I wait for her by the DJ booth. She’s so happy when she walks by, she doesn’t notice me. “Come here, darlin’.”
She turns. “There you are. You’ll never believe how much money I made in four songs.”
“Tell me.”
Her hands slip around my arms, then she stands on her toes and whispers near my ear, “Three hundred dollars.”
Although the club is dimly lit, I see the shimmer of perspiration on her body. She danced her ass off for that money. I’m glad to see a genuine smile on her face. “I want to show you something before we leave.”
She looks around the club. “I thought we covered everything.”
“Come on.” We walk a few feet to VIP. Sam is working the door. We bump fists and he lets us in. We’re the only ones inside. I pull out a chair. “Sit.” She does. “One more test before you get hired.”
She arches a brow. “What?”
My throat goes dry. “Dance for me.”
She scans the room. “Here?”
“Yes.”
“But I’ve never done a table dance before.”
“Then I’ll be your first. Here…I’ll help you.” I scoot my chair out. “Stand between my legs.” She does so reluctantly. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” She’s wound too tight; maybe she’s afraid to get too close to me again. “Relax. Sway your hips the way you did onstage.”
At first she barely moves, but after a few minutes, her defenses drop. “Turn around.” She does. I unhook her bra with two fingers. She gasps, then shivers as it falls to the floor. “Look at me, baby.” She crosses her arms over her breasts. “Don’t hide from me.” I cover her tiny hands with mine and urge her arms apart. I suck in a long breath. I can’t get enough of her. “Cover me with your hair while you brush your breasts across my face.” Ever so lightly, the tips of her nipples tickle my skin. What sort of man would ever hurt her? I straighten, slowly taking in every perfect inch of her body.
“Is this how you want me to dance for everyone?”
My chest tightens. No. “Only for me.”
She’s moving more naturally now and rests her knee between my legs on the edge of the chair. I bury my face in the creamy valley between her breasts and she squeezes them together. Softly. So perfect, I almost come in my pants. I breathe in her perfume—a subtle floral scent. I growl and clutch her hips. She looks down at me and swings her head. As I guide her middle, she thrusts, then sways her hips side to side. I shut my eyes, letting mental images of her lithe body fill my head. She skims my face with her breasts again, and I kiss her nipples.
She jerks away, stunned. “You can’t do that in here.”
She hasn’t figured me out yet. “Oh, but I can, and I plan on doing it again unless you come home with me tonight.” I grin with self-satisfaction.
Her eyes narrow. “What if I refuse?”
“I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.” She takes a deep breath. She’s wondering if I’m the kind of man who keeps my promises. I am. Her perfect lips form the most attractive frown I’ve ever seen. I laugh softly. I know what Marisela craves. “Care to test me?”
She shakes her head.
“Go put your street clothes on and meet me by the front door in ten minutes.”
She’s convinced I’ll do it. And at this point, I will.
—
My heart beats with anticipation as I walk to the dressing room. I shouldn’t fall for that ridiculous alpha shit. I shouldn’t like him at all, but I do. I’ve always been drawn to jock types—jerks, really. I smile inwardly. But I sense something different about Craig that I’m sure most women overlook because they’re distracted by his physical attributes. Don’t get me wrong—I could stare at him forever. But after months of misery with Estevan, I need to feel good. Alive again. I want to laugh and talk all night. And I want to make love on my own terms, even though Craig thinks he’s in charge.
None of the girls acknowledge me. I don’t care; Robyn warned me about the cold-shoulder treatment. I left my duffel bag on the floor earlier. I unzip it and pull out a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. I lay them on the corner of the nearest vanity, then kick off my heels. It’s so cold in here. I slide into my Levi’s and reach for my top. When I shake it out, a used tampon falls on the floor. I stare in utter revilement. It’s not my time of the month. There’s a bloodstain in the middle of my shirt. I hear snickering. I look behind me. No one meets my gaze. How am I supposed to find out who did this? Eight or nine girls are lounging, all of them openly enjoying the spectacle.
I’m pissed. Hurt. Offended beyond expression. “Who does that?” I ask angrily. No answer. There’s a sexy half-shirt among the costumes my sister gave me; I dig it out. I’ll wear it home. I look down at the tampon again. Really? Immature little…The dressing room door opens. It’s Craig.
He looks at me. I’m still topless. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Almost ready, darlin’?”
I know my cheeks are red, so I avert my eyes.
“What’s wrong, Marisela?” He moves closer. He immediately spies the tampon and T-shirt on the floor, near my feet. “Is that yours?”
“No,” I snort. “I’d never do that.”
He nods. “Is that your shirt?” He points at it.
“Yes.” That’s all I’m going to say.
Without another word, he squints at the girls sitting at the tables. “Catty little bitches,” he says. “Haven’t I warned you about doing this kind of shit before? Clean it up. I expect to see all of you at the employee meeting on Monday. If not, I’ll write you up.” He shakes his head in disgust and faces me. “Have another shirt to wear?”
“Yes.” In my hand. I put it on and slip into my heels.
Craig throws my duffel bag over his shoulder and takes my hand. “Ready to get out of here?”
More than ready.
Chapter 7
The minute we cross the JFK Bridge, my cellphone rings. It’s in my lap. Estevan’s number. Crap. I ignore it, but it rings again. Incessant calling and other forms of harassment is his M.O. It’s how my ex keeps himself in my head—in my life. He knows it and I hate it. On the third call, I pick up.
“What?” His chain of garbled profanities tells me he’s been drinking. “I’m so happy college is paying off for you. With a choice vocabulary like that…You’re in Corpus?” I’m stunned silent. I gaze at Craig. He’s staring at me.
“Ask him where,” Craig whispers.
“Where are you?” At his cousin’s, Ishmael Torrez, a real piece of work who used to hang around Austin every weekend. “No, I’m not coming over. I want you to leave me alone, Estevan. Sure—that gets my attention. Yeah, makes me want to drop everything and grovel at your fucking feet.” I hang up. More threats. I’m sick of it. Maybe Craig should take me home; I’m exhausted.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says before I have a chance to ask.
Great, he’s mind reading again. I’m useless. I admit it. Estevan is the only real boyfriend I’ve ever had. There were a couple of guys in high school I made out with. Nothing serious. Despite Craig’s reputation as a philandering pig, he’s treated me better than any other man has. I’m thankful for his compassion and company right now. “How did you know?”
“You’re a little predictable, kid.”
I scowl. I hate when he calls me that. “You’re not that much older than me.”
“Nearly six years.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess that makes you geriatric.”
“It makes me something…” He glances at me. “What did he say this time?”
I stare out the passenger-side window. I don’t want to ruin the moment—I like feeling happy.
“Marisela.” He turns down his street. “Tell me.”
“He’s staying at his cousin’s on the west side.”
Craig pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. Neither one of us moves. “Does he know where Robyn lives?”
“No,” I answer. My whole
body tenses. “He doesn’t know where any of my family lives, but he knows their names.” My shoulders sag. Corpus is the kind of place where there are only two degrees of separation between people. “I’m sure he’ll find me with a couple of phone calls. And…” It hits me. What if he calls my parents? Oh shit. I haven’t even called them yet.
“And?” Craig’s hand grips my thigh.
I gaze at him. “Estevan wants to destroy me.”
“Why?” His eyes make me weak-kneed. “What did you do to piss this guy off? Cheat?”
I gape at him. Does he really think I’m capable of stooping so low? “I’m not you.”
He grunts and squeezes my leg harder. “I don’t mess with girls in committed relationships,” he assures me. “There are too many single women out there to risk getting shot at.”
What an arrogant slut. “You don’t hide anything, do you?” Why am I jealous? There’s nothing between us, not really.
“Do I need to?”
I remember all too well my sister’s random texts about Craig. His relentless pursuit. His jealous outbursts whenever he saw her with Garrick. The close-to-stalking behavior he exhibited before Robyn fully committed to my brother-in-law. And then I squeamishly recall the night I first laid eyes on him at Robyn’s apartment. I mistook him for Garrick. When I found out he wasn’t, my heart skipped a beat. I had the hots for him even then. Maybe that’s why I’m here now. Fulfilling a teenage fantasy. Maybe I’m just a self-deprecating idiot who falls for losers. “Maybe you should.”
“Really?” He leans over the center console. “Jealous?”
Pushing buttons again, all the right ones. I’m in complete denial. I look him directly in the eyes. “Of what? You? I can have my choice of men.”
“Careful, baby,” he says, his eyes still focused on me. I can’t read his expression.
I pull back a little. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.” I hear my door lock. Child-safety mechanism. Great, more of that kid crap. He pounces—his right leg slides over my seat. I’m stuck between him and the locked car door. He frames my face between both hands and pulls me close. His mouth locks over mine. I imagine slapping him. But my traitorous body opens up instead. My lips part and his tongue pins mine. See, I am useless. Prone to this guy’s lethal seduction.
He pulls back and I shut my eyes, his masculine scent all over me. Damn him. “See…” God, he’s cavalier. “…one kiss and you’re tongue-tied.”
“Yeah.” I glower. “Because you rammed your big effin’ tongue down my throat.”
“I’d like to ram something else somewhere else.”
“Fuck off,” I croak.
He gives me a dark look. I cross my arms over my chest. He hits his keyless remote, slides out the driver’s side, slams the door, struts to my side, opens the door, and offers me his hand.
“What?” I snap.
“Get out of the car, now.”
“Take me home.”
“No.”
We’re deadlocked. Too stubborn to give in—too egotistical—yes, I am too—to admit there’s more than sexual tension between us.
“Get out.” I smack his hand away and climb out myself.
Craig’s neighbor is washing his Porsche in the next driveway. I look in his general direction and he smiles. I wave—he’s cute. I hear Craig exhale. I’m not interested in pursuing an argument or staying here much longer. I’m still staring at the neighbor when I see Craig unlock his front door. Good, he’s going inside. Instead, once the door is open, he marches toward me.
“Hey, John,” he calls to his neighbor. “You’ll have to excuse us…” He sweeps me off my feet. John shakes his head and smiles.
I kick my legs. “Put. Me. Down.”
“Be still, you little brat.”
I kick again. “What’s wrong? Jealous?” We’re inside now. He kicks the door shut and carries me to the sofa. He drops me on the leather cushions. I bounce. Before I can get to my feet, he lowers himself on top of me. He pins my hands above my head.
“Flirting…in front of me?” He can’t finish his thought. His mouth captures mine. There’s nothing gentle about the kiss. It’s brutal, possessive. I squirm. I need to get away. I’ll ask John for a ride. Anything but stay here and let Craig win. Anything…His massive hand slides between my legs. He caresses gently at first, then angrily. I’m so wet. It feels so good. I won’t be able to remember my own name soon if he doesn’t stop.
—
She’s provoked me for the last time. Toying with me—fucking flirting with John in my front yard. I feel her excitement through her jeans, all heat and moisture. I can’t curb my frustration. I need to be inside her. I want to hog-tie and tease her. She deserves it. My dick throbs. I’m pissed. In lust. Jealous. I’m still holding her wrists with one hand. I love how she looks stretched out underneath me. Almost helpless. But I know she wants me. She can’t hide anything from me. She wants me to fuck her. I’m going to. Now. On this couch.
I release her hands. She doesn’t move. She’s wide-eyed and restless. Afraid. I unzip her pants and seek the liquid heat I felt. Holy shit. I can smell her excitement. My fingers slide inside her. She moans; her hips jerk. She’s ready. I’m ready. I thrust deeper. She sighs, then rides my hand. I close my eyes, withdraw my fingers, and then suck on them. So sweet, so fucking sweet. I stand and slap her high heels off. Next, I tug her jeans off. I gaze at her—the tiny lace panel covering her snatch reminds me of a bow on a holiday gift. My gift. I’m about to tear into it. I’m so hard it hurts to move. I slide out of my pants and boxers.
She’s staring at my shaft. I close my eyes and groan. I’m too vulnerable with this one; her gaze penetrates deep. I open my eyes, then peel off my shirt. I cover her body with mine, rubbing my cock up her wet slit, across her stomach, and down again. Her skin is burning. We’re covered in her juices. I stretch, fisting her long hair. “Protection. Upstairs.”
She shakes her head violently. “Don’t go. I’ve been tested recently—I’m safe.”
My gaze is locked on hers. “So am I, every three months. You sure?” I know better, but the temptation is too strong—I don’t want to stop.
She swallows, hard. “I want to feel you—all of you.”
My knee instinctively comes up between her thighs. I nudge her legs apart and push her panties aside. I’m big—it’ll hurt. I position my cock at her opening. She bucks against me. I smooth hair out of her face, framing her cheeks with both hands. I love looking at her eyes. Those full lips. Even her little Roman nose. I kiss it. Unidentifiable feelings wash over me. I care—too much. She moans. I kiss her eyelids and cheeks. I nibble her throat. Our hips spiral. I feel an electrifying pulse, then I gently bite her lower lip. Her tongue seeks my mouth and I catch it with my teeth, then cover her lips with mine. God. The moment our tongues collide I thrust inside her. She cries and I freeze. She’s too small.
“All right?” I whisper, nuzzling her ear.
She nods. I’m only halfway inside her. I thrust again. I grit my teeth—holy shit. With a last lunge I’m completely sheathed. Her slit is so tight. I pump. Pleasure shoots up my spine. It feels like she’s gripping me with two fists. I can’t stop moving. I withdraw halfway and drive into her. Again and again. She’s wild—loud. It turns me on too much. All the squirming and moaning. I stop to recover my endurance.
She cries and grips my arms. “More.”
I reach down and lift her legs. “On my shoulders, baby.” My mind is sharply focused on that split she did onstage.
She’s unbelievably flexible—a gymnast or some shit. Her heels rest on my shoulders. My gaze sweeps her face. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted. I force her shirt up and cup her breasts. I pinch her nipples and she exhales. Very slowly, I start to move. I’m so deeply rooted inside her I swear I hit bottom. Her eyes pop open. I see hunger in them—unadulterated pleasure. I’m so close to bursting. I intensify my strokes. Hell, I’m pumping mercilessly, half punishing, half rewarding
her. No woman does this to me. No one. Within minutes she’s pulsing, the muscles inside her snatch gripping me so tight I can’t hold it.
“Marisela, shit…” My hips jerk and I throw my head back. Release, finally. I come in painful waves inside her, completely spent.
I gently lower her legs. She’s so beautiful. I flip her on her side and curl behind her. It’s done now. I’m not sure what’s going to happen after this. We moved way too fast. But I know what’s not going to happen. Estevan or any other asshole won’t come near her as long as I’m in the picture. For now, Marisela Gonzalez is mine.
Chapter 8
I wake up when the AC kicks on. It’s noisy. Craig’s arms are wrapped around me. He’s still asleep. What time is it? I check my watch. Midnight? We’ve been passed out for three hours. Disabled by our lovemaking. I can’t believe we did it. I should feel ashamed—I’m not. I wanted him. I want him again. But I need to get home. Robyn is probably worried. I slip off the couch, careful not to wake him. I kneel, feeling my way around in the dark for my pants—my cellphone is likely in my back pocket. Where are my jeans? Damn it. I scoot around the other side of the couch. Moonlight is flooding through the open blinds. I can see well enough not to smack my head on any furniture.
Under the side table along the opposite wall? I get on all fours and reach. A light turns on. I gasp. Please don’t see me like this, please. My ass is facing the kitchen, hiked in the air. That’s where the light came on. I reluctantly, almost painfully, look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Craig is leaning against the counter, naked, his arms crossed over his chest, fully erect, his face twisted with lust.
“Like to put yourself in compromising positions, don’t you?” he asks.
I don’t know what to say. I know what I want…wish for. “Looking for my pants.”
“These?” I back away from the table, then stand. My jeans are hanging from his fingers.
“Can’t you be nice—even now?”
“It’ll cost you, baby.”
“I think I already paid you full measure.”
His eyes twinkle. “I can’t deny that. Come here.”
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