by Leigh, Mara
It was he who’d lied, after all.
Leaving the two brothers, I haggled with the shop owner about the price of the old sofa and got more assurances that it was bug- and rodent-free. My apartment-decorating shopping spree would eat up all of my tips from the past week, but it was worth it, and soon I’d be earning dancer-level tips. According to Melodie, I could make enough on one Friday night to cover everything I’d bought here today.
With a smile, I realized I was putting down more roots in Shady Oaks than at any place I’d ever lived.
“Ready?” Nick asked when I returned.
“All set.”
“Maybe you’d like to sit on your throne as we carry it?” Nick gave an exaggerated gesture toward the solid wood-and-leather sofa, already heavy on its own.
“Dude!” Dillon said.
I laughed. “Don’t worry, Dillon. If I get tired, I’ll just hop on Nick’s back.”
One side of his mouth crooked up, Nick shook his head. He was onto me and willing to play along with the game—so far, anyway. If I really wanted to make him squirm, I’d have to up the stakes.
I held the glass door open as the men carried the sofa through, then we started down the crowded sidewalk.
I fell into step beside Dillon, who was walking backward at the head of the sofa. “So, what do you do?”
“This and that.”
“Interesting.” I guided him around a post. “I’ve always wanted to do ‘that.’ Tell me, do you need a college degree to get started?” I touched his arm to make sure he avoided a woman passing by with a stroller.
He chuckled. “To get started in the ‘this and that’ business, what you really need is a graduate degree in ‘the other thing.’”
“This, that, and the other thing. Ah. Very helpful. Thanks.” It was clear Nick’s brother didn’t want to tell me what he did for a living, but he did have a sharp wit.
Dad had warned me that many of the residents of Shady Oaks were criminals. Did that extend to Nick’s brothers? Because of Dad, I’d been around criminals all my life. Nick’s brother didn’t seem the type.
We rounded a corner that led to a steep hill, and Nick bounced the sofa to adjust his hold. “Dillon fixes things. Everything. Cars, clocks, computers.”
“Everything that starts with a C?” I laughed.
“Yup,” Dillon said. “Except cabbages. That’s right at the edge of my skill set.”
“Well, luckily, I’m pretty handy with a cabbage, so if you ever need one fixed, I’d be happy to return the favor.”
“Favor?” Dillon asked.
“For carrying my sofa.”
“Oh, that’s no problem,” he said. “Happy to do the bidding of Nick’s Dungeon Mistress. I wouldn’t want him to get any extra lashes on my account. We Downeys have each other’s backs. Always.”
Nick and Dillon shared a look.
“All for one and one for all?” I asked.
“Got that right.”
“Car.” I touched Dillon’s shoulder as we reached the curb, then checked both directions. “All clear.”
“You’re older than Nick, right?” I asked Dillon, wanting to fill the silence.
“Yup. Three years.”
“The next oldest?”
“That’d be Shane. Mac and I are next. We’re twins. And Keagan’s the old man.”
“Identical twins?”
“Ha!” Nick said. “Wait until you meet Mac, then ask that again.”
I looked over my shoulder toward Nick. “Who was with you by the pool?”
“You were watching.” He grinned, his whole face lighting up.
“I wasn’t watching, I just…”
His knowing expression let me know he wasn’t fooled. “That was Mac and Shane.”
I nodded. So at this point, I’d at least seen all the Downey brothers except Keagan. The one Angel suggested was “the best,” while warning me to stay away from Nick.
“Speaking of Shane,” Dillon said. “You’re in, right?”
“Nope,” Nick answered.
“He’s not going to take no for an answer.” Dillon checked over his shoulder to make sure his path was clear.
“Who gives a shit.”
“What this about?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Nick said. “Some harebrained scheme my brother Shane cooked up.”
His evasion seemed suspicious, especially combined with Dillon not telling me what he did for a living. I worried my lower lip. Was my spidey-sense wrong? Were Nick’s brothers into illegal shit? Nick, too?
I shook my head. What did it matter? It wasn’t like I was going to get involved with Nick beyond the sex. It’s not like I planned to start a relationship. That ship had already sailed its short single voyage and wasn’t going to leave shore again.
Not with Nick. Nothing worse than a liar.
As we started up the final steep hill toward Shady Oaks, I thought through my plans. I wasn’t ever shy about getting what I wanted in bed, but I’d never been fully in charge of sex before. And I needed to cook up something good to pay him back.
Hmmm… Maybe we should stay tonight after the club closed. Maybe I’d make him strip for me? Was that enough? Not really.
Surely I could find some props in the dancers’ dressing room to inspire a plan. Whatever happened, tonight was going to be fun.
Eighteen
Jade
“You sure you don’t want a lift home?” Melodie stood by the dressing room entrance, jingling car keys that hung from a toy troll that sported a shock of neon-blue hair.
“No, I’m good.” I smiled at the woman who’d quickly become a friend. “I’m going to try on a few outfits. Make sure I have everything set for my big debut Sunday night.” Stan had finally given me my first set on stage.
“We can do that tomorrow, after we run through your routines one last time.” Melodie yawned, covering her mouth with her delicately long fingers. “I am so beat.”
I picked up a red sequined G-string, one of several things Melodie and I had scrounged from items left by previous dancers. “I want to take some options home to wash.”
“Promise you aren’t taking the bus.”
I stared at the G-string like I wasn’t sure how it worked. “Nick said I could grab a ride with him.”
Melodie leaned into the room, her eyes wide. “I thought you two weren’t talking.”
“He apologized.”
“Again?” Melodie grinned. “Even after what you did to his chocolates?”
“I feel kind of bad about that.” I set the G-string on the back of a cheap folding chair. “But don’t tell Nick.”
“Your secret’s safe, sister.” Melodie winked. “But damn. What a waste of a good box of See’s.”
“Tell me about it.” I had actually eaten a few before destroying the rest. I mean, a girl needed chocolate. See’s headquarters was in South San Francisco, and on good days you could smell chocolate in the air in the Shady Oaks courtyard.
Holding onto the doorframe with both hands, Melodie stretched her shoulders and chest. “You still not going to tell me what he did to get you so mad?”
I shook my head. As much as I hated a liar, the more I thought about Nick’s deception, the more petty I felt, and the more my anger seemed overblown. Tired and suspicious, I’d been rude the day we’d met, and he was right—he had made a few attempts to set me straight that I’d brushed off.
I’d been so sure he was screwing with me, and while I was right, I was wrong about how.
“Okay.” Melodie came out of her stretch. “Guess I’m off then. See you tomorrow.”
“Yup. Thanks again for all your help.”
“No sweat!” She waved and her keys jingled, like the sound was making her troll dance.
“Night, Nick,” Melodie said from the hall.
He walked past the dressing room door and followed her to the alley exit. Nick would make sure Melodie got safely to her car, which might just give me enough time to surprise him.
The black vinyl shorts were super low-cut and struck a hard line across my hips and belly. Under my baggy sweatshirt, I was already wearing a matching faux-leather bra, its cups covered in spiky studs.
I tossed off the sweatshirt and plopped down onto the folding chair, wincing as the cold metal hit my nearly bare ass. Then I tugged on a pair of thigh-high black boots with platforms and stiletto heels.
“Drive safe!” Nick yelled to Melodie from the back door.
I reached into my bag, grabbed the riding crop and handcuffs I’d found buried in a box stashed above the metal lockers, then opened the door and stepped into the hall.
Nick was still watching Melodie’s car leave the alley. Perfect timing.
I struck a pose, legs wide, chest out, as Nick double-checked the back door’s lock.
He turned.
His breath hitched as his eyes consumed me.
A thrum of desire pounded in my bloodstream at the pure power and pleasure in knowing I had such an obvious effect on this man. This man, who could crush me with one hand—a man who was double my weight and a wall of muscle—was paralyzed in the hallway, struck dumb and frozen by the sight of me.
I loved it.
Across the ten feet between us, I felt his gaze on my skin, heard his quickening heartbeat, sensed his overwhelming arousal, like it could communicate with my womb.
Every part of me wanted him. Wanted him so badly I wasn’t sure I had the patience to see through this game I had planned.
He whistled out a jagged breath. “Shit, Jade.”
“I don’t look stupid in this get up?” I tugged on the back of the super-short shorts.
“Stupid’s not the first word that comes to mind,” he growled. He looked at me like prey, but tonight I was the predator.
I dangled the handcuffs from my index finger and then crooked it, instructing him to follow.
“What are you planning to do with those?” he asked.
“Silence.” I slapped the wall with the crop, and his eyes widened. “You will speak only when spoken to.”
“Yes ma’am. Oops. Did I already break the rules?”
He mimicked buttoning his lips, and I whacked the wall again, relishing the satisfying sound of the leather crop striking the painted wall. “Test me again and you’ll be sorry.”
Lifting his palms in surrender and clearly fighting a grin, he stepped forward. Light cast from a caged bulb struck the bulge in his jeans and stroked the planes of his chest. It lit him so perfectly I could see the outline of the six-pack under his shirt.
It was my turn to gasp.
My insides pulsed, my whole body pulsed. I needed him so badly it hurt, so badly I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t remember why I’d been mad.
Why, after learning what it was like to feel the power of this man moving inside me, I had allowed eleven nights to go by before making it happen again.
So much wasted time. Such a dummy.
But I wasn’t so much of a dummy that I’d let this little sex-slave game end before it got started. I’d all but dropped my revenge motive, but he didn’t need to know that, and making him do what I wanted was bound to be fun.
“Come!” I turned. Letting my ass stick out more than was necessary, I sashayed along the hall and into the main room of the club.
Ever since he’d made his proposition this afternoon, I’d been imagining what I could do to Nick—make Nick do to me—but that didn’t mean I had the faintest idea of what to do in this moment, or how this would really play out.
I decided to start with a striptease. Great way to get his clothes off.
I grabbed the legs of one of the chairs upturned on a table for the night. His hand landed on top of mine, his body hot and huge behind me.
“Let me.” His deep voice rumbled through my body like an earthquake.
I stepped to the side and gestured with a slight bow as he pulled the chair from the table and set it down.
When I didn’t sit immediately, he looked at me expectantly. But I’d already changed my plans.
“Sit.” I used the riding crop to guide his shoulder, and Nick lowered himself onto the chair, spreading his legs wide and resting his hands on his thighs.
“Hands behind your back,” I commanded as I dragged the crop down his expanding chest.
He lowered his arms to his sides.
“Hold the chair. Don’t let go.”
Obediently, he gripped the back of his seat.
“Legs together.”
He dragged his boots along the floor, bringing his thighs together, the muscles bulging so much I wondered if the denim would give.
I wanted, more than air, to feel those hard muscles between my legs, to even ride one of his thighs as he bucked it against me. The way I felt now, I might come the instant his thigh muscles hit my mound.
I straddled both legs, and even with the help of my six-inch heels, my legs barely reached across his.
His hands landed on my hips, warm and strong against my skin, and his fingers pressed lightly against the thin fabric of my shorts as his thumbs grazed the front.
With every ounce of willpower I could muster, I said, “Hands down. On the chair. Do I need to use these?” I dangled the handcuffs.
With a grin, he dropped his hands back, and I set the cuffs and crop on the table. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I pressed my chest forward, rubbing the spiky studs up and down his hard chest, hoping they’d hurt him—just a little. Just enough to make sure he’d remember who was in charge.
I wasn’t sure whether or not the spikes were making any impact on his chest, but the backs of them tormented my hardened nipples, and his legs were like long, hard rocks between my inner thighs. I moaned. So did he.
Shifting my position to rest my forehead on his shoulder, I tipped my pelvis to brush my crotch against his bulge. Even with that light pressure, I nearly came. But it was too soon for that. Way too soon.
A climax now would be violent but short. A release, sure, but nothing compared to what I knew would come if I let it build.
My heel slipped on the concrete floor, and my body slid forward, slamming into his. He groaned as our crotches crashed, and the pleasure pushed the air from my lungs. I lifted my head and saw into his eyes.
Shit, too real. I couldn’t get caught in that emotional trap again.
I scrambled off his lap, not even caring how awkwardly I moved, and grabbed the riding crop.
“On stage,” I said. “Time for the show.”
“The show?” Adjusting himself, he stood. His erection pressed against his jeans was about the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
“Strip for me.” I pointed the crop toward the stage. “Dance. I want to be entertained.”
He looked at me with heat in his eyes, then sauntered toward the stage while I sat, spreading my legs like he’d done, planting my stiletto-clad feet on the floor.
“What?” I asked. “No lights? No music?”
Grinning, he headed to the control booth and soon one of Diamond’s signature songs pounded through the club. He turned down the volume as the lights blared to illuminate the empty stage. Slowly, he walked back to the stage.
I could tell he was stalling but did nothing to change that. The mere sight of his strong body, the anticipation of seeing him naked, made me so wet and ready it was hard not to squirm.
He jumped onto the stage, landing softly for such a big guy, then walked to the center and turned to face me, shielding his eyes from the lights. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come on. You’ve seen thousands of sets.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest, and I loved how they barely reached across.
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have the same equipment as the dancers who work here.”
No, he did not. Nick was the most masculine man I had ever known, ever seen. About as far away from the cl
ub’s dancers as possible.
I flicked my hand. “Do male stripper stuff.”
“And what’s that?”
“You know.”
“How the fuck would I know what a male stripper does?”
“Like Magic Mike.”
“Magic who?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know that movie.”
He shook his head.
“Take off your clothes. Show me your body.” Although we’d had sex, I’d yet to really take in Nick’s fully nude body, and the anticipation was killing me. I had to keep my legs pressed down to keep from running on stage and ripping his clothes off myself. “Dance. You must have some moves.”
He leaned forward through the light. “Oh, baby. You better believe I’ve got moves. Come on up here and I’ll show you a few.”
My pussy tightened, trying to talk me into doing as he suggested, but this deal was supposed to be about him doing things for me. I couldn’t just cave and do what he wanted—even if it was what I wanted, too.
“Use your imagination,” I said. “Better yet, use the pole.”
He grabbed onto the pole and tugged on it a little. “I don’t want to pull down the ceiling.”
“Just strip, then.” The rest of me was starting to get as impatient as my girl parts.
With a slight shrug, he stepped in front of the pole. Grabbing it, he turned his back to me and bent over. His ass was a work of art in those jeans and he bounced it a few times, but it came off more silly than sexy.
“Take it off!” I shouted, then whistled, doing my best catcall.
His hands disappeared in front of his huge body, and his large back muscles strained against his shirt as he fumbled with something. I hoped he was freeing his dick.
Then, with a long sweep of one arm, he pulled his leather belt out of its loops and tossed it to the side.
I clapped and whistled, and he shifted his hips around, pressing back his ass. Then he turned to face me, his jeans button open, the fly slightly down and his hands rubbing his powerful thighs.
Nick would never be a dancer—not in a million years—but his stiff movements didn’t diminish his sexual energy, his raging manliness. In fact, his slight awkwardness made him even sexier to me.
