by lesley,allyn
“We have unfinished business Chels.”
She shakes her head from side to side. Now I’m distracted by swinging hair, wanting to bury my nose in it. “You said enough when you slept with my roommate, don’t you think?”
Ouch. “Not really.” I’m not taking all the blame for what’s happened between us. “You’ve not said nearly enough since leaving me with sticky notes and your virgin’s blood all over my sheet and dick.” I wave over the front of my pants to drive home my point about my distress.
Her eyes widen then she takes a wobbly step back before it seems she pulls herself together. “I told you.”
Pushing away from the door, I’m in her space before she knows it, trapping her between my body and the wall. “You didn’t.”
She shoves my chest. Her hands feel so fucking good. I groan and let her make of it what she wills. “I did so, you asshole. You were only interested in one thing.”
My teeth clench; the words force their way out. “You didn’t try hard enough.” Had she done that, I would have... hell, I’m not sure if I knew, if my actions would have been different. And that’s the honest truth.
She licks her lips as she stares at mine.
Warning bells are going off in my head. “Chels.” She’s so close. My gaze slides over her curves then up to her flaring nostrils and glassy eyes. I imagine my tongue running along the slender column of her neck and the silken skin near her collar bone. I can almost feel her breasts as they rise and fall with each breath she drags into her mouth.
Her eyes drift up to my face. Her brows are crinkled, but I don’t miss the glow on her cheeks. “What do you want, Dyllan?” Her voice is low and pleading.
I want you. I look at her like she’s crazy, but just in case she doesn’t know, I push my pelvis closer to her maddening body. “I want you,” I admit because I can’t help it. I want all of her.
She tries to hide her shock by turning her head to the side. “You’ve had me.”
Not as long as I’d like. I drop my hand from the wall. I’m tired of the space between us, so I close the gap. In her heels, her soft breasts hit my chest with no problem.
“Aren’t you the type to hit it and quit it?” Her eyes bore into my soul, searching for something I’m not sure I have to give to her.
“Yeah.” When she drops her head at my admission, I use my finger to guide her chin so she’s looking at me. “But...” I really don’t know what else to say, because normally I’d have moved on already. Hell, it’s been more than a year and a half since we’ve been together. But, she makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. And I only want them with and from her. Damn her ass for getting me to open up like this.
“This shit is your fault.” I don’t let her widened eyes stop me. Anger and raging hormones aren’t a good mix, and I can’t decide if I want to tell her to go to hell, or beg her to stay with me. I do know I can’t share what’s really going on in my head, or she’ll have the upper hand and ruin me like Jess, fracturing my heart even more than the tattoo that’s covering it now.
“Dyllan.” She kind of singsongs my name before leaning her head on the wall and looking up at the ceiling.
And, that’s the final straw. My hand grips her chin, not hard, but I need to look at her. I need to get a good read on her. But now, I don’t know what to do with the tears that glisten her cheeks. “I’m so out of my fucking element with you.”
Her mouth opens, and I do the one thing I’ve dreamt about since the first time in my condo. My lips find hers. I’m not hurrying. I can’t. I’ve waited too long to do this, and if this is all she’s giving me, I have to take my time. My tongue glides inside; my cock hardens even more with the feel of her warm tongue and body pressed to mine. I forgot how passionate she is. One of her small hands grabs the back of my head, pulling me down, and the other grips my ass.
“Chels...” The yearning, always that damn yearning when I’m near her, comes back full force. I lift her up, using the wall to keep her in place. I circle my hips into her warm center, the one place I want to be so badly. It feels like home and makes me feel like I belong.
“Dyllan.”
I move my lips down her throat and over the tops of her breasts. I try to drag the dress down, but this shit is tight as fuck. My head is bent, concentrating on finding a way for the dress to push down. She pulls me up by my face, plunging her tongue back inside my mouth.
Fuck. I worm my hands behind her back, searching, hoping, and praying I’ll feel the coolness of a zipper or maybe some buttons. Anything to get this dress off her and onto the floor. I come up empty. Pulling my mouth from hers, her lips attack my neck, sucking hard on a spot.
“Take this off.” My words are demanding, coming out in labored breaths, because her wicked mouth’s nibbling on my earlobe and it’s hot as hell.
“What?”
“Off.” I run my hand over her sexy dress that’s in my way. “This. Now.”
I should have kept my mouth shut and hiked her dress up. She’s goes still as a statue.
“No.” She pulls back from me.
What?
Chelsea mutters something under her breath.
What’s going on here? The door’s closed, there’s a couch right here, and there are condoms in my wallet. I don’t see the hold up.
“I can’t.” She doesn’t sound sure, as if what she’s said may not be her final answer.
Dumbly, I repeat her words and add a few of my own. “You can’t, or won’t, Chelsea?” There’s an edge to my tone as I pull away, releasing my hold on her thighs and lowering her back to a standing position.
She swallows, choosing to look away from me. “I don’t want to.”
My feet backtrack me to safety, away from her mouthwatering body as her rejection flitters in. “You don’t want to?” I don’t want it to sound like a question, but...
This is the first time a woman has ever told me no.
Chelsea faces me. Maybe she heard the desperation in my voice. Maybe it’s the crack in my voice that makes her look my way.
“I can’t, Dyllan.” She raises her hand toward me, but thinks better of it and drops it back to her side. She rearranges her dress, wiggling the material over her lush hips and down her legs.
I force myself to step back some more, even as my body protests, wanting to go nearer to her and stop her from covering up the place I’d like to taste. I bite my lip to not say anything rash. But, I’m pissed. Again, with this bullshit. It’s the same thing she basically told me, more than a year ago, with those damn stickies. Only this time, she’s saying it to my face. I shake my head, hoping that’ll knock some sense into me, because I’ve obviously slipped and bumped my head over a piece of ass.
“Dyllan, you got what you wanted already. You don’t want—”
“You don’t know shit!” Calm down, Dyllan, I tell myself, watching as she wraps an arm around herself as I blast at her. “You don’t know what I want from what I do, because you don’t fucking know me.” I stab a finger at my chest just to keep my hand busy and off her body. Fuck her. I don’t need this drama. Pussy I can get anywhere, and with less headache, too.
“I know you.” She stares at me, trying to pull me in again, trying to get me to bare my soul, but I fight that shit like I’m battling the nation’s best boxer.
“No, you don’t.” She couldn’t possibly know me. “But, I’m about to let you know me.” I walk over to her, lowering to her height so our eyes connect. I look at her long. I make sure she sees me, sees the real me and knows what I’m about to say is the real deal. “You’re doing something you’ll regret.” My hand traces the sweetheart neckline of her dress, cupping one of her heavy breasts, teasing her nipple. Her loud moan washes over my face then I back off, wiping my hands of the Chelsea situation.
She looks at me.
I look at her.
There’s nothing left to say or do. She’s not budging, and I don’t force anyone to want me. I’m not sure how long we stay like tha
t. Eventually, she chucks her body off the wall. Chelsea doesn’t touch or make eye contact with me as she walks to the door. My back is stiff, waiting for her next play.
If she wants me, she has to come back to me. She has to make the first move.
After a while, I hear the turning of the lock and the twisting of the door handle. Both are overly loud in the silent room.
I’m not tripping. Any second now, she’ll come back.
The door closes with a soft click.
Fuck!
Chapter Eleven
The music is thumping. Beautiful bodies in all shades are in the skimpiest of outfits. As they walk by, light flitters through their sky high, lucite platforms. They’re all sirens. And every last one of them have mastered the fine art of seduction. Like the rest of the men gathered here, I don’t mind paying the exorbitant cover charge at the door or the money I reward them with after an arousing show.
In this establishment, the strippers aren’t the in-your-face kind of slutty at other places, but they all have something extra in gait that makes patrons know that for the right price, anything is possible. The things they can do sometimes make a man yearn for bachelorhood once again, if he’s married. These beauties are parading around with their toned bodies, and their neatly trimmed or waxed pussies that are hardly covered by their outfits. Through the flimsy materials, clit piercings or the latest decorative craze, vajazzling, isn’t hidden. Every person inside Bottoms Up Gentleman’s Club wishes for a chance to be one of those inanimate objects adorning the stripper’s most intimate body part.
Just as one particular female walks by, my brain screams: I love this place! JC’s over in the corner, trying to back up from a redhead giving him a lap dance. Chuck is sitting back, laughing, and drinking. EC has his face smushed in the hair of a blonde gyrating on him while holding on to her hips. I don’t need to see it, but I know there’s a bright smile that’s all white teeth. The rest of the groomsmen are scattered around in the private VIP area I had set up here at the club. This place caters to my interests: big asses on curvaceous women. I’d told the club’s owner to keep all her brunette dancers away from tonight’s festivities.
I want zero reminders of her... of Chelsea who have the uncanny ability to sneak her way into my thoughts like now when I’m supposed to be living my life and proving how she’ll regret walking away from me.
“Dude,” EC shouts at me, face slightly lifted up from those massive tits.
What the fuck? I angle my head, curious how the stripper is on her head in front of EC, yet is still pumping her hips in his face. I laugh when EC’s eyes bug out of his head.
He nudges me. “You see this shit, bro? You’ve been holding out on me.”
I have. EC loves pussy. Like me. He would’ve gone through all of the club’s girls, which would have only been a pain in my ass when he fucked ‘em and left ‘em. A few nights a month, I get some drinks, have a lap dance or two, and unwind here. EC and his indiscriminate cock would’ve messed that up for me had I told him about this place sooner. Now that he knows the location, I’ll have to kiss my hideout good-bye.
“What’s up?” I chin jerk to Chuck as he moves to sit beside me.
“This place is something else, son.” There’s a twinkle in his eye as he talks, one that I’m sure attracted Ma back in the day.
“Glad you like it.”
Chuck leans in close to me like he’s about share a secret. It’s one of those moves that produces the same reaction in females and males... both young and old. When Chuck does it, it makes others feel like their being allowed into a secret circle where they want to be part of. I’m not sure when he got the knack for it but it’s one that always makes me smile even when I can guess he’s about to tell me something I won’t like too much.
“JC and I are heading out.”
“So soon? We just got here.”
We’ve been here for two hours, but the main attraction hasn’t started yet.
“Your mother will kill me if I stay any longer.” His eyes are glassy, and his cheeks are red, maybe in embarrassment the more he looks at pretty, young things strutting around in barely there thongs and nipple tassels.
Just then, a loud, “Hell yeah,” grabs my attention, where I see JC’s groomsmen are egging him on to touch a busty woman’s body. My brother’s face is beat-red.
“Okay, I guess Mister I’m Getting Married Tomorrow can leave. The car is already outside to take you home.”
He stands then claps me on the shoulder. “You did good.”
“Sure. Sure.” I get up and rescue my brother, who smiles gratefully.
Emma was clear on tonight’s rules. “He can look, but no touching. If he does, I’m personally fucking you up, Dyllan Sterling.” This was all said with a hard grip on my wrist before she’d reached up to kiss my cheek.
The three of us walk out of the heated club with its gorgeous bodies, welcoming the chill hanging high in the December air. I help Chuck inside, but I wedge my body between the car and JC. With my head leaning to one side, my body buzzes with unasked questions and concern. It’s 2012, lots of people live together for a very long time without the noose of marriage. All I can think about is he’s twenty-six and still have loads of years to make that kind of commitment.
“I love her.”
I nod because I know this. Anyone who can’t see how his eyes light up when Emma’s name is called or when she’s nearby is a blind fool.
“She’s the one.”
I nod again. But, I just need him to know something. “If you want to back out...” I look around the parking lot, not sure why I can’t finish the sentence. I know he loves Emma. Hell, I love Emma for him. She’s his perfect match, much like Ma’s the only woman for Chuck. I swallow the rest of my foolish hesitation about tomorrow and ease away from the open door.
“I appreciate you looking out for your older brother, Dyllan.” He moves around me, getting in the car. “I had a good time. Get EC home in one piece. I can’t have one of my best men drunk at my wedding.” He laughs.
“Maybe I’m trying to eliminate my competition.” Shit. I can’t believe I just said that. Now it’s too late to undo. It’s crossed my mind a time or two since Emma announced her sister was her maid of honor. I’ve heard that sometimes the best man and the maid of honor hook up at these functions. And since Chelsea’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with me, so what’s to stop her from setting her sights on my brother, the co-best man?
JC looks at me strangely before coming back out. He pulls me close. “He’d never try anything with her.” I’m so relieved by this that I don’t worry about how he knows about Chelsea and me. He hugs me close, saying, “I love you, Dyllan.”
“Yeah. Me, too, knucklehead.”
We separate and he gets in the car again. I watch it drive off, standing out in the cold night air a little longer. I can’t believe I said that to JC, and that I was momentarily jealous of EC. Chelsea Robinson has been messing with my mojo and head for more than a year and a half. But, no more. That ends tonight. I head inside the club with more resolve to put into action what I told her inside the lounge. You’re doing something you’ll regret was what I’d told her and she would! I fling myself on the couch beside EC, grabbing a woman who’s randomly walking by. She sits for all of a minute or so, wiggling her ass over me but the feel of her is all wrong, my hands won’t contour over her body as they did as easily with Chelsea’s. Shit. I whisper my apology in her ear and slip a few bills into her hand. I’m thankful I don’t have to contemplate what was up with my reactions because someone from the club has a microphone in her hand.
“Gentlemen...” The voice is a practiced sultry one. The room falls silent as multicolored lights bounce off the ball above her head and onto everything in the room. “I’d like your attention on the stage as Sweet Cheeks comes to take you far, far away from any troubles you might have brought with you tonight.”
Footsteps are heard and then a well-known singer’s low, throa
ty voice filters through the speakers as the room darkens. As the sexualized lyrical words reach our ears, low lights flash on the stage. A single light illuminates the silver pole. All eyes are riveted on the lean body that’s casually perched on the pole. The person, whose face is still shrouded in mystery because of the lighting, swivels and sways her hips to the beat of the song. You have no choice but to follow her intricate, tempting gyrations as her legs wrap around the pole as though it’s her personal cock. Her body writhes in tune and naturally twirls to the song’s beats. I’m sure every man here wishes he were the pole she’s sliding up and down on. Every man except me.
“Fuck me,” EC groans out, lost or maybe escaping to the place the announcer promised once Sweet Cheeks hit the stage.
I’m not going to lie. Her body is tight and her moves are right. The planes of her belly makes you want to run your tongue over it, and her breasts are natural, which is unheard of. Her skills are... well, I’ve seen a lot of strippers, and she’s damn good. But, she doesn’t make my dick jump. I’m afraid to blink, because I can easily replace the stripper with a dark-haired beauty whose eyes pierce my soul, and I’ll be rock hard.
She dazzles the room with her sensual moves. Even in the dimly lit area, I know JC’s friends are smiling from ear to ear when she climbs the pole using her leg muscles. Loud groans and harsh expletives are heard when she slithers down then grinds her hips toward the stage floor. EC’s upper body is off the couch entrapped by her crafty, swinging hips. Slowly, the lighting changes, brightening the stage, but still casting a soft glow, and just as the last line is sung, her entire body is revealed.
“I-I...” EC never finishes what he was about to say.
The same faraway look I saw on JC’s face two years ago is plastered on his twin’s right now. EC’s a goner. It’s just a shame I’ll have to be the asshole to bring him back to reality. It’s not as if you can turn a ho into a housewife. No matter what they say, all strippers have given a customer more than a lap dance at least once in their illustrious career.
