by Skye Warren
I flinch, because that’s the opposite of what I am. I’m the bad girl, the slutty girl. The sexpot with only one purpose in life. And without that purpose, I’m lost.
“You sent me away so I wouldn’t start another fucking fight, to kill someone else when I was too out of control to stop myself.” Smack. “It wouldn’t matter that they deserved it too. I would have been locked up, for good. Life over before I even turned eighteen.” Smack. “Who else would have had the strength to protect me?”
He waits, and I understand he wants an answer. A real answer, spoken aloud. So I give him one, the only answer I know to be true. “I loved you.”
His voice sounds thicker. “You never stopped loving me, you beautiful little fuck. You let me hurt you and hurt you because you’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”
I whimper. “Please.”
I just want him to fuck me. I want to forget this night ever happened, but I know I never will.
“And then with Mrs. Owens,” he continues. “Taking your clothes off for strangers to keep a roof over her head. You’re the most generous woman I’ve ever met.”
“Stop,” I cry, voice cracking. Generous. It’s what West called me too, but it’s a lie. “I didn’t help her just for her. I needed to be…”
“Needed,” he says, dark and sure. “You need to be needed. Welcome to the goddamn club. That doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you human. And an amazing woman.” He pauses, stroking my cheek. “And one day you’ll make an amazing mother.”
I twist, fighting him now.
He grasps my hands and pins them to the bed. His body covers mine, a hard weight that steals my breath. “You want to be needed, beautiful? You got it, because I need you. I need all your goodness under me, at my mercy. I need to make you cry and then comfort you and then do it all over again.”
I’m crying now. The sheets are damp beneath my cheeks. “You won’t. You’ll get tired of me.”
“I waited for you. I didn’t fuck anyone else. I could watch them with West, I could jack myself off, but I couldn’t touch them. Do you think that was easy?”
“No,” I whimper, because he’s hurting me. With his hands and his cock and his words.
He’s hurting me.
“Well, it was,” he says, almost a growl. “It was easy as hell not to touch another girl. I tried, goddamn you. I wanted to be over you, but I couldn’t. Even when I hated you, when I fucking fooled myself, I didn’t want anyone but you.”
“Me too,” I whisper into the bed. I don’t know if he can hear me. I didn’t know if he could hear me across the miles, across the years. Now our bodies are connected in the most intimate way, our lives intertwined.
“I know.” His voice is soft now. “And I’ll never get tired of you. I never could get tired of you.”
“Blue,” I say. Just that. Blue.
He turns me over so I’m face-up on the bed. At the touch of his hand my legs fall open. He stops and stares between my legs, fingers playing in my folds. “No, I could never get tired of this. I could never stop wanting you. Never stop needing you.”
“Come inside me,” I beg. I need that closeness after what he told me. He’s baring his soul, but he’s holding back too. He’s keeping himself apart, almost aloof as his thumb flicks my clit.
“You’re worried you might do something wrong, but God, beautiful. I’m the one doing wrong every time I fuck you. I’m the one hurting you, making you cry. I’m the one who needs to do that. What if you get tired of that? Jesus, you should be tired of that.”
I don’t have the words to explain how it feels, how the lash of his palm is more soothing than a hug, how the tears he makes me cry are all the ones I never could as the tossed around nobody, a throwaway girl. I don’t have the words to explain that when he holds me down, it feels like he’ll hold me forever. “West could never be what I need,” I say. “He could never hurt me. He doesn’t think I can take it.”
“He thinks I’m too rough with you.”
My eyes widen in the dark. “He told you that?”
“He didn’t have to. We know each other well, even if we don’t always agree. He probably asked you to go with him. Didn’t he?”
Not with words. But that kiss… “I never would have.”
Blue leans down and lines his cock against my cunt. “I wouldn’t have let you go.”
A push of hips and then he’s invading me, inside me, so deep I gasp and squirm away. Large hands hold me down, keeping me in place as he forces the rest of him in.
“Too much,” I gasp. Too fast.
“You can take it,” Blue says darkly, his voice rough with pleasure. “He doesn’t have any fucking clue how much you can take. Sometimes I think you don’t either.”
He pulls out and thrusts back inside, making me whimper. My sounds just spur him on. He fucks me harder and faster until the world is a shadowy blur. I let it overtake me, the passion and the pain. He is the water, and I’m the ocean floor, held down by his weight, made soft with his motion, finding peace in the riotous waves above me.
Chapter Thirteen
I fall into a dreamless sleep after Blue collapses on top of me. I know I have things to worry about, things that might break us, things that break me, but I let them drift away under his comforting weight. Comforting, because I know I can’t get away. Because I know he won’t let me go.
When I wake up, Blue is already awake—and watching me.
“Morning,” I say sleepily.
His lips quirk up. “It’s afternoon.”
I blink. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Seemed like I might be needed at home.”
I sit up in dismay. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to stay here because of…whatever. Because of my insecurity. You should be able to do what you want to and—”
“This is what I want, beautiful. You are what I want.”
I’m not wholly satisfied, but I sigh in defeat anyway. The truth is I’m beyond grateful to find him here, solid and loving beside me. And naked. I swing my leg over and straddle him.
He regards me from beneath dark lashes, his expression implacable. “What are you doing?”
A shrug. “You always call me beautiful.”
“Because you are.”
I trace a finger down the center of his chest, the valley that leads to his abs—and lower. “You’re beautiful too, you know that?”
He looks amused. “That so?”
My hands are trembling as they slide over his hips, the same hips that are spreading my knees wide. That’s what he does to me—he opens me up, when I didn’t think I could open up to anyone. When I didn’t think I deserved it or that I was even capable of it. He forced his way in, his love like a goddamn battering ram.
“Beautiful,” I say, aiming for confident. He doesn’t comment on the fact that my voice is barely a breath. Maybe because I lean down and kiss him, right on a dark, flat nipple. He sucks in a breath, and I work my way over the ridges of his abs. “Beautiful,” I whisper without a sound.
His cock is straining for attention, already hard and thick and standing straight up. It’s demanding my attention, but I ignore the command, turning instead to his muscled thighs, working my way inward. He shifts slightly, spreading his legs so I can reach his balls. I lick and tease him until he’s groaning with frustration. “Suck me,” he says, his voice hard. His fist is hard too, where he clasps my shoulder.
I pull away. “Blue.”
His eyes are dark. They promise retribution.
It makes me smile, because I want him to pay me back. I want him to turn the tables. Not yet, not yet. “You’re beautiful, Blue,” I tell him, somber now. “And I love you.”
His eyes narrow. “And?”
“And…I don’t want to have your baby.”
Complete stillness. Not a sound. Oh shit.
“Not yet,” I add quickly. “I do want to start a family with you. Later. I mean, we are a family, you and me, and—”
He stops me with two fingers to my lips. I fall silent.
“You think I’m going to get mad at you,” he says slowly, and it’s not a question. He’s processing, and I’m tense. Because yes, I do think he’s going to get mad. How could he not, when he’s asking me to start a family with him and I’m saying no?
I’m halfway mad at myself for turning that down, but not enough to stop. It’s not enough that Blue thinks I’m generous, that he thinks I’ll make a great mother. I need to find myself, who I am, before I can lose myself to motherhood. I owe that to Blue and to our future child—and to myself.
“And you think,” he continues softly, “that if you say no to something, I’m going to leave?”
“You wouldn’t be the one leaving.”
“No,” he says, comprehending. “You would. And you’ve been kicked out about enough times to get damn tired of it.”
“I’m terrified of it,” I whisper. “It’s not just another house to me. You’re not just another guy.”
“I’m glad to hear that much, because you’re damn sure not just another girl. You’re it. You’ve been it since the goddamn beginning, and I’ll never stop kicking my own ass for walking away.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I protest.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree. Maybe it got out of hand at the end, but I should have known someone was hurting you. I should have protected you, and there’s not a damn thing you can tell me that will make it untrue.”
I sigh, leaning into him, hands on his chest. Even with my fingers spread wide, they don’t reach all the way to the outside. He’s broad, an island of man. I’m stranded on him, and I never want to leave. “Then you aren’t mad?”
“No, beautiful. I’m mad at myself. Mad at every asshole who ever used and hurt you. Mad that I didn’t make it clear that you could stay on those birth control pills just as long as you want. Forever if you want. Thinking about your belly growing round with my seed makes me hot.”
“I noticed,” I say drily.
“And it will keep on making me hot as long as we talk about it. Or if it’s stressing you out too much, we won’t talk about it. Okay?” He taps my clit, making me jolt. “No more fucking this sweet pussy bareback, talking about my come inside you.”
My face heats. I was a stripper, for God’s sake, but he still has the power to make me blush. “We could maybe do that a little.”
“Absolutely not,” he says, mock sternly. “No more bending you over, forcing my fat cock inside you until you milk me dry, your little cunt clamping down on me, sucking my come deep.”
His words are so coarse. They make me run hot and then cold, and then hot all over again. “Blue,” I moan.
He flips me over, spreading me wide. “And I will definitely not ever,” he says, sliding inside me to the hilt, “never ever, stay home from work just to fuck you all day.”
I groan. “You don’t play fair.”
“That’s right.” He pulls out, and I let loose a sound of frustration. It just makes him laugh, and he moves down my body, placing a kiss on my nipple, on my stomach. He drops kisses down my thighs in a clear parallel to what I did to him, moving inward. The next place for him to go is between my legs.
A shiver racks my body. I’m too sensitive. Too open. “No,” I say, my voice breaking.
His eyes meet mine across my body. “Beautiful,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to my sex. He tells me everything would be okay with every swipe of his tongue. He promises me forever with every graze of his teeth. And for once, I believe him.
For once, I believe I’m enough.
Chapter Fourteen
I pull up at the Grand in late afternoon, cobblestone basking in deep yellow light.
Sometimes I miss working here. Is that crazy?
It had seemed crazy at the time. Or maybe I’d only hoped it was.
After last night, I’m not so sure.
Maybe one day you’ll come back. That’s what Candy told me.
Even that doesn’t seem so crazy anymore. I feel more solid than ever about my relationship—and more uncertain about my future. I didn’t want to rely on Blue forever, even though he’d let me. And anyway, it’s too quiet in our gorgeous, expensive condo, especially after the overflowing foster homes and then working at the Grand. I’d grown accustomed to people. Having West around reminded me of that.
Hell, I even liked people. Liked dancing with them, liked flirting with them. Except for the worst of the clients, the kind Blue and his security team would throw out of the club, I had liked stripping.
I don’t really want to start stripping again. It will only stress Blue out, and God, it would stress me out too. It was a desperate job, a desperate club. It seems even more desperate now, everything out of place, doors spread wide.
Something is wrong.
Those front doors open, a gaping hole into the club. I can see dust motes glittering in the air. And nothing else. No bouncers, no deliverymen carrying things in.
No reason the doors would be open that way.
My heart pounds.
Blue rounds the corner. His face is set in hard, stern lines, but he stops short when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”
I wave to my car uselessly. “I came to visit Candy.”
Something flickers in his eyes—worry? “Go home.”
Panic filters through my chest. Candy always liked playing with danger, drinking and shooting up. And most of all, toying with the club’s dangerous owner, Ivan. He has way too many ties to the criminal undercurrent in Tanglewood, and for all Candy’s polished perversity, I worry that he’d end up hurting her.
“What happened?”
Blue’s lips press together, and I think he might not tell me. Whatever’s happened at the club, I’ll find out eventually. I’m too deep in it, too invested not to know. I can’t wait to find out from someone else, and I sure as hell can’t go home now. “Tell me, please.”
“Someone got into the dressing room,” he says, finally.
Oh shit. The dressing room? The back room where the girls changed is the inner sanctum. No customers are allowed back there. Hell, even most of the bouncers aren’t allowed.
I swallow around a knot in my throat. “And did what?”
It’s the question I ask instead of the real one. Did he hurt anyone?
Blue understands, shaking his head. No. “He left a message. The cleaning staff almost wiped it away, but West—he was letting them in when he did his morning rounds. He noticed it and thought to send me a picture, just to check.”
A message for who? What did it say?
But I can no longer stand here and wait, tossing out questions. I need answers. And most of all, I need to be sure that Candy is okay. There was that flicker in Blue’s eyes…
Tears already stinging my eyes, I push past him. He lets me.
It seems like every one of Blue’s guys is in the club, studying schematics or pointing up at the ceiling. Oscar is there, and West. Some kind of security upgrade is happening, but I can’t think about that.
Candy is sitting at her padded bench in the dressing room. Her face is white as a sheet, and completely clear of makeup. She stares straight ahead at her mirror—which is scrawled across with a powder pink lipstick I recognize as hers.
John 10:16
Ivan stands behind her, looming, a dark thundercloud over a mysterious, smooth-surfaced sea. His eyes are bloodshot, his suit rumpled. I’ve only ever seen him crisp and in control. He seems wilder now, almost feral.
“Who the fuck is John?” he asks, and I know this isn’t the first time he’s said it.
He isn’t even asking anyone in particular. He’s asking Candy, or me, or Blue who’s followed me inside. He’s asking the very walls, as if pissed that the Grand itself didn’t defend us.
He turns on Blue. “This is your fucking fault.”
Blue’s eyes narrow. “Maybe if you would have taken my advice and installed cameras in the back rooms, like I told you
to.”
Ivan glares but doesn’t reply. He’d been too worried about what they might catch on tape, I suppose. And now we won’t know who broke in. The Grand is heavily guarded while it’s open, when it’s dark outside. There are only a few hours, just after dawn, when no one is here.
“Install them,” Ivan says, voice low and growling. “And I want this place guarded around the clock.”
I’m shaking, shivering. Afraid because Candy hasn’t said a word, hasn’t even blinked.
“Candy?” I ask softly.
No answer. She’s like a statue. A doll.
“Who the fuck is John?” Ivan says again, snarling.
Blue studies the pink scrawl. “Maybe the numbers are a time of day. We can check the tapes from the floor, find out who came in. Especially anyone who interacted with…”
He trails off, and all of our attention goes to Candy.
Maybe the numbers are a time of day. Or hell, maybe they’re the ramblings of a crazy person, meaningless to anyone outside its vortex. The bouncers have always been strict here, but assholes still get in.
After all, they have to get caught to get thrown out.
I’m thinking the note means something else, though. Mrs. Owens would read every evening, silently, before bed. There was only one book in her house. And when she couldn’t see anymore, I read to her aloud. “The bible,” I murmur.
“What?” Ivan snaps.
“Oh fuck,” Blue breathes, staring at the note with new eyes. “It could be a passage from the bible. John 10:16. We can look it up.”
Candy jolts, as if someone slapped her. She scrambles back, off the stool, away from the offending mirror. It’s littered with her makeup, her glitter. Her space, violated. Defiled.
“Don’t bother,” she whispers.
My heart is breaking to see her this way, my strong, irreverent friend turned into a trembling little girl. That’s how she looks right now. Little. The lace and glitter that had made her look pretend-innocent now just look real.
“Never mind,” Ivan says, so low and tender I don’t even recognize him. He takes her into his arms, almost cradling her. There are two strangers in front of me—one giving comfort, one receiving it. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll never see this again. We’ll burn it. And whoever left this, he’ll never touch you.”
