by Dee Garcia
“No, you won’t answer the question or no is the answer to the question?”
“No is the answer to the question,” she breathes.
Lies.
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe, sweetheart.” I smirk, my lips hovering over hers as I trap her body in my grasp.
“Monroe! Get your ass back on the dance floor!” That’s Betty barking over the music. “I’m not paying you to find your late-night conquest.”
Flashing her the finger, I keep my eyes on Vida, the smirk on my lips widening in satisfaction at her cheeks reddening all the more.
There’s my confirmation.
“Like I said, I find that hard to believe, but I won’t make you own up to it…yet. Come find me when you’re ready, baby.”
And with that, I leave her at the bar, speechless, mouth agape. I don’t want to peel myself away from her—almost can’t—but Betty’s watching me like a hawk. Knowing Vida’s here, though, clearly to see me nonetheless, ensures I’m most definitely going to be far more distracted than I was when the evening started.
Calvin’s on stage working his hot cop routine while Rush and Paulie rile up a 21st birthday party, leaving me to wander the floor from table to table. I’m not sure how much time has passed since walking away from Visa at the bar but, at some point during a highly entertaining lap dance, I feel a tap at my shoulder. Glancing back toward the source, a very flushed Vida awaits me, offering nothing more than a coy and very tipsy smile.
“I’m ready,” she quips, without a single regard for the woman I’m straddling.
This girl…
I give her a deliberate once-over and shake my head, trying to hide an appeased smile. “Go check if the room is vacant. I’ll be right there.”
Once again, her smile is the only answer she proffers as she swivels around and disappears through the club.
My eyes are glued to her ass the whole way.
Every vision that’d consumed me over the last week comes flooding back with a vengeance. I can hardly wait to get my hands on her, plan to break every single one of Betty’s even if it costs me this damn job.
I want her, and I’m gonna fucking have her.
Even if it’s for fifteen minutes.
As soon as one song fades into the next, I finish off the stay-at-home-mom beneath me with a bang and hustle my way to VIP faster than I have in the three years I’ve worked here. Vida’s already there waiting for me beside the bouncer. He nods and stands aside to let us by, not a single question asked.
“So are you going to admit you did come back for another dance,” I muse aloud as I lead us down the short hallway and push open the door.
Vida shakes her head, holding her chin up proudly. “No, but now that I’m here and I’ve had a few drinks, I figured why the hell not.”
The sassiness in her tone springs me into action before I can think my next move through. I’m on her faster than either one of us anticipated, pressing her face-front against the now closed entryway.
“You know I’m not buying that. Tell me why we’re here.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, breath hitching as I trail my hands along her curves.
“Lie to yourself, Vida. You know exactly why you’re here. Tell me.”
“I want more…”
“More of what?” I press.
“Of you,” her voice shakes slightly, “last weekend left me—”
“Crazy?”
She nods and a feral growl escapes me.
My fingers find the zipper of her skirt, guiding the tight fabric down her legs until she’s no longer confined. Black laced up panties with a little bow await my greedy eyes and I nearly fucking lose it, spinning her around with a quickness to scoop her up and shove her back into the door.
“I got one tiny taste of you. One,” I sink my teeth into her neck, “and it left me fucking starving. What the hell did you do to me?”
“Whatever you did to me,” she pants, tossing her head to one side, granting me better access to that delicate slope.
My lips are there in a nanosecond, stamping wet, sloppy kisses with nips of my teeth in between. Another swivel and I’m walking us to the couch.
Dropping down onto the plush cushion with her in my lap.
I ravish her mouth like a man starved, one hand in her hair, the other taking hold of her ass. She matches me tit for tat through her own assault, feverish kisses that have my dick anxiously twitching beneath my jeans.
“I don’t usually do anything like this,” she murmurs suddenly, prompting me to pull away and look her dead in the eye.
What I see there is entirely serious and, honestly, it doesn’t surprise me one bit. I think I’ve known it all along because, as gorgeous as she is, Vida doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who goes out looking for a one night stand often, if ever at all.
So what’s this about then?
“Then why are we here?” I ask her again, trying and miserably failing not to drag my hands over her body.
“I told you, because I need more. I need to have you, even if it’s just once…”
“Vida, I—”
“Don’t.” She sets a polished finger to my lips. “I know it’s insane, but God, I can’t stop thinking about you, about the things you could do to me. About how you’d feel inside me. That kiss awoke a side of me I’ve subdued for so long and I just... Please, Jag, just a little, tiny taste.”
How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that? That kiss was out of this world explosive, probably the best dance I’ve given to date, too…
"You're serious?" Even I can hear the anxious lilt to my voice.
"Very," she says with conviction, and that’s literally all I need before I’m digging into my pocket for a condom.
I’m not about to ask anymore unnecessary questions nor do I need her to explain why.
She wants to fuck? I’m here for it, was here for it since last week.
Fishing the foil packet out between two fingers, I pass it to her and pop the button on my jeans.
Those jeweled orbs are equally desirous, watching intently as I yank down the zipper and pull myself free. They widen, blazing wildly with fiery lust.
A cock-sure smirk plays on my lips.
I pump myself slowly, dropping her jaw a little more with every passing moment until she’s fumbling to roll the latex on me.
"Take these off for me," I demand, slipping a finger under her panties.
But she shakes her head.
Shutting her eyes in some painful, blissful state before pulling the thin material to the side, revealing the prettiest pussy I've seen in my life. Slick with her arousal, I have to hold myself back from tossing her onto the couch and burying my face between her legs.
"Don't be a tease," I growl, swiping the head of my cock through her lips. "Take 'em off."
"But what if someone comes in here?"
Fisting her hair in my hand, I yank her close and press my lips to her ear. "The door is locked, Vida. No one is going to come in here. Stop overthinking it and just take my dick already. I promise I'm gonna fuck you so good, you won't ever regret it."
She glances between us right at my throbbing dick, her lip caught between her teeth, and then in a mere fucking blink, she’s easing onto it with exquisite slowness. I groan hungrily, relishing the feel of her pussy enveloping me; how tight she is, how warm she is, how her head lolls back with every inch she takes.
How she moans for me.
Even with the condom rolled in place, she feels fucking amazing, my hands gripping her hips to seat her on me in entirety. Vida gasps as I fill her to the hilt, sighing something intelligible over the sounds of “Unforgettable.”
Pretty fucking apt if you ask me.
This woman is unforgettable alright.
“You feel so damn good, Vida,” I rasp, licking a trail up her neck. “So good, baby.”
“Mhmmm.” She nods, working my cock like it’s hers. “So damn good.”
I’m just abo
ut to tell her I have every intention of taking her home with me after my shift ends when an abrupt bang on the door stills her above me.
“Yo, Jag—you’ve been in there forever, bro! Get your ass moving before Betty catches on,” says Rush’s exasperated voice.
Vida gives me a weary, frustrated look, one I quickly destroy with a desperate kiss.
Fucking Betty and her bullshit rules.
“I’m gonna need your number,” I mumble against her lips, thrusting into her, “cause this right here is far from fucking over.”
I’m in the middle of a dance when a small hand wraps around my arm and pulls me off my client. At first, I assume it’s another impatient woman hoping to snag my attention, but then I realize it’s Vida. A determined look sits etched on her face. Even after what took place last weekend, I’m shocked as hell to see her. She smiles knowingly and then we’re off…
“Where are we going?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer and, truthfully, I already know given the fact she’s hauling me toward VIP.
Sure enough, as we near the opening of the corridor, the bouncer steps aside and allows us through without question.
Pushing through the door, she whips me inside, her chest rising and falling almost wildly as she secures the lock in place.
“Are you crazy? I was with a client,” I say, somewhat exasperated, but the second she pushes down the straps of her dress, I’m left speechless, gulping through an intense rush of desire.
“Strip, Jag,” she orders, advancing toward me with confident steps, her hips swaying side to side.
A trail of clothes follow in her wake.
In my surprised state, I manage to whip off only my shirt before she shoves me onto the couch and straddles my lap. I take a moment to drink her in and when my gaze slithers up to her mischievous stare, her mouth crashes into mine forcefully. Both hands threaded in her hair, I kiss her with equal ferocity, our tongues lashing against one another, teeth nipping in between, too.
“What are you doing to me?” My question is barely audible above the music. “What are you fucking doing to me?”
“Giving you more of what we both want,” she says, reaching between us to pop the button on my jeans…
Three weeks.
Almost three weeks have passed since that second night in VIP and I haven’t seen Vida since. I’m losing my goddamn mind, even with the frequent texts we exchange back and forth on a daily basis.
But I’ll take that over nothing at all.
Besides it’s not her fault. She’s been dealing with a contrite ex-husband who won’t accept he’s a little too fucking late.
Yeah, you read that right—an ex-husband.
Turns out I’m not the only one with baggage…
While I suffer from baby mama drama, Vida has an ex-husband who, apparently, is only now seeing the error of his ways, a year after their divorce has been finalized.
“He’s lonely in that palace,” is what she’d said to me when we aired our dirty laundry.
A palace that felt more like a prison than a home while they were together. That alone was one of the reasons why she’d been single since, focusing solely on the job he’d prevented her from having for so long. Although he’d allowed her to finish her education, when it came time to put her hard-earned degree to use, the man wanted a trophy wife. Vida dealt with it to keep him happy, spending hours upon hours in a luxurious mansion with nothing to do other than look pretty when he returned home from work.
But after some time, and with the help of her friends, she realized she wasn’t truly happy.
That she didn’t love him anymore.
And she was quick to act on it, hitting him with the divorce papers early one morning before he left for work.
Three-hundred and seventy-something days later, and here he is, persistent in his efforts to win Vida back.
I’m not having that shit.
His loss is my motherfucking gain.
No take backs.
Which brings us to now…
Me: I need you to do something for me.
That’s the text I just sent Vida before slipping out of my Lexus to the front doors of Palo Verde High School. She has no idea I’m here, and while I don’t how she’ll feel about that, I don’t really fucking care.
I need to see her.
Not only is this my way of reminding her that she’s better off without Rick, or Carl, or whatever the fuck his name is, but it’s also payback for our last night together. Her reply comes through as I wander the halls in search of her office.
Vida: I’m not sending you nudes.
