by Layla Frost
Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head in a way that made it clear I was trying to figure out who the hell he thought he was. “So you can boss me around and yell about things that aren’t your business, but I can’t say anything?”
“Exactly.”
I snorted. “That’s not gonna happen. Give me my keys.”
“No.”
“I have to get ready for work.”
He glanced at his watch. “In a few hours. Not that it matters since you aren’t going.”
His tone may have been even, but the thick muscle and pronounced veins in his forearms belied his tension.
“I can’t take a night off.”
“But for Crosby you will? You gave up a Saturday for him.” The anger emanating from him was nothing new, but the hurt in his eyes was surprising.
I hated seeing it.
“I gave up a Friday for myself,” I corrected. “Everyone deserves a break.”
The hint of a sardonic smile pulled at his lips. “That’s something we agree on. Which is why your break from that club will be permanent.”
Between his ridiculous proclamation and the cocky way he said it, I couldn’t hold back a laugh and eye roll. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”
Before my eyes finished their rotation, his shoulder went to my belly and he lifted me. Ignoring my startled yelp, he growled, “That fucking attitude, Eden. Did you think my warnings were idle threats?”
I bounced on his shoulder as he started up the stairs. “It isn’t up to you what I do or say.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he said, throwing my words and attitude back at me. Dropping me to my feet, he kept hold of my hips as he sat on the edge of his bed.
“Did you really just carry me like a sack of potatoes?”
“And I’ll do it again.” Before I knew what was happening, I was bent over his lap with my head hanging. One of his legs went over mine and his arm at my shoulder held me down.
My mind was trying to catch up with the sudden movements when his hand came down hard on my ass. I cried out as a stinging pain radiated.
“What the hell?” I thrashed, trying to move away. My struggle was cut off when his palm connected again.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time you gave me attitude. That very first week.” His hand landed again. “Now do you get why I didn’t talk to you?”
“No! Let me go!” I cried, humiliated tears gathering in my eyes. I wished I could go back and tell myself to be happy I didn’t have his attention. To be grateful he was ignoring me.
“I’d say you’ve earned at least seven more, and that’s because I’m feeling nice.”
“This is you feeling nice?” I screamed, trying again to move.
“If you don’t like my generosity, I could give you what you’ve earned.”
I frantically shook my head, my hair a rippling curtain that blocked my face. “No! No, no, no.”
“Take your punishment, and then we can talk, okay?” His tone was soft as he soothingly rubbed my back and ass, the tenderness at odds with what he’d been doing. With what he was planning to do more of.
I opened my mouth to argue. To roll away and scream at him, calling him every name in existence and then some made-up ones.
But nothing came out.
Instead, I nodded my head, telling myself I’d make it through seven more before getting my keys and leaving. For good.
His hand cupped my ass cheek, his tight hold renewing the sting. “Say it, Eden.”
I nodded again, my breath hitching as I quietly whispered, “Yes.”
He groaned and rearranged me on his lap until the thick, hard length of his arousal jerked against my stomach.
When his palm hit my ass, I jolted but not nearly as bad as before. I focused on counting down in my head, worried he wouldn’t stop at seven.
As soon as the last blow landed, he removed his hold on me completely.
Clumsily bolting up, I nearly tripped on my own feet, my legs weak as I violently shook like a leaf in a tornado. Tears streamed down my face.
“Eden,” he whispered, thick and agonized.
I rubbed my ass, rapidly backing away from him until I hit the door. My skin was hypersensitive, whereas my brain was hazy. “Why do you hate me?”
Intensity burned in his gaze, his quiet words harsh as he swore, “I could never hate you.”
“Then why’d you do that?”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked at his lap as he ran his palm down his face. “It’s who I am.”
“You don’t treat anyone else—”
“They aren’t you. They don’t torment me. Don’t tempt me.”
I crossed my arms. “I’ve never tried to.”
That wasn’t necessarily true. At the club, I’d definitely pushed him, single-minded in my need for a reaction.
I’d gotten one, all right, and my ass and I regretted it.
He didn’t call me out on my half-truth. “You didn’t have to try.”
I needed to leave. Needed space. I wasn’t willing to peek under the overwhelming hatred that dominated my jumbled emotions. Hatred was safe.
Hatred was smart.
Hatred was normal.
But Damien—he’d spanked my ass, he was no longer just a professor to me—seemed to be feeling talkative, and even my anger couldn’t drag me away from the chance to get the answers I’d been desperate for. “If you feel that way, why’re you always so mean?”
“Because I don’t trust myself.”
I didn’t believe a single word of his stupid—and incredibly clichéd—excuse.
Well, the forthcoming answers were good for the three-point-seven seconds they lasted.
“Right,” I drawled.
“Eden, what I want to do… what I get off picturing doing...” He shook his head. “This was a drop in the fucking bucket, and you’re already looking at me like,” he gestured to me and my closed off, defensive body language, “this. I couldn’t stand it if you looked at me worse.” I could hear the pain in his voice, the self-deprecating acceptance. “And you would.”
“Oh,” I whispered. It was a valid point since I was sure I didn’t look too pleased.
“Come here, angel.” He reached his hand out for me.
I wasn’t sure why, but my feet carried me to him before my brain could decide what to do.
Pulling me down onto his lap, Damien carefully positioned my tender ass between his spread thighs. “Are you okay?”
My body was tense. I was frozen, but not between fight and flight. It was flight and contentment that warred within me. Because, as badly as I wanted to deny it, a seductive sense of comfort had wrapped itself around me, confusing and wrong. That feeling alone was enough to show I needed to leave.
I nodded. “Can I go now?”
“No.” Damien lifted me so I stood in front of him.
When his hands went to the button on my jeans, I stepped away.
“It isn’t what you think. Trust me, okay?”
“No,” I said in the same simple way he usually did, offering no explanation and expecting no argument.
“Trust me,” he said again, his voice low and fierce.
It was no wonder my life was a tangled knot because I made stupid decisions. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and took a hesitant step forward. Not even a full one. It was more like a half-shuffle.
But it was enough to make his eyes flare with something good. Something wild.
I held my breath as he unfastened my jeans and slowly pulled them down. When they reached my ankles, he carefully lifted one of my legs to remove them and my shoe, his rough hands travelling up my calf. He repeated the process with my other leg. It was a tender act, again at odds with everything else.
He stood and gestured to the bed. “Lay down on your stomach.” After I did, he grabbed something from his nightstand before kneeling on the mattress next to me. His fingers brushed the sides of my hip as he hooked them in my panties and began pulling
them off, the lace abrasive on my raw cheeks.
I started to sit up, but he stopped with my panties just below my ass.
Not like he hasn’t seen it before.
The scent of vanilla filled the air as he rubbed something on my ass. It was soothing—the smell, the rubbing, and the cream itself. His hands dipped into my panties, rubbing lower to soothe the bottom of my cheeks. Instinctively, I spread my legs, and his hand slipped between my thighs.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted or what I was feeling beyond the physical. But the physical was enough because I was feeling a lot of that.
And I wanted even more.
His finger barely grazed me, but his sharp inhale meant he must’ve felt the wetness that coated my outer lips. He paused like that for a moment before pressing his thick finger between them. It was a quick, teasing touch then he was moving his hand away to resume caressing my only slightly tender bottom. Pulling my panties back up, his hand rubbed over the fabric, inching down to trace the wetness soaking it.
“Sit up.” His eyes followed my every movement as though there’d be a test on it later. Once I was sitting next to him, he reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Does that feel better?”
Surprisingly, it did. There was an ache, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Just… different.
I didn’t want to delve too deep into any of that, even to myself, so I just nodded.
He gave me a short nod. “Good.”
Needing to break the moment, I took advantage of his tenderness by holding out my hand and asking, “Can I have my keys now? I have to get ready for work.”
In a blink, the hardness was back in his midnight gaze as he stood. “I told you, you aren’t going.”
“I have to.”
“I said no. Drop it.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I held up my hand. “Don’t answer, I know you are. That doesn’t change the fact I need to work as much as I can before I mo—”
“You aren’t moving. Do you hear me?” His already deep voice lowered as he rumbled, “You’re never leaving me, Eden.”
Maybe I should’ve been scared. Definitely angry. Disgusted or outraged, rolling my eyes at his outlandishly possessive claims.
But as his voice thundered around me, the warning of a storm approaching, all I wanted was to strip naked and dance in it.
Before I could even think about how fucked-up that made me, he gripped my hand and pulled me to stand. His fingers speared into my hair, holding my head as his lips crashed down on mine, demanding and raw.
Desperate.
My hand went to his shoulder, the other clutched his shirt at his side. With one little push, I could end the kiss. I knew it, down to my bones. I had the power to end it all.
But I didn’t.
Because there was so much sizzle and crackle, my body thrummed with it.
The kiss spiraled until it toed the line between wild storm and uncontrolled hurricane. If it were up to me, I’d have leapt over the line without thought to the consequences—and there’d have been many.
Which was why it was probably a good thing when Damien cut off the kiss and the brewing storm. Keeping his face lowered to mine, he held eye contact. “You’re mine, Eden. And no one sees what’s mine but me. Never again. Do you understand?”
“No,” I whispered honestly.
“You will.”
If I stayed caught in his orbit, my mind muddled by lust and all things him, it wouldn’t even matter if I understood—I’d go along with whatever to feel the rush. The sizzle and crackle.
The reminder that I was alive. Not existing. Alive.
Get out before you mess up even more.
Steeling my spine and my resolve, I said, “I still have school work to do.”
“You can’t do it from here?”
“No, my stuff is at home,” I lied.
He held my eyes for a moment before nodding and stepping away.
I redressed in a silence I couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t awkward, nor was it comfortable. It was weighty and somehow loud.
Once I was ready, we walked down the stairs. I opened the door and almost stepped out but was stopped when his hand wrapped around my arm. I looked over my shoulder, my argument on the tip of my tongue, when I saw he was holding my keys.
Kinda need those, idiot.
He didn’t give them to me right away. The silence stretched as he studied me before something in his demeanor changed. It was so infinitesimal, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it. He dropped the keys in my waiting hand. “If you change your mind and want to come back, call me.”
My answering nod was cut off when his lips covered mine, the kiss slower than the last one, but no less desperate. Something tinged the edges of it, something toxic that left a bad taste in my mouth.
In my soul.
Giving in, I leaned into his kiss, second guessing my decision to leave—reinforcing my need to.
Once again, it was him who had the strength to end the kiss. His midnight eyes seared into mine, whispering something.
A plea.
A promise.
A threat.
Breaking away before I got lost in the storm, I forced myself not to run as I made my way quickly to my car.
“See you, angel.”
Not looking back, I lifted my hand to give a flick of the wrist wave.
Once I was on the road, I heaved a sigh. “Freedom.”
Only it didn’t feel like it. There was no lightness. If anything, I felt as though the knot that tied me up was being pulled tighter.
“I’m totally doing the right thing.”
The car didn’t say anything.
But the silence did.
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Dysfunctional Pendulum
Eden
My steps stumbled to a wobbling halt as I walked into the room later that night.
Shit.
I’d watched the door with the same vigilance I used to. But I hadn’t taken into account the time I spent in the back.
Or how well he’d come to learn my schedule.
Damien sat with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched in front of him, casual as ever. But I saw the anger behind his smirk and the antipathy glittering in his ever-darkening blue eyes. His dark hair was messier than usual, as though he’d been running his fingers through it.
I waited, but it was more of desperation than a true belief he’d speak.
Sure enough, his head dipped to the sound system.
When I pressed the button, none of my usual songs played. A hard rock beat thumped through the speaker, the singer’s bourbon-roughened voice filled with betrayal as he sang about a lying girl.
How fitting.
He must’ve messed with the playlist.
My movements were stiff and unsexy. Each sway and step was like moving through drying concrete, and I wanted to quit. I wanted to let my mask drop and let him see the pain.
Just once, I wanted someone else to carry some of the weight that was dragging me deeper into the concrete, threatening to suffocate me.
But I’d learned way too early in my life that the only person I could count on was myself. No one would carry me.
Working at Sinners may not have been glamorous or ideal, but it wasn’t bad.
Until that night.
The whole shift had been emotionally rough. Halloween was a few days away, so there were weekend specials that had the place packed. Three dancers, including Brittany, had quit, which had left us short-staffed. There’d been handsy assholes who’d thought they were above the rules. I’d had a few bad tippers, which were still better than the no-tippers I’d had.
And I may have been open-minded as long as what people did in their own time didn’t hurt anyone, but some of the shit they’d asked for tested that.
None of that had been as bad as the group of guys, dressed in their five-grand suits and two-hundred-dollar haircuts, who hadn’t been getting off on viewing the girls. No,
they’d been getting off on cutting them down.
They’d had no qualms about critiquing us to our faces while they’d explained why they hadn’t been worthy of dancing for them. The unfortunate few—including myself—they’d deemed ‘okay enough’ had been treated to a more in-depth rundown of their problem areas.
I’d known better. I could see the lust that’d gleamed in their malicious eyes. Each of them would’ve sold their soul for one night with me. They’d have torn each other apart for a blowjob.
But I’d never stoop so low, and they’d known that.
Which was why they’d been vicious. To compensate for their inferiority and their tiny penises.
The already exhausting experience had become that much more frustrating when the bouncers had refused to remove them. From a business standpoint, they’d been the kind of clients Sinners wanted more of. They hadn’t been fighting or perving. They’d thrown around cash on multiple high-price bottles of liquor, and their whole look had classed up the place.
To the bouncers, the men weren’t breaking the rules because none of them had laid a hand on a girl to hurt her physically.
But words hurt just as bad. Sometimes worse.
And I was greatly looking forward to proving that point when the hellish night wrapped up.
In my head, the know-it-all voice of regret had been extra chatty, reminding me that I wouldn’t have had to deal with the douche-canoes had I just called off.
The voice wasn’t my own anymore. No, it’d morphed into one that was low and rough, bossy and intense.
And the owner of it was watching me strip, his blank expression doing nothing to combat the storm in his eyes.
When I finished and bent to grab my clothes, Damien came to stand behind me. We weren’t touching, but I could feel the heat radiating off him. I stood, steel infusing my spine as his breath fanned across the spot where my exposed shoulder met my neck.
He tugged gently on the feathered wings. “Love the costume, angel.”
It’d been a stupid thing for me to dress as for Halloween. I’d tried to tell myself it was just a costume, but I knew it was more. And by wearing it, I showed Damien that, too.
“You have ten minutes to leave,” he ordered on a low whisper. “Bring anything you want to see again because you’re not coming back. If you’re not outside in ten minutes, there will be no scene.”
