes in. “You should remember that next time you have company.”
Sylvie’s eyes narrow as Dennis’s footsteps echo down the hall. Her hair is loose and hanging over the side of her face. It’s dark in the hall, but I can tell she’s been crying.
“Are you okay?” I move around Dain and step outside the bathroom.
“I'm all right.” Sylvie tries to push past me. I grab her upper arm, and she flinches. Her sweater falls off her shoulder, exposing the purple tint of a fresh bruise.
I follow her into the kitchen. “How did this happen?” I point to her arm.
“Keep your voice down. I just got Reese back to sleep.” She pulls a mug from the cabinet and fills it with water. She drinks it before answering.
I imagine the way a bruise like that is made, and I remember Aaron came over tonight.
“Did Aaron do that to you?” I whisper-yell. “Sylvie.” I gently place my hand on her shoulder, and she turns around. Her cheek is inflamed with a red splotch in the shape of a handprint. How hard do you have to hit a woman to leave a mark like that?
My blood races as I think of him hitting her.
In my house.
With my daughter here.
“Where does he live?” My voice carries through the apartment. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“Whoa.” Dain appears in the doorway. “Sway, there’s a baby sleeping right there.” He points across the hall to the living room. “Can you guys talk about this outside?”
“You’re not my protector, Theo. I can take care of myself.” Sylvie pushes past Dain to the living room. She begins to pack her things as if she’s leaving.
She’s upset and embarrassed. Her first inclination is to run.
“Sylvie, don’t go.” I stop her before she can take Reese out of his playpen.
“You guys can talk in my car.” Dain tosses me his keys. “I’ll keep watch.”
I step towards the door. She reluctantly slips her flip-flops on and walks outside.
We’re in the front seat of Dain’s car, staring at the garage door. Neither of us knows where to start.
“Nice car,” she finally says.
“Yeah.”
“Does he have a kid?” Sylvie gestures to the booster seat.
“His brother’s kid.” I don’t feel like talking about Dain’s fucked up story. I want to hear Sylvie’s.
“Just so we’re clear, Lulu wasn’t in the room when this happened. She was already in bed, and we were in…” She stops speaking and clears her throat. “We were in your room.”
I make a sound of disgust and start plotting on how to burn my mattress and bedding without catching the building on fire.
“We weren’t fucking,” she spits. “We went in there to talk because Reese was sleeping in the living room, and the kitchen echoes.”
I tell myself to let her talk. I need to hear what happened, so I know how to respond, but I can’t stop the image of him slapping her, in my room. I’ve never wanted to inflict pain on someone the way I want to hurt Aaron.
Sylvie taught me what unconditional love and friendship looked like. Before her, I was bitter and skeptical of people. It was me against the world. That’s how I was raised. My parents were selfish. Leeyan only cares about herself. As much as I love Giovanni, he comes first in his world. Sylvie is a great friend and mother. She’s the only woman in Lulu’s life. I refuse to let anyone hurt her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I place my arm on the back of her seat. She rests her cheek against my palm. Her skin is warm from the blood rushing to her face.
She kisses the center of my hand softly. I don’t know when my hand moved to her head or exactly how her lips traveled from my palm to my face, but suddenly Sylvie is straddling my lap.
“What are we doing,” I ask between kisses. These little violations of our friendship. We swore to keep things in the friend zone. This is out so far out of the zone; it’s the fucking twilight zone.
“I don’t want to need you, Theo. But I do.” Her voice cracks. Not from the emotion she’s expressing; it’s a combination of everything she’s been through tonight, and in the last year. Sylvie keeps a lot of balls in the air. Not just hers, mine too. Maybe it’s time I took over.
“You’re a good friend, Theo.”
When she says the word friend, something in my chest twitches. I don’t want to be Sylvie’s friend. I kiss the base of her neck.
“Friends don’t kiss like this.”
She kind of laughs. “Sometimes friends do kiss like this. We used to kiss like this all the time.”
I kiss her neck and work my way back to her mouth. “Friends with benefits aren’t real friends.”
She nods. “Which would you rather have?”
I move the hair off her face so I can see her, all of her. “With you?”
She nods again. Uncertainty causes a crease between her eyes. The lie we’ve been telling ourselves has never been more evident than right now. I want Sylvie in every way a man can have a woman.
“I want something real.” My hands move to her cheeks. “And I want it with you.”
I think about our conversation at the park the other day. “Remember when you asked me what I’d do if Leeyan came back?”
“She will come back someday.”
“I don’t care.” I kiss Sylvie, and she smiles against my lips. “You are the only woman I want in my life.”
“I’ve waited so long
for you to say that.” Her mouth covers mine, and our tongues press against each other. Feeling Sylvie rock against me as we kiss, has me on edge. I’ll be damned if I blow my wad in Dain’s car.
We go back into the house, and Dain says Andre woke up long enough to give him her new address. I help him load Andre into his car.
“Is everything cool?” Dain looks back at the door where Sylvie was just standing.
“Her ex is a fucking prick.” My adrenaline kicks up when I think of Aaron.
“Is he going to be a problem? Cause I can come back.” Dain looks like he’s ready for a fight. I never took him as a tough guy.
“No, he’s a punk.” Guys like Aaron beat women and run from men.
After Dain leaves, I lock the door and take Sylvie to my bed. We undress and lie on top of the comforter. We don’t have sex or even kiss. Okay, we kiss a little. Mostly I look at her face and try to harness my rage. Aaron will never set foot in my home again. Sylvie doesn’t need him. I can be a father to Reese. Sylvie is more of a mother to Lulu than Leeyan ever could be. We’re imperfect and maybe a little damaged, but we’re here for each other. Sometimes being present is all that matters.
I registered Lulu for school today, so I’m officially broke. After buying a suit and shoes for my side job, I have three hundred and sixty-six dollars in the bank. I’ll add to it after my shift tomorrow night. I need to make as much as I can since Jimmy is punishing me for taking off Saturday. He pulled my solo and said I could only do a private if I’m requested. Other than crazy Rachel, I’ve only had four personal requests.
Percy and Damon are really starting to get a following. Jimmy had no choice but to promote them to the main show. We rotate out every week. Since Rico and Giovanni have been busy with side jobs, there hasn’t been much conflict.
Except Thor.
He’s threatened to quit twice, so Jimmy gave him the three spot indefinitely. Performing a solo in the middle of the pack pays well. The women are warmed up, less embarrassed to run up to the stage, and feel you up as they shove a twenty in your G-string. Since Thor doesn’t rely on his dancing ability to get the crowd pumped, the middle slot is perfect for him. He just walks around on stage, maybe pulls up a few women and humps them on the ground. It’s the perfect act before my routine. By the time Thor is finished, the ladies are ready for something more entertaining. That’s me. I’m mister enter-fucking-tainment. I have Sylvie to thank for that.
Got Mine (Men of Trance Book 1) Page 8
