by Katy Kaylee
His words made me feel sick to my stomach. Was I better than this? I was nothing special. Just a girl raised in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Chicago. My parents were addict trash.
If anything, I was about right where I deserved to be.
“You should go,” I said. I was unable to tear my eyes from Harrison’s gaze. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to miss Madison’s dance entirely.”
Harrison didn’t let me go. He pulled me closer, leaning in until his face was mere inches from mine.
“I won’t let you go,” Harrison growled. “I’m not letting you get back on that stage.”
“You don’t own me,” I replied hotly. “In fact, if I remember clearly, I’m nothing more than a mistake to you,” I said, spitting the word like it was corrosive poison.
Harrison shook his head. “No, Paris,” he said. “No. You’re so much more to me than just that.”
Before I could reply, his mouth was on mine, kissing me hotly. Arousal spread through my body like wildfire and I melted into Harrison’s arms, melted against his strong frame. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body to his without even thinking about it. Being with him was like second nature, and soon my tongue was dancing with his, tasting him. Harrison nibbled at my lower lip and I moaned softly and wriggled my body. Pushed against his hard torso, my breasts tingled and my nipples stiffened. Just kissing him was enough to make me wet, and when Harrison shoved one of his broad thighs between my bare legs, I gasped as pleasure raced through my body.
I couldn’t help myself. Surrendering to him was the only thing I could do. What had happened last night had done nothing to diminish my passion for Harrison, and my body was aching with lust for him.
“I want you,” Harrison growled. He tangled a hand in my hair and kept my face pressed close to his as our kiss grew more intense. My heart was thudding so fast that I worried for a moment it would burst. When he broke the kiss, he stared at me with his intense blue gaze. Poring into his eyes, I felt like I could disappear there.
“Do you want me, Paris?” Harrison growled.
All I could do was nod.
11
Harrison – Saturday
She was mine. She was in my arms, panting and clawing and scratching at me. She was kissing me with that ripe mouth of hers, dancing her tongue along the inside of my mouth. She was moaning and pressing her round, natural tits against my chest and begging me to fuck her.
God, I wanted her so bad that I knew in that moment I’d never be able to stay away from Paris Malone.
I ran my hands over her body, drinking her in with my fingers, eager to touch every inch of her perfect, porcelain skin. My hands roamed and strayed over her curves, squeezing her ass until she moaned loudly into my mouth. Without breaking our passionate kiss, I walked her backwards and we collapsed onto a velvet sofa together in a tangle of limbs. Paris was underneath me, panting and straining, her legs already spread. She was wearing a sequin-covered bra that pushed her tits into an obscenely high cleavage and a thong, which perfectly divided the cleft of her ass into two perfect globes. I’d never been much of a man for lingerie, but seeing her like that made me throbbing and hard.
“Mmmn,” Paris moaned. I flipped her over, until she was on her stomach, and she spread her legs and arched her back. Her perfect, firm ass was sticking high in the air and I could already smell the fragrant musk of her pussy. As I reached between her legs and rubbed her through her thong, Paris whimpered and moaned. She twisted her hips, bucking and thrusting her ass towards me.
Begging me to take her.
I reached beneath her chest and cupped one of her tits in my hand, rubbing and squeezing and pinching her nipple until she was howling with pleasure into the seat of the couch. My own cock was throbbing so hard that I thought I would burst with lust, and my balls were aching with my seed. I wanted to fill her with my cock, thrust and bury myself deep inside of her wet, velvety pussy until I gave her my seed.
Paris raised herself on all fours, then looked at me over her shoulder. She licked her lips as we made eye contact, then turned around and her fingers flew to my shirt. She unbuttoned it with rapid haste, pulling the cotton away from my body and throwing it to the side. I groaned as Paris dipped her head to my chest, licking and sucking and moving her hands over my bare skin. It felt so good that I threw my head back and screwed my eyes closed. She moved her hands lower and lower, fumbling with my pants and yanking them down until they were pooled around my bent knees. Paris rubbed my hard dick through my boxers, then yanked them down and my cock bobbed free. She dropped to her hands and knees and started sucking me, flicking her tongue against the tender underside of the head. It felt so good that I saw stars. Hot pleasure raced through my veins like lava and I tangled a hand in Paris’s hair, thrusting into her mouth until I was nearly buried down her throat.
Paris pulled away. She looked up at me, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, and then licking her lips. She was breathing hard and her tits were heaving with each breath. Without taking her eyes from mine, Paris pulled her top down and her breasts spilled out. Her pink nipples were magnificently hard and I leaned closer and flicked my tongue over them, one at a time, until Paris cried out with desire. I reached for her thong and pulled it down her round hips, exposing her gorgeous pink pussy. I could see she was soaking wet and the smell was intoxicating. Pushing her onto her back, I crawled between her legs and leaned over her body. My hands went right to her breasts and began massaging them, rolling her nipples between my fingers until she squirmed and whined and moaned. I rubbed my thigh between her legs, hard, until she was grinding her wet pussy against it. Knowing how much she wanted me – that she couldn’t even control herself – made me even hotter.
I gently pushed Paris to the side and lay down on the couch, on my back. She knew what to do, and crawled on top of me, staring down at me as the heat of her pussy teased my hard cock.
“I want to ride you,” Paris said in a breathy whisper. Her cheeks were damp and flushed scarlet as she took my cock in one hand and held it steady as she lowered herself down against my body. As I entered her soaking cunt, I arched my back and groaned. Paris didn’t ease herself down – she impaled herself on my manhood, hard, and began to frantically rock her hips against my body. Her tits were bouncing with every motion and I pinched and played with her nipples as she rode my cock.
“You feel so fucking good,” I groaned, unable to stop myself. Every motion, every movement was only sending me into a paroxysm of desire. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came, and I slipped my hand between our bodies and began to rub Paris’s clit.
She shrieked and moaned, writhing and undulating her hips on my cock as she ground against my touch. Throwing her head back, Paris bit her lip and shook as I flicked her clit with my fingers. She was so wet that I could feel her juices flowing down my hips every time she rose her body, and I shuddered knowing that I was the one who had brought her to such a state.
“Yeah, baby,” I growled. “Fucking come for me, baby!”
As if on command, Paris’s whole body began to shake. She trembled and gasped as her orgasm took over and I watched her face, staring as her expression changed into one of heavenly pleasure. Her pussy clenched my cock and it sent me over the edge. Clenching Paris by her ample hips and digging my fingers into her, I thrust up, as hard as I could. My cock sprayed seed deep inside of her and we rocked together in an animalistic, sensual rhythm.
Breathing hard, Paris looked down at me. Her lips were in a perfect little ‘o’ and I was about to sit up and kiss her when there was a loud knock at the door.
“Oh my god,” Paris squealed, pulling her bra over her tits and leaping off me. She reached for her thong and stepped into it, hopping on one foot and cursing under her breath.
For a single second, I was frozen. Then, my cop training kicked in and I flew up from the couch. I grabbed my clothes and yanked them on.
Paris pointed to a Japanese screen, standing
in the corner of the room and I frowned at her.
“No fucking way,” I said quietly, shaking my head. “I’m not letting you get on that stage, Paris!”
Paris narrowed her eyes at me and frowned. “If you hide now, I won’t,” she said softly.
Rolling my eyes, I darted over to the Japanese screen and hid myself behind it. There was a small slit of space between each wooden panel, just enough for me to keep an eye on what was happening, but my heart was pounding.
Paris went to the mirror and made an attempt to straighten her hair just as the second knock sounded. It wasn’t a friendly sound – it was loud and demanding, just the way a cop would knock.
I stayed behind the screen, crouching down, and listened as Paris opened the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. With one eye to the screen, I watched as Angel stepped inside.
“Why the hell was the door locked?” Angel asked. He narrowed his eyes at my beautiful girl. “You’re new, so I’ll let it go, but that isn’t something we do around here.”
Paris flushed and looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said again. Then, looking up at Angel, she smiled shyly. “It’s just ... well, I was feeling a little shy. That’s all. I must have left my robe at home.”
Angel smirked. He gave Paris a licentious grin that made me want to punch his lights out. Unconsciously, both of my fists balled up, ready for a punch.
“Come here, doll,” Angel said. He was smiling now, and he put his hands on Paris’s shoulders and led her to the mirror, standing behind her.
“What is it?” Paris asked. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.
“You ain’t got no reason to be shy,” Angel said. His voice was a velvet caress, and he began slowly running his hands up and down Paris’s bare arms.
Seeing him do that sent a bolt of hot, angry jealousy through my gut and I clenched my teeth.
Paris giggled nervously. She gave Angel a shaky smile, but he didn’t take his hands away from her peach-soft skin.
“Your body is amazing, doll,” Angel said. He made eye contact with Paris in the mirror and grinned at her. “You know that, right?”
Paris swallowed.
“You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” Angel said. “I don’t hire dogs.”
“I’m sorry,” Paris said. I watched her reflection, watched her gnaw at her lower lip. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work. I don’t think I can do it.”
Angel frowned at her. “You just got yourself a little bit of stage fright,” he said. “It happens to new girls all the time.” There was a beat, and then he said: “Trust me, doll. I saw you dance last night. You got moves, and you know it.”
Paris put her hands on her trim stomach and licked her lips. “I really do feel sick,” she insisted. “I’m afraid I’ll throw up.”
That pig, Angel, still had his hands on her and I wanted nothing more than to cross the room and yank him away. For a moment, he scowled. But then, he began to slowly nod his head and a smile spread across his face.
“Look, doll, why not take the night off,” Angel said. “I bet you dollars to doughnuts, you’ll feel a lot better after you go home and count all the money you made last night.”
“Thank you,” Paris said. “I really appreciate it, Mr. Hernandez.”
“Angel,” Angel said. He flashed Paris a big grin in the mirror. “And doll, listen: when you come back tomorrow night, I can guarantee that you’ll make triple of what you did last night.”
Paris’s eyes widened and she pulled away. “Oh my god,” she said. “Wow.”
Angel was still smirking at her, leering in a way that made me want to kill him.
“Of course,” he said generously.
“Thanks for the night off,” Paris said. “I really appreciate it.”
Angel walked over to the door and held it open, gesturing with his head for Paris to follow him. She gathered her things, threw a quick, anxious glance at the Japanese screen, and then the two of them left together.
I groaned and closed my eyes. Fuck, I thought. Triple her salary?
There was definitely something else going on here besides the drugs, but there was no way I wanted Paris dragged into it.
I waited a couple of minutes, then straightened my clothes and slipped out of the dressing room. Back in the main area of the club, a stripper I didn’t recognize was crawling around on stage, pushing her tits together with her hands and feigning intense pleasure. As soon as I sat down at the bar and flagged the bartender, I saw Madison. She pouted at me from across the room, then jogged over as best as she could on her platform sandals. She was wearing a bustier top and a matching thong, with stocking held in place by garters. Everything about her was so generic and manufactured that it nearly made me sick.
“Baaaaby,” Madison whined, putting her hands on my arm and breathing the scent of menthol cigarettes into my face. “Where were you? You missed my dance,” she added, batting her fake lashes at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pasting a smile on my face. “I’ll make it up to you. Swear it.”
Madison smiled coyly. “Come here,” she said. She tugged at my arm until I got up from the barstool and followed her into the back of the club. There was a long hall, flanked with curtained partitions.
“You can buy a lap dance, baby,” Madison said sweetly. She led me to the end of the hall and pushed the curtain aside, leading me into a small, dim room with a padded bench and a pole in the middle. As she turned and fumbled with the stereo speakers mounted on the wall, I frowned before sitting down.
Music – some top fifty pop bullshit – filled the air and Madison turned to me. She batted her eyes at me as she stripped out of her bustier and thong, tossing them to the ground. Giving me what I’m sure she thought was her most seductive smile, Madison moved forward and bent over, rubbing her body against mine and moaning softly under her breath.
I felt nothing.
Even if I hadn’t just fucked Paris, I wouldn’t have felt something.
I couldn’t feel anything – not while Paris was out there in the world, and I was in this private little hell with Madison Maxx.
I had to play the part, though. It made me sick, thinking of what Paris would think or say if she saw Madison grinding on me like the slut that she was.
“You can touch, baby,” Madison cooed. She looked at me over her shoulder and winked. “I won’t tell anyone.”
The last thing I wanted to touch was that plastic body of hers, but I put my hands on her thighs, playing the part of a good, devoted boyfriend. Madison humped and rubbed her ass on my crotch, moving to the rhythm of the music, and I just waited for it to be over.
I hadn’t had sex with Madison – and I sure as hell didn’t intend to, especially not since things between Paris and me started heating up.
In fact, to be perfectly honest, I felt nothing but revulsion towards Madison Maxx, star of The Pink Diamond.
As Madison “danced”, I heard Steve’s voice in my head.
Find a way to get the code names, Hendricks.
If Madison knew anything, I had to find a way to make her talk.
12
Paris – Sunday
As I sat at the dinner table with Hollie and Harrison, I couldn’t keep my mind from running all over the place with lustful, horny thoughts. After leaving the club yesterday, I’d gone straight home and laid in bed. My panties had still been soaking wet and despite having come harder than I did the first time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting Harrison again.
It was getting bad. Thinking about him made me want to touch myself. Even sitting across the table from him was difficult.
And Hollie wasn’t making it easy, either. The only thing I was grateful for was the fact that Hollie was almost always oblivious about her surroundings. We’d actually had a running joke back in high school that I was her “seeing-eye friend” because she had a bad habit of stepping off curbs and falling down, or walking straight into a wall
while looking down at her phone.
This was, of course, quite different.
But thankfully, Hollie didn’t seem to notice the fact that the tension between her father and myself was crackling and sparkling like static. She babbled on and on about this guy whom she’d met, and how excited she was to date him over the summer.
“Paris, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Hollie said. Her cheeks flushed bright red as she turned to me. “I’ve been talking so much, I’m so rude,” she added. “How’s your new job going?”
“I ... uh, I came home sick today,” I said, looking down at my lap. “My stomach was killing me.”
Hollie’s eyes flitted to my nearly-empty plate. She’d made chicken pot pie for dinner, and it had been so good that I’d helped myself to a second serving.
“You must be feeling better now though, right? You ate a ton,” she said.
“Um, yeah, I think it was just cramps,” I lied.
To be honest, I hadn’t actually been fibbing to Angel, back at the club. The thought of going out on stage and pretending to be sexy for a bunch of strange, gross, leering men after having such a hot experience with Harrison had made bile come rushing up my throat. After having experienced real intimacy, I had no idea why men would go to clubs like The Pink Diamond for something so fake and unnatural. Madison Maxx writhing around, naked, and pretending to masturbate on stage was the farthest thing possible from sexy. No. Sexy was Harrison tangling his hands in my hair, kissing me wet and deep. Sexy was Harrison groaning when I took his perfect erection in my mouth and began to suck.
Sexy was Harrison taking me, fucking me, making me his and his only.
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Hollie said. She started babbling on about something else, and I turned my attention back to her father.
I couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed that Harrison was acting like nothing had happened. He’d come home far later than I had – what had he been doing? I hated the jealous thoughts that now occupied my head.
