by Gwyn McNamee
“Thank you, Savage, you are truly a prince among men.”
An eye roll seems appropriate at his comment. After hanging up with Dom, I immediately call down to the bar. Byron answers and I watch him on my screen. “Hey, boss, what’s up?” He looks into the camera as he talks to me, knowing I always keep an eye on things.
I explain the situation quickly. He grumbles, but disappears to break the bad news the bachelor party.
Slumping back in my chair, I drain the rest of my bourbon and pour myself another glass. I’m going to need this tonight to deal with all the complaints this will cause.
Fuck Dom!
The bump of the music from downstairs thuds through the floor. I drop my head back and close my eyes, willing the headache starting to form at the base of my neck to hold off until I can get home and slip into a hot shower.
I hear the door open and I’m hit with a familiar scent, one I will never forget.
Lilacs and spring rain.
Danika.
My eyes snap open and I find her standing near the door, looking as beautiful as the first day she stormed in here. Her flaxen hair is floating around her shoulders in waves and she sucks her red, plump bottom lip between her teeth as she eyes me warily.
I scan her, checking to make sure she’s physically okay. After not seeing or hearing from her for a week, even after sending the note, I’ve been secretly terrified something happened to her.
She’s sporting her usual four-inch stilettos and a skirt so short it leaves very little to the imagination. Then again, I don’t need my imagination after what happened on my patio. Her skirt is paired with a shimmering tank top that exposes the tops of her breasts in a way that is practically begging me to touch them.
Holy. Hell.
Finally, her lip slips from between her teeth and she takes a tentative step toward me. “Hey.”
“Hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” She cringes and I regret my choice of words; she probably thinks I’m pissed and don’t want to see her.
“Um, Gabe said it was okay if I came up.”
I move around my desk and approach her slowly. “Of course it’s okay. I’ve been worried about you.”
She hangs her head and looks to the floor, shifting uncomfortably in her heels. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just…needed some time.”
Needed some time? Time to figure out how to tell me to fuck off? Time to accept the situation and roll with it?
I stop in front of her and look up into her eyes. “But…you’re okay?”
She nods at me, her blue eyes flashing with emotion. What emotion? I don’t have a fucking clue, and isn’t that a fucking bitch?
“Then, what’s wrong?”
A single tear falls, sliding down her cheek and dropping from her chin. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, wiping at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing it in mine. “Don’t worry about me. Just tell me that you are okay.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Crying isn’t fine. A woman crying is absolutely never fine.
“Come, sit down.” She nods and I release her hand, letting her follow me over to the couch in the sitting area of my office. She drops down onto it and I settle in front of her. “You want a drink?”
Relief floods her face and she smiles. “Yeah, please.”
I grab the bottle of Blanton’s and my glass off my desk and stop at the bar to grab another glass for Danika. I give each of us a strong pour before setting the bottle down on the side table.
I have a feeling we’re both going to need this.
Handing her a glass, I lean in and catch her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She takes a sip of the bourbon and seems to relax instantly. After staring down at her glass for several agonizing moments, she finally clears her throat. “I needed to see you.”
That’s it.
My heart tightens in my chest, and my mind immediately jumps to the obvious conclusion—she’s here to tell me she’s done.
“Why did you need to see me?” I ask, setting my drink down on the end table so I can take her free hand in mine.
She looks up at me from under impossibly long black lashes and flashes a shy smile. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.”
Her repetition of the almost exact words I spoke to her on our first date makes my heart flutter with hope.
Is she trying to tell me something? Why can’t she just say it?
I take a fortifying breath and steady myself. “What have you been thinking about?” I rub my thumb in circles over the palm of her hand, and she squeezes my hand gently.
“How badly I want you to do what you did to me on your patio again. How badly I want you…us.”
I pause, waiting for his reaction, searching his face as he hears the words I have been dying to say to him for days but kept denying.
His eyes glimmer with concern and then heated lust, the blue darkening as they flick from my eyes down to my mouth. I lick my lips and he groans.
“Shit, Danika, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.” His words come out in a rush and I can see him visibly relax, his tense shoulders dropping slightly as he brings my hand up to his mouth and presses his lips to the center, letting them linger there, his warm breath spreading across my palm.
My clit throbs, remembering how that hand, those fingers, felt between my legs. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, trying to press my thighs together. He grins at me and takes my drink from my hand, placing it next to his on the end table.
Shit! I need that!
“What are you doing?”
“Get on the table,” he demands, pointing to the long conference table behind the couch. It takes me a second to process what he’s saying, but the heat in his eyes leaves no question about what he wants.
Moisture floods between my legs and I shakily stand and make my way around the couch to the table.
He follows closely behind me, stopping and watching intently as I turn and stare him down while I boost myself up onto the table and let my legs dangle over the edge.
A lecherous grin spreads across his face. He moves in, using his broad shoulders to press my thighs wide open.
Boy, am I fucking glad I wore this skirt, so much less fabric to deal with.
“Come here,” he commands, pulling on my arm so I bring my head down to him.
I’m so used to men just taking what they want; that one of a kind alpha-dog confidence is precisely what I have always craved. But, with Savage, his inability to be physically assertive makes him all that more demanding with his words, and having him tell me what he wants, what he needs, is getting me just as hot as any other man who has slammed me against a wall to fuck me.
He captures my mouth with his, a searing kiss that blazes and stamps me as his. I know this is just the start of us, but I already feel a tiny piece of my heart slipping away to him.
Reluctantly, he releases my mouth, lingering for several short, hard kisses before finally letting me go.
“Lie back.”
I comply with his order, reclining back and leaning on my elbows so I can watch him. After this week of agony, I don’t want to miss a moment of the looks he’s giving me. I need to see him, his face. I need this.
He leans forward, pushing my thighs open even wider as he slides his hands up and slips his fingers around the thin strip of my soaked thong. My heart races and my breath comes out in pants. His eyes find mine and he winks at me.
Fuck! Why is that so hot?
I squirm under his heated stare. His eyes locked on mine, he yanks on my panties, ripping them apart. I don’t give a single fuck about them. All I want is his mouth, on me, this very second.
His eyes sparkle with wicked intent as he leans even further in and his breath flutters across my wet flesh, causing my hips to instinctively arch into him. He groans, never taking his eyes off mine, and uses his thumbs to
spread me open.
“I’ve been desperate to taste you since the second you stormed into my office,” he murmurs, his calloused thumbs slowly slipping up and down, touching, but not where I want it, where I need it.
I don’t even care how it sounds.
I can’t wait.
I beg. “Please, Savage, just…”
He chuckles, and, without any preliminaries, slides his thick tongue through my folds, from my ass to my clit, flicking it with the tip before plunging it into my dripping cunt.
I bow off the table, dropping my head back, and rocking against him.
He devours me.
Digging my hands into his hair, I pull him closer while he swirls his tongue around my clit in a figure-eight motion that has me making sounds I don’t even recognize as human.
Sliding one, then two fingers into my pussy, I clench around him, desperate for something to grip. He moans against my flesh, sending my entire body into sensation overload. I chase my orgasm, the week of pent-up frustrations coiling deep in my core, about to reach a breaking point.
He curls his fingers into my G-spot as he sucks my clit between my lips in a pulsing rhythm that has me spiraling out of control. I finally break, splintering and crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure roll through me.
Fuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkk.
When my orgasm finally ebbs, I shift up onto my shaking arms and watch as he lifts his head from between my legs, a smug smile on his face.
“Come here.” He tugs on my hand until I slide to the edge of the table and lean down to him. He captures my mouth, and tasting my release on his tongue is sexy as fuck.
But, I want nothing more than to know what he tastes like in my mouth right now.
Just as I’m about to slide down off the table and return the favor, the phone on his desk lets out a shrill ring.
“Fuck.” He pulls away from me with an apologetic smile and turns to his desk, yanking up the phone. “What?” He barks at whatever poor sap is on the other end. I almost feel bad for him, until my clit throbs and I remember what was interrupted.
His eyes darken and he turns his computer monitor toward him before glancing over at me. “I’ll be right down.”
He returns the phone to its cradle before moving quickly to the door. “Danika, I have to go take care of something. Lock this door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me, Gabe, or Byron. Got it?”
I slide off the table onto shaky legs, and my stomach churns. “Savage, what’s going on?”
With a quick tug, he yanks the door open, glides through it, and turns back to pull it shut. “Danika, please, just do what I ask.”
The concern I see in his gaze makes me shut my mouth when all I want to do is chase after him and find out what’s going on. It’s not in my nature to sit on the sidelines, but I nod my understanding. He closes the door without another word, leaving me half-satisfied and more worried than I care to admit.
Hurry the fuck up!
The elevator seems to take an hour while I wait impatiently, unable to stop myself from looking back toward my office, and her.
I can still taste her in my mouth, and the sounds of her gasps and moans are echoing in my ears. The fantasy I had worked up in my head was nothing compared to the real thing.
But I can’t think about that now. Shaking my head, I try to get myself in the game. The shit is hitting the fan downstairs, and I can’t be distracted by my dick when I get down there, no matter how hard it is.
When the ding finally sounds and the doors slide open, I move in, punching the button for the main floor and waiting impatiently for the doors to close.
Jesus, I should have known something like this would happen.
Things have been going way too smoothly today, and my luck is never this good. It was only a matter of time before my “favor” for Dom was going to bite me in the ass. I just hadn’t imagined it would come this quickly.
The ding sounds, and the door slides open to the main floor and the melee ensuing by the main stage. Quickly taking stock of the situation, I see Nora clinging to the center stage pole watching the ruckus as Byron and Gabe try to pull people from the top of pile.
Where the fuck are Tubbs and Rocky?
I can’t see my door security guards over the throngs of people. Being so low to the ground has distinct disadvantages. I push my way through the crowd, ordering people back, but don’t make it very far before a wall of patrons block my path.
Shit, I will never get to Byron and Gabe from here.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I grab the wrist, twisting my torso to flip the assailant onto their back, but, thankfully, I catch a flash of familiar blonde hair in my peripheral vision and recognize Nora. She somehow made it to me from the stage.
“Savage!” She leans in, pressing herself to my side. “What should we do?”
“You need to get the fuck out of here, go back to the dressing rooms where it’s safe, and make sure all the other girls are back there.”
Anger flares in her eyes and she pushes past me and then turns to face me. “Hell no! I may look like a fucking princess, but I’m not helpless. Gabe and Byron need help, so we are going to help them.”
I growl at her, but she ignores me, turning back to the crowd and pushing people out of the way, making room for me to get through.
Maybe Nora is more like Dani than I realized. Nora and I will definitely be having a talk later.
We finally make it to the epicenter of the melee and I find Byron and Gabe, each with a choke hold on guys in expensive-looking clothes while another asshole is doing some serious ground and pound on some poor soul on the floor.
Byron catches my eye and nods down to the MMA-wannabe.
I nod my understanding and reach down, grabbing his arm as he brings it back for another swing, and twisting it backward. He screams, turning toward me, frantically trying to get the pressure off his shoulder and elbow.
“Fuck! Let go, you motherfucker!” The wannabe thrashes wildly, striking out at me with his free hand, but his fist only grazes my right cheek.
Damn, that actually kind of hurt. All this time away from the ring must have turned me into a real pussy.
Byron steps in and wrestles him away from me and I turn to find Rocky and Tubbs escorting the other two guys toward the front door.
“What the hell, man? That asshole started it!” Mr. Wannabe screams, pointing to the bleeding kid on the floor.
“I don’t give a fuck who started it. I don’t tolerate this bullshit in my club. You’re all banned from the premises, permanently.”
More cursing and grumbling comes from various directions, but I push my way through the crowd to the bar. Clarissa and Jamie are waiting for me, wide-eyed and visibly shaken.
“Everything’s fine, girls. Did you see what happened?”
Jamie nods. “Those guys were all part of that bachelor party that started out in the champagne room. They were really being assholes, then Byron moved them out here and they just got worse.”
I cringe. I knew it would come back to my Dom favor.
Selling your soul has repercussions.
“So, what started the fist portion of the evening?” I ask, glancing over to see Byron and Gabe shoving the last offender out the door.
“The bachelor grabbed Crystal’s leg while she was at the end of the stage. One of his buddies got real pissed and started screaming something about his sister. I have a feeling he is the future bride’s brother.”
I don’t blame the guy for reacting, but this stuff absolutely cannot happen in my club. Ever.
Glancing around the main room, I find things are slowly returning to normal. My employees are doing their jobs, wrangling the clientele and getting the girls back on the poles. I run a tight ship and I don’t let things like this ruin the evening for everyone, at least I try not to.
This is going to cost me.
“Have the waitresses tell their sections the next round is on the house. I wi
ll help you man the bar until things calm down.” They nod and disappear to tell all the waitresses just as Gabe and Byron make it back to the bar.
Gabe gives me an “I told you so” look.
“Don’t you fucking start with me,” I snap, grabbing a bottle of Glen Livet and pouring us all a shot. We raise our glasses in unison and down them in one gulp.
“Gabe, go check on Danika. I left her in my office. Keep her company until I’m done down here.”
His look holds a thousand questions that I have no plan on answering right now, or maybe ever, but he keeps his mouth shut and walks toward the elevator, leaving me and Byron to get things back to normal.
I down my second glass of bourbon and pour myself another one as I sit at Savage’s desk, my eyes glued to the footage of the club on the screen. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since Savage disappeared behind the door.
How the hell does he think he can just bolt out of here like that without explaining what’s going on to me?
I raced to his desk to see what was happening and found myself watching my baby sister push her way through a throng of men to get Savage to the middle of the crowd. My heart may have stopped when I saw that asshole throw a punch at him, but another glass of bourbon has somewhat steadied my nerves. That, and seeing Savage is okay.
Now, on glass three, my heartbeat is finally returning to normal as I watch him behind the bar. A knock at the door startles me, and I almost drop my glass. Setting it on the desk with my shaking hand, I stand to open the door but wobble on unsteady legs. Maybe I shouldn’t have poured that third drink. I kick off my heels and, with a little more balance, make my way to the door, Savage’s parting words echoing in my head.
“Who’s there?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly. Shit, adrenaline does weird stuff to your body.
“Danika, it’s Gabe, open up.”
I recognize his voice and turn the lock, opening the door and letting him in. He offers me a kind smile and closes and locks the door behind him.
