“You’re quiet.” He waved me nearer, taking his time to watch and ogle before accepting the glass I offered. He sipped slowly, leaving me standing there awkwardly with the tray balanced on one hand and no tables to sit the second drink on. With the first glass finally empty, he sat back and rolled the glass between his fingers. His eyes never left me, moving up and down until my body felt heated as if I was standing next to a fire. Stinging ripples overtook my skin as it rose to goosebumps, leaving me helpless to the knowledge that he could also see my hardened nipples easily through my thin top.
“You want the second one, right?” I asked, hoping to hurry him along.
He lifted his eyebrows briefly. “I’ll get around to it.”
“I need to get to work.” I shifted my weight to relieve the pain in my feet and to keep myself going. No one mentioned the post-dance adrenaline crash could be so intense.
“You are working.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thighs. His breath moved against my stomach and up between my breasts as he stared up at me and spoke again. “I believe what you mean is that you need to earn your share. Would you rather be standing there looking tasty or outside rubbing skin with the crowd while doing it?”
He had a fucking point there, but I wasn’t fond of being described by a stranger as “tasty” and it didn’t make standing under his accessing gaze any more desirable.
His hand grazed my side and I stepped back. “No touching.”
“I touch what I want.” Grabbing the pocket on my apron, he pulled me closer and kept me there. “We can call in Devlin to set that straight.”
Contest it, my brain shouted, but his expression was unchanging and calm, and all I needed was to piss off Devlin. Again.
“You’re friends with him?” I asked.
“When it’s convenient,” he said with a slight scowl darkening his face. It quickly faded as his gaze settled on my face. “And you? How did you get involved with him? Tell me how he convinced you to work in his club.”
“I needed the job.”
“You needed the money—you suck at the job.”
I tried not to take the sting of his insult too personally. I knew he was right, but hearing the truth from the mouth of a stranger was a blow to my tenuous grasp on self-confidence.
“You’re not like the other girls.” He reached to touch my hair, but I swatted his hand away.
“It’s just first night jitters.”
“Jitters.” He made a sound in his throat. “Pick up that glass,” he said gesturing to the second glass on my tray. I did as he said, but he didn’t move to take it. He simply stared at it, so I instinctively followed his gaze, curious as to what was so interesting. The liquid sat there, steady in my outstretched hand with barely a ripple of movement that was more likely a result of the deep bass of the music rather than a shaky hand. We both stared in silence for a moment—and I wondered if he’d been testing me the whole time.
Why?
“You sure are steady for someone so ‘jittery.’” His hand shot out and grabbed the glass. The quick motion startled me for a second, but I didn’t move from my spot. Then, he downed the liquid in one gulp and returned both glasses to the tray before lifting everything from my hand and setting it on the end of the couch.
I felt everything passing around me in a muted haze. Maybe jitters wasn’t the right word, but it was something. Anxiety weighed down my senses and made it hard to think straight. I felt hands on my sides again, pulling me closer.
“Stop.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t listen, pulling my knees up so I straddled him on the couch.
“Please, I’m—” I struggled, but even in this position, I felt too relaxed. Too out of control.
“I’m keeping my pants on, darlin’. I’m smarter than to screw random strippers. Can’t say that for most of the other people here.”
My stomach rolled again, pushing me toward violently ill, but he didn’t seem to notice as his hand traced the shoulder strap of my top.
Run. Fight. Make him stop. But I didn’t move. His touch simultaneously heated my skin and stimulated the painful goosebumps.
“First night,” he nudged my chin. “Possibly the first time doing makeup as well.”
I turned my face away, considering feeding him some line about stage makeup being much harder to pull off than the everyday stuff, but he directed my gaze back to him, and I lost my train of thought.
“Why are you so interested?” I asked.
“Things that are out of the ordinary catch my attention.” His fingers traced my jaw, down my neck and shoulders to the edge of my top. “It’s a survival skill that you could use.”
“Please, stop.” I grabbed for his wrist and straightened to climb off his lap, but he held me in place and fielded my defenses faster than I could move.
“Didn’t Devlin tell you to never say no to a customer?” He was so close that the liquor on his breath assaulted my nose the way his hands and eyes assaulted my skin. “That’s why we pay so much to get in.”
My chest ached making every breath a delicate fight for control. In. Out. In. Out. I repeated the words in my head, searching for balance or some shred of normalcy. I grasped on to the conversation to pull myself back to the present. “What makes me so out of the ordinary?”
“You’re a nice girl.”
Why did that seem like the biggest insult of all?
“You’re not exactly a performer,” he continued. “Yet Devlin threw you up there. And he doesn’t ask strippers to serve drinks—especially not in this getup. So, he has a particular interest in getting you out in front of his customers.”
“And humiliating me.” The words slipped out too easily.
“What’s your name?” He seemed to be taking advantage of my verbal diarrhea as his hands moved to my hair, twisting it through his fingertips and letting it brush softly over my skin. He was distracting me further, but I managed to keep my mouth closed.
“Your real name”—he tilted his head to look under my lowered eyelids—“I can ask Devlin.”
“Aubrey,” I whispered. My eyes and limbs were immovable and numb to my pleas for control, but every touch was amplified a hundred fold as if I’d drank a dozen too many espressos. He caressed my face and without thinking, I leaned into his hand, desperate for warmth. Something was very wrong.
But he hadn’t given me anything to drink so he couldn’t have slipped me something. For a fleeting second, I considered that it might be something on his hands—absorbed through his touch, but that only happened on movies and TV, right?
“And where did you used to work?” His voice was calm and smooth—the only thing keeping me tethered to this room. The music of the club still pounded through me, but it was more of a physical sensation than a sound.
“Empire Hotel. Front desk.” There was no stopping it now. Not even the slightest attempt.
“Ah,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear and pulled out a C-note. “Want this?”
“Depends.”
“No. You either want it or not. Yes or no. What you’re willing to do for it is another question entirely.”
I squinted, fighting my way through the cloud. “Yes.”
He traced my jawline with the edge of the bill. “Course you do, darlin’. Why else would you be here?”
His touch felt like burning coals against my skin—assaulting, rough, and yet pleasant. Coarse fingers moved over my breast and squeezed it. Hard.
“Ah.” I gasped, snapping back to reality for a moment and pushing his arm away. “Stop. I don’t—I can’t.”
The heavy fog slammed back into place just as quickly as it had lifted.
“Should I keep my hands to myself?” He put them on my thighs, smiling slightly. The positioning drew my attention between my legs where a strange hot tension was building.
This couldn’t be turning me on. Something was seriously fucked up. The man patted the empty seat next to him and slid the money in my apron. “
That’s enough, I reckon. Although I’m not so sure Devlin will be so easily convinced.”
I moved off his lap, rolling to the empty seat because I didn’t trust my legs. Dropping my head against the back of the couch, I watched him as keenly as he’d been watching me when I entered. His cryptic statement left me on edge, but I didn’t have enough energy to think about it for long. The room blurred to the beat of the music. I blinked trying to clear my vision—to clear my mind, but my head felt heavy. At least I didn’t feel like vomiting anymore.
What’s wrong with me?
Before I could voice my words, there was nothing more than whispered voices, lights, and hushed touches.
Chapter 2
The last song of the night faded while the bartender cleared up after final orders, and I watched Aubrey stumble back toward the employee only door.
Damn, naive thing had no idea what she’d gotten into—or did she?
I popped a piece of gum in my mouth to get rid of the stale taste. I knew exactly what Devlin had in mind. I’d watched it happen—and it never ended well. He backed them into a corner, teased and taunted until they’d do just about anything to be free from him. This time, he’d gone a little heavy on the drugs, meaning she was more sensitive than he anticipated, or he had big plans for the evening.
Why did I care?
Why did I look into those clouded grey eyes and feel a pang of desire? Desire to have her bent over a table, taking my cock—a desire to keep my brother from getting there first.
It wasn’t as if I was leading any moral high ground. The things I wanted to do to women, well, that was an entirely different matter—one that didn’t require drugs or sweet talk.
One that propelled me toward the employee door. No one would stop me—they all knew better. Backstage had already erupted into the traditional post-closing party. Most days, I was shocked that anyone survived working at Addiction. Not that I was one to talk, but I wondered if any of the employees experienced a sober moment inside the building. The club lived up to its name—a constant stream of debauched activity even when doors were closed to the public. Devlin found ways to get medical records of every single employee since there wasn’t a damn thing they were above sharing.
And that’s why I never touched the girls.
Until now.
I told myself it didn’t count if I got there first.
Two strippers stood in the hallway hungrily making out with each other—much to the satisfaction of Tank, Devlin’s head of security. After a few moments, he hauled both of them into the bathroom, clearing my path straight down the hallway to Devlin’s office.
I slipped away from the crowd, hugging the wall as I approached Devlin’s office—I didn’t want him to see me until I was good and ready.
“Two hundred in tips—all in large bills—you’ll have to do better than that.” Devlin’s voice was snappy and cold. His true nature was devoid of humanistic traits. For him, emotion was an act. Always a means to an end and under perfect control at every moment.
Almost every moment—I lived to see the cracks in that control.
Aubrey stuttered. She was still out of it.
“Check all the tills and make sure they balance before she leaves the building,” Devlin said to someone else in the room.
“I didn’t steal it,” she said quietly. It didn’t take too long for her to catch on, so her little brain was working on some level. Thuds and scrapes echoed against the hard surfaces of the room.
“It was the man in the room.” Her voice was still soft, but high-pitched with fear. “Two scotches.”
There was a loud thud and she grunted. A normal person would have been fighting anger by that point, fists clenched ready to barge in and save the girl. My fists were clenched alright—because I was fighting back the hard on tightening my pants. The erection spurred on by the entire situation. I waited a bit longer, wondering how far I would let him go. How long I’d let the sounds tease at the deepest parts of my desire.
It all, of course, would be ruined if I let him have her first, so I exhaled and rounded the corner, leaning against the door frame. He had her pushed over his desk on her stomach with her bare ass in the air. She struggled against the solid oak of the desk but with the drugs still dominating her system, she didn’t stand a chance.
And she had no idea how much her struggles simply made things worse. My pants grew unbearably tight, and I shifted to relieve some of the pressure as it became more and more uncomfortable.
“She really didn’t steal it,” I said.
Devlin’s head jerked up and he squinted at me, a snarl growing on his lips. “And you know about any of this, how?”
“One, I was listening.” I took a casual stride, only letting my gaze break from Devlin’s for a split second to gauge Aubrey’s reaction to all of this. She blinked like she couldn’t focus and pressed her palms against the desk again. “Two, I gave her the money.”
Devlin glared at me, pinning her legs to the desk with his knees and holding one hand against the small of her back. “And what did she give you?”
“Nothing more than expected.” I shrugged, keeping my answer vague and encouraging him to use his imagination.
Her eyes were on me, but they were vacant. Devlin really didn’t know how to have any fun. He liked them drugged out and easy to manipulate for the first few times, at least—until, as he put it, “they learned to enjoy it and accept their fate.” It did make his game more effective, but it was the opposite of what I enjoyed. And I’d enjoy taking her twice as much if it came with screwing him over.
This fuck was going to be brilliant.
Even Devlin knew it. I could see it in his scowl.
“Looks like your employee could use a ride home,” I said.
“Mind your own damn business,” he growled. “Don’t you have your own job tonight?”
“Filled that order ahead of schedule and figured I deserved some fun.”
“Overachiever.” His jaw barely moved as he ground out the word.
Aubrey moaned, still trying to push herself up or squirm away from my brother and out of the uncomfortable position he held her in. Between her sounds and the sight of her, there was no relief for my erection.
“You play your game. I play mine,” I said, unable to take my eyes off of her.
“Since when does your game involve my girls?”
I shrugged. “She didn’t do anything wrong—thought I should set that straight.”
“You don’t know anything about her or our agreement.”
“Doubt it involves this.”
“Since when do you fucking care?” He straightened and moved away from the desk, at the moment, more concerned with me than her. He flipped his hand at me. “Stick with boosting cars—that’s what you’re good at. Stay in the shadows, tinker with your engines, and hang out with your damn bitch where you belong. Damn dog is the only one who can stand you.”
To him that was demeaning, but I was used to his mouth. Used to the constant stream of poison. Maybe my job didn’t get me laid as often, but getting it from a bunch of horny or drugged out strippers wasn’t my hit of choice. “Everyone has their night, ya know. And besides, I figured you’d be more concerned with the banging going on in the girls’ bathroom—”
Perfectly on cue, something crashed from the direction of the bathroom. The manager who’d been quietly waiting for our altercation to end ran out first. Devlin paused only long enough to poke me in the chest. “This isn’t over.”
Not by a long shot. I chuckled. Every once-in-a-while the universe played in my favor.
The girl straightened, dragging a hand through her tangled blonde hair. Her face was ashen and lax, and against her pale skin her light eyes looked muted and dull like a lifeless corpse. “Who are you?”
“Why bother asking when you won’t remember any of this tomorrow?” I picked her robe off the floor, but she stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself.
“But it’s not like you rea
lize that, do you?” I wrapped her robe around her. It barely grazed her thighs, but it’d have to do until we got outside. I wasn’t taking my time and waiting around for Devlin to return. I pushed her toward the back door and picked her up before her bare feet could hit the cold pavement. She was probably so out of it she didn’t even register the cold.
“What are you doing?” She mumbled kicking out her feet like she stood a chance at causing any real damage.
“Prefer Devlin?”
She eyed me for a minute, her brow furrowed—this was an unfair fight, but I wasn’t sure she grasped that. I stuffed her into the back seat of my car and tossed my jacket over her legs. It was a straight shot to my downtown apartment and in her current condition, I wasn’t afraid of her finding her way past the child locks or doing anything entirely stupid. And once I got her to bed, I had no doubt that she’d sleep through the night.
Chapter 3
My head seemed full of sand when I woke, so I didn’t dare open my eyes. Everything was strangely quiet—given that my apartment complex was usually a hotbed of parties, loud music, drunken sex, and children fighting around the clock. As I lay there, all I could hear was the sounds of the busy city streets and that seemed like crickets compared to a normal morning. I took advantage of the uncharacteristic peace and pulled the sheets tighter around me, the world wasn’t infringing on my rest and so I wasn’t ready to face it yet.
Then, glimpses of the night before began seeping in around the edges. The last thing I remembered with clarity was getting ready to walk out on stage. I didn’t remember leaving the club—or even how I got home.
I rolled over and noticed that the sheets smelled musky and unfamiliar, so I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the pale room. Blinds covered the large window at the side of the bed where muted light streamed in, broken up by the dark shadowed lines of the fire escape.
My heart thudded as I clenched the sheets—naked and alone in a foreign room.
Sitting up, I held the sheet to my chest. A pair of men’s jeans were tossed over the side of a hamper, and a T-shirt hung from the foot board. They were the only clothes in sight, so I quickly pulled the shirt over my head. At least it gave me some covering. I slid my leg over the edge of the bed, but the floor let loose a tiny squeak announcing my movement as soon as my foot hit the floor.
Ignition Page 2
