"He's testing me as well."
And understanding slaps me silly.
He's watching to make sure that Raze is fully on board with showing dominance over the women here. He's making sure that Raze has no problem in taking advantage of me... of abusing me.
My mind is spinning and then spins harder when Wyatt brings his mouth back to mine. Another hard kiss and then he's murmuring softly against my lips. "Listen closely... the camera is to your back so if you bend over my lap, we can fake this. He can't hear us... just see us. Your hair and the camera angle will hide what you're really doing. It's time for both of us to put on a performance. Just follow my lead and fucking fake it."
I take in everything he says to me in a mixture of part relief, part disappointment, but ultimately acceptance as this is the best thing possible so that boundaries aren't crossed. I nod and before I know it, Wyatt's hands move to my hair where he grips my head roughly.
He pushes down on my head, and I know that his face is visible to the camera again because he clearly says, "Time to put that mouth on my cock, baby."
This is said with another low murmur, as it's doubtful that Lance is at the door listening. Instead, he's in the security room watching the silent feed on this office's camera, but if he's adept at reading lips, Wyatt is giving him what he wants.
I bend my head down toward Wyatt's lap and my long hair floats all around me, shielding my face and Wyatt's cock that's sitting inches from my lips. It's dusky with a thick vein running along the bottom, and I feel terrible that Wyatt is suffering right now.
Bringing my right hand over, I slip it under the curtain of my hair and lay it on his pelvis, so that it looks like I've taken him in my grasp. I bend over further, and it's my hope that as Lance watches, he thinks I've taken Wyatt deep into my mouth.
I start a fluid bobbing motion with my head, keeping my eyes wide open so I don't actually make contact with Wyatt's skin. I watch that beautiful cock come close to my lips, then get further away as I raise my head. He shifts slightly under me, and I can imagine his head is thrown back. His hands tighten in my hair, and he actually exerts slight pressure to help keep me from touching him.
My heart thumps with exhilaration that we are pulling this ruse off, and with a weird, achy need for something more to happen. I also feel tremendous guilt that, while this is hard on me, Wyatt is the one with the straining erection that isn't going to get a damn bit of relief.
I bob up and down, and in my zeal to put on a star performance, I push down a little too hard and my chin grazes against the tip of his shaft. Wyatt hisses... almost as if he's in pain, and my body freezes. I raise my eyes even as his fingers dig sharply into the back of my neck and side of my head.
His look catches me off guard, and the oxygen is pulled from my lungs. His eyes are filled with lust and frustration, yet he says to me softly, "You're doing great, baby. Keep going."
Anger, guilt, shame, and fury roll back through me again, and I am pissed that Wyatt is being made to suffer this travesty.
"This isn't working," I whisper.
"Sure it is," he says through gritted teeth, pushing back down on my head so I can resume my ruse. "Just a little more and I'll fake the world's biggest orgasm."
"I'm sorry," I murmur, and our eyes lock. I hope he can see how truly, truly sorry I am for what I'm getting ready to do.
I lower my head and move my hand to grip him at the base of his cock. The minute my fingers touch his warm flesh, his entire body tightens. I open my mouth and guide the tip of him inside of me, taking him deep inside... straight to where my tongue ends and my throat begins.
"Fuck," Wyatt groans, and his hips buck up hard against me.
His shaft is warm and pulsing within my mouth. I start moving... desperately, with purpose. I want him to come... I want him to have a moment of peace and pleasure, and I want more than anything for us not to fuck up this operation when we are too close to the finish line.
Mostly, however, I want Wyatt to feel good. I want to make him feel good.
I move over him, licking and sucking. Pumping him hard with my hand, I moan low in my throat so he feels the vibrations against his skin. I want this to go quickly, because I want us both to get past this, and because the longer I keep him in my mouth, the more I yearn for something more.
I feel twitchy and unsettled, a deep, empty feeling within me. I want the world to melt away so there's no Lance watching us, no strip club music thumping outside the doors, no jilted fiancee feelings within me. I wish this were just Wyatt and me... two people that are attracted to each other. Two people that could bask in physical pleasures.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Wyatt starts chanting. A quick raise of my eyes reveals his head to be thrown backward and the muscles in his neck corded tight. His fingers dig into my scalp, and then relax in spasms. His hips gyrate underneath of me with need, and I move up and down on his warm, slick shaft.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck... coming... fuck... I'm coming," Wyatt groans and pushes down hard on my head. I suck him in extra deep, feel the first shot of him against the back of my throat, and I take every bit of him down. His breathing is erratic...sharp blasts of air that I can feel fluttering against my hair. I softly lick against his skin before pulling away from him... terrified to look up in his eyes.
He doesn't give me a chance to face my cowardice though because his hands come under my armpits and he's hauling me up his body. His mouth meets mine brutally, and his tongue dives in deep. Wyatt kisses me savagely... so invasive I feel him everywhere, and my fingers clutch hard onto his t-shirt.
I'm dazed... aching... confused over how much pleasure I took in that. Wyatt pulls back slightly, bringing his lips to my ear. "You didn't have to fucking do that," he growls, and I'm surprised at how much rage I hear in his voice.
Pushing down on his chest, I rise up from the floor, gain my balance, and stare down at him. His eyes are blazing, but I know his face is blocked from the camera.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out softly, unsure of what to do.
His eyes harden further, and he grits out. "Too far. Too fucking far, Andrea."
I know he's seriously pissed and it sucks... because that's the first time he's used my real name, so I know he's serious. I know he's angry. I know Wyatt is angry... not Raze.
He surges up from the chair, tucking himself back in and zipping up his jeans. Grabbing me by the arm, he steers me toward the office door. With both of our backs to the camera, he says, "Sale is tomorrow. I'll be by your apartment later to discuss it. Now get back to work."
He gives me a little push out of the door and then it's closing in my face. I stare at the scarred wood and faded brass plate that says "Office," my eyes misting with emotional tears. I blink hard, push them back, and square my shoulders.
Fuck, that didn't go well at all.
Turning around, I run smack into Lance coming out of the security office. Just as Wyatt predicted, he was in there watching.
"Good girl," he murmurs as he reaches out and rubs a thumb over my bottom lip. "I think you'll do just fine."
I give him a tremulous smile. "Thank you, and again... I'm sorry about earlier."
"No worries, baby. Now get back out there. I believe you're on stage in about fifteen minutes."
My stomach pitches at the thought of doing yet another dance, but then a surge of relief washes through me. Wyatt said the sale is set for tomorrow night. We're on the verge of making this happen. One thing is for sure, tomorrow night... it will all be over.
Chapter 9
Wyatt
After pushing the door closed on Andrea, I walk back over to the chair I had just vacated and plop back down in it. Rubbing my hands vigorously over my face, I take a deep breath and let it out in slow frustration.
Damn... that fucking felt amazing.
Best. Head. Ever.
And yet it was so very wrong to go there.
I should have stopped her. I should have had the strength to pull her off me. Should have done s
omething to prevent her from wrapping those beautiful lips around my dick.
Yet, I didn't do a damn thing except thrust my hips up to hit her mouth harder, and I'm pretty sure I did a hell of a lot of groaning.
What in the hell was Andrea thinking? We were doing an adequate job of faking it. I knew the camera angle, fuzzy resolution, and positioning of Andrea's body wouldn't give Lance a clear-cut picture. I knew he'd be watching a grainy image of her bobbing her head up and down over my lap, and I was pretty sure that he couldn't clearly see facial expressions or read my lips. Still... I was cautious about it, choosing instead to kiss the fuck out of Andrea first before moving my lips closer to her ear to communicate.
Don't regret that kiss a damn bit. It was wrong as well, but it's easier to justify a kiss and I couldn't fucking help myself. I've been fantasizing about kissing every inch of her body since that first time she danced, and I wasn't about to let an opportunity to have her lips pass by.
I'm still pissed at her though.
I'm pissed because she took away my control.
Yeah... the minute her hand wrapped around the base of my cock, I was done. I knew there was no way I was going to stop her. I wanted it too much... I was too weak... fucking consequences be damned.
And it was fan-fucking-tastic. She was a fantasy come true and if I'm completely honest about it, the only thing I'm regretful about is the fact that she felt it her duty to go all the way. That she felt pressured to make sure that our duplicity would not be discovered. That she ultimately sacrificed her body so Lance would not be suspicious of us. Yeah... I'm fucking regretful that all of my grandiose plans to make sure she would never have to go too far in her role were a complete, fucking bust, and all because I was too weak to insist she stop.
Simon's office door opens, and Lance walks in with a shit-eating grin on his face. He takes the seat next to me. "So, how did our girl do?"
He knows fucking well how she did. He was watching--I'm sure of it.
I'm also sure that he was able to see enough to know that it didn't take me long to get off, and that I came hard, so there's no hiding the fact it was fucking great.
"Man... she's got some mad skills with that mouth of hers." And then, because I want to turn the conversation to something far more interesting to me, I say, "Her buyer is going to be very pleased with her."
"As long as she doesn't bite his dick off as a means of rebelling." Lance snickers.
I could so imagine Andrea doing that, but then I put that out of my head. To imagine her biting off her captor's dick means I would have to imagine that she actually gets sold to him, and I'm not going to let that fucking happen.
"Speaking of rebelling," I say to turn the conversation toward the actual abduction in an attempt to see if Lance will give me any further details that could be helpful to my planning. "I'm going to slip Nikki the drug after she finishes her last dance tomorrow night. It takes about forty-five minutes to take good effect, so I figured I'd just bring her back here to Simon's office and hang with her. Do we have a long drive ahead of us to make the exchange?"
"Not a long drive," Lance says dismissively of my question. "Hey... maybe you'll get another blow job from her before the transfer. I've never tried it, but I know X takes away your inhibitions."
Lance laughs and gives me a brotherly punch to my arm.
"Yup... definitely lowers inhibitions. Wouldn't say no to another blow job, either," I tell him with a fake, toothy grin of slimy brotherhood even though I'm disappointed as fuck he won't tell me any details about where the transfer will take place.
"It was a good call to suggest the X," he says as an afterthought. "She won't be knocked out, but I'm still a little worried she may put up a fight."
"Nah... Ecstasy generally produces euphoria. She'll be too happy to fight. I scored some with a little bit of ketamine mixed in, so she'll be a little loopy. I'm going to tell her we're taking her to an after-hours party for her to dance. She'll be totally compliant."
"That's a good plan," Lance says soberly. "That shit with Carla was a fucking fiasco. You did a good job handling that too."
I learned pretty quickly that Lance and Simon both value humility, so I shrug my shoulders carelessly. "Wasn't a big deal."
"Will you have any problem giving Nikki the drug?"
"Nope. She drinks a Diet Coke after every dance. Creature of habit. I'll just slip it right in."
"And you don't think she'll fight at all?"
"Definitely not. I've used this drug on a lot on women," I tell him with a lecherous grin. "She'll be like putty in my hands."
Lance stares at me a moment, and then says, "That's good. Because I'm not going to be at the transfer, and I need to make sure you can handle this alone with Simon."
A jolt of euphoric adrenaline over this news spikes through me, but I carefully school my features. I appear bored when I say, "It'll be fine. Trust me... she'll do anything I tell her to after I give her the dose."
"You do a good job with this... Simon's going to bring you into the operation. You'll get a cut."
"Fucking awesome," I say with fake glee. "I'm so ready, dude. You both can count on me."
Lance nods his head in agreement as I move my way further inside the circle of trust. Stupid fuck.
"I know we can count on you. I felt good about you the minute we brought you in."
Lying fucker. Forcing Andrea's blow job on me was a means of testing my loyalty. Thanks to Andrea... I passed with flying colors, so he might trust me now, but he didn't just half an hour ago.
"So, where are you going to be?" I ask casually.
"Simon wants to expand this business outward. He has a connection that has stock down in Mexico. Kidnapped tourists or some shit like that, and they want a pipeline to move them here in the States. We'll have to share a cut with the Mexicans, but we can move more stock so we'll make it up in volume. We actually need to cut back on the amount of girls that we're taking from the club. Don't want to get on the police radars."
I nod my head thoughtfully toward him, but my mind is on overdrive trying to process this development. It doesn't have shit to do with my operation, but if I can get any information from him, the FBI can launch an investigation into this new potential sex-slave ring. "Yeah... that's good business planning. How are you going to get the girls out of Mexico and over the border?"
"We have a guy with the U.S. Border Patrol at the Antelope-Wells crossing who will turn a blind eye for a cut of the action. Again, eats into our overall profit, but we can move many more girls so we'll be rolling in the dough."
"You have enough buyers lined up?" I ask curiously.
"Simon's working on it... it's mainly word of mouth from our prior buyers. There's an entire underworld clique of these freaks that like to own sex slaves. But he's going to be really busy... doing a lot of travel to set this all up. That means more responsibility on your shoulders here at the club."
"Not a problem," I tell him. "I've got it all under control here."
Lance reaches over and claps me on the back. "Come on. Let's get back to work."
We both stand up and head toward the door. Just as Lance reaches out for the knob, he casually says, "I think I'm going to have to take advantage of Nikki's skills tonight when she gets off duty. She looked hot as hell when she was crawling. I'll give her knees another workout."
He chuckles over this and starts to pull the door open.
My hand shoots out, connects my palm to the wood, and I slam it shut. Lance turns to look at me in surprise, and I try to keep my voice light... joking.
"No way, man. Already made plans with her for tonight."
"So cancel them," he says dismissively.
"Not gonna happen. Already itching to fuck her after that blow job," I say calmly.
Lance stares at me... his eyes blinking in almost disbelief that I'd challenge him. I'm in a very precarious position right now. If I push this, I'm rocking the boat with Lance and could make him suspicious. But fuck if
I'm going to let him take a crack at her.
Knowing what I know about Andrea... she's all in. She'd submit to him to keep up appearances, a thought that I literally don't think I could live with on my conscience. A small current of fear takes hold as I wait to see what Lance does, and I'm fearful because I know deep in my heart that I will jeopardize this entire operation before I let him touch a hair on Andrea's head.
"Dude... you're seriously trying to trump me?" Lance asks, and I relax a bit when I hear the teasing tone of his voice.
"Just consider it a bonus for the way I handled the Carla situation," I say with a smirk.
"Fucker," he says good-naturedly and punches me on the arm. He opens the door, and I follow him out of Simon's office. "Just don't wear her out. She needs to be in good shape tomorrow night. I'm sure her buyer isn't going to wait long before he taps that pussy."
I force neutrality on my face again and swallow the urge to strangle him for his crude words about Andrea. I know I'm taking this a bit too personally at this point, but fuck... the fact I just came down her throat not all that long ago sort of changes my perspective on things.
"I hear ya," I say, and then turn toward the stock room. "I'm going bring a few cases of beer over to the main bar. I saw they were running a little low earlier."
"Later dude," Lance says, and then he's heading toward the main stage.
Once inside the storeroom with the door firmly shut, I move in deeper past rows of stacked cases of beer and liquor. The music is muffled, and I'm confident I can't be overheard in here. Still, I keep my eye on the door while I quickly pull out my cell to call Mike.
"What's up?" he says when he answers.
"Bad news and good news. What do you want first?"
"Bad," he says.
"No more details on where it's going down. All I've been told is to have her drugged and waiting in Simon's office after closing."
"How about we put a tracker on Andrea?"
"No," I immediately say. "In fact, I'm not even going to have her armed when I put her in the car in the off chance Simon takes precautions and searches her. I'll slip her one of my guns at some point before it happens."
"Sounds like you're doing a lot of this without any formal plan," Mike muses. "Not sure I like that."
With a Twist Page 8
