by Sunniva Dee
I cross my arms from my post by the D.J. booth and survey the club. We’re an hour from doors opening. Tonight is Santa’s Christmas Bash, and my employees are dressed accordingly in red and white, with Santa hats capping their outfits. I don’t have a creative streak, so I let Arriane go haywire on these sorts of occasions.
I won’t be wearing the outfit she ordered for me, but I show my charitable side by adding the Santa pin she handed me to my black shirt and jeans.
I’m about to jump down from my stool to help Christian with a fresh keg for the Miller tap, when one of my bouncers appears in the doorway. Jason scratches his head.
“Leon. I think your… chick’s back?” He makes it sound like a question.
“Which one?” I snap. There are too many I don’t want popping by.
“Uh, sorry—the last one.”
I haven’t played with girls since feisty Pandora disappeared. From Christian, I learned that her parents whisked her back to Childhood Village somewhere on the West coast.
“Pandora?” I ask, albeit I don’t consider her a girlfriend; I hadn’t owned her. She slept here often enough, though, and the road for her to become mine had been short when she vanished. Weeks of priming—and poof, she was gone. What a waste.
Pandora was hot as fuck, self-loathing, and unimpressed by me. She showed every sign of becoming a lasting girl. Let’s just say her disappearance left me in a pissy mood.
Jason doesn’t have time to reply before she stands there, long, golden locks in disarray, rushing over her breasts and tangling with the hand supporting her suitcase.
Suitcase?
I frown and get off the stool. In two strides I’m down next to her, push the hair from her face to see her eyes better. They twinkle with a crazy mixture of pain, humor, and apprehension.
“You moving in, sugar?” I ask, and she begins to laugh.
“Yeah, um. Only for a week, I promise. I totally forgot my key at home when I fled my parents’ wrath this morning.” She enunciates it Shakespearean-style, mocking herself.
“Did you now?” I smirk. “Is Shannon back too? Any of your other groupies?”
“No, just me. They’ll be here for New Year’s Eve, though.”
Hmmm. I’m liking the sound of this.
Jesus, she’s so fucking sexy. She’s got a hat tipped over her face. It’s not a Santa hat—more like the female version of a top hat. I can already picture her wearing only that hat on my bed. Spread eagle. My dick bounces to life at the thought.
I sneak a quick glance at my watch before I tilt her chin up enough to peck her lips. Pandora lets a warm puff of air out against my mouth.
“Jason, you’re right,” I agree without taking my eyes off her. “My chick’s back. Get her suitcase upstairs, will you?”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
Pandora and I watch him in silence until he’s disappeared up the steps to my apartment. “So,” I say. “Tough Christmas?”
“You have no idea.”
I drag my fingers through her hair, drape it across her back so I can see her throat. I caress it lightly for once, eliciting a quiet intake of air from her.
“Come here, I’ll get you a drink. Have you eaten?”
She blinks, considering. “Not since I had a burger at the airport in Dallas.”
“Okay, let’s make you a fruity one.”
“I’d rather—”
“No crème de menthe shots yet,” I explain patiently. “I’m making you a frozen banana and strawberry margarita. Food first.”
“But it’s too cold to have frozen drinks,” she whines.
I guide Pandora behind the bar, sneak up and nudge her into the counter. With my chin on top of her head, I press in close. She watches me work, plopping fruit into the blender, my arms framing her body. “Let’s get one thing straight, sugar. As long as you’re with me, you’ll follow my orders.”
“God, you’re bossy,” she mutters.
“You haven’t complained before.” I turn the mixer on and tighten my hold around her waist. What I make is more of a smoothie than a frozen drink. I squeeze her hard into me, causing her to cough with surprise.
“So ‘stop, Leon’ and ‘don’t hurt me’ don’t count as complaints in your book?” she gasps out, her breath coming faster. It’s the adrenaline kicking in.
I check who’s close by. I only see Arriane, and she’s got her back to us, so I slide my hands up to cup Pandora’s breasts. “Do you have any idea how much you turn me on? Ah, I am pissed at you for splitting.”
I force her tits upward, together. Then, I lean over her shoulder to get a full view of the creamy cleavage I’ve created. Before she has the chance to reply, I let go, pour her drink, and pull her out of the bar by the hand.
“Ready to open doors?” Jason calls out as we pass by.
“Yeah, bring it,” I say. “We’ll be right back down.”
Jason’s polite, but his mind races for the gutter at my words. His eyes flash over Pandora’s breasts before they reach my face. “Yes, Boss.”
Upstairs, I instantly focus on the task at hand: undressing this beautiful girl. Pandora lets me kiss her, but when I start undoing shirt buttons, her hands go up to stop mine.
Goddammit.
“What, Pandora?”
“Leon, I really only wanted to sleep here, and I…”
Standing on the floor, I grab her ass and jerk her against my cock. “Does this feel like I’m about to give you a free pass to the monastery?”
Thankfully, Pandora is a passionate girl. She shudders at the contact, and my spark of impatience recedes at her reaction. I still her chin with my palm and squeeze so she has to look up at me.
“You’re here with me, Pandora. Not some little college boy. It’s all or nothing. No games—except the ones I invent,” I add.
“But I have no other option. I don’t have my apartment key and—” Pandora is mixed messages in one sweet package; she hates to lose control, but her best orgasms are when she submits to my most unpredictable decisions. Tonight, I’m going to mark her as mine and make her scream my name. Her boobs heave beneath the fabric, so I pry her shirt open, freeing them.
“Please, listen to me, Leon,” she moans, already hot for me.
“Sure, speak up.” I make quick work of her bra, and roll her pants down her legs until they’re bunched around her ankles—like shackles. Hmm.
“I…”
I steady her head so I can open her mouth with my teeth. She’s stuck here now, in the middle of the floor, unable to move. “Fuck, you are so sexy.”
The smack of my hand hitting the target on the smooth flesh of her ass causes my dick to strain against my zipper.
“Leon, please.”
“Please what?” I caress her core, but despite her obvious arousal, she wiggles to get away. I rear back, staring at her. “What’s going on, Pandora?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“Fucking talk before my balls go blue,” I growl and dig my fingers into her butt hard enough for a sweet, little squeak to escape her.
“It’s complicated…”
“Like you, yes.” I nod, eyes wide with fake understanding.
“I think I’m sort of… in love with Dominic.”
Fuck.
My hands pause on her skin for a second before they continue exploring. “In that case, how come he’s not here with you?”
She’s quiet while I ease her down on my bed. I lift one leg at a time to free her from her clothes.
“Because he’s at home, and I’m in Deepsilver, and we’re not dating, and he might never come back here and he probably just worries about me like I’m a stupid little sister anyway.”
Ah, well. Seems simple to me.
“So we’re good, then?” I ask as I run two fingers through her cleft. Oh
, damn me—we better be good or I’ll be taking a long shower with my hand before I go back to work.
She stills under me as if she’s putting two and two together as well. Women. Why are the easiest things complicated to them?
“Or are you going to pine for Dominic or something?”
“‘Pine for,’” she repeats, giggling. “You’re an idiot.” Then, her arms fling around my neck and pull me down, and I groan with relief.
“You can pine for me,” I suggest. “Hey, better yet—be in pain for me.” I pinch her nipple and don’t let go until she arches into my hand.
“Ouch, asshole,” she yelps, and I’m so hard I can’t take another second.
“I’ve got an idea,” I whisper as I roll on a condom and plunge into her. “How about you stay like this on my bed always? Just nice and naked and ready?”
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” she moans between my thrusts.
Her fucking phone starts ringing. The damn thing won’t shut up, so I speed up until we both come much faster than planned. What the hell?
“Pandora, I’m going to smash your cell to pieces.”
Her cheeks are flushed when she gets off the bed, stumbling toward her purse. She reads who’s calling, drops the phone on the floor, and collapses on top of the sheets, an arm draped over her face. “My dad,” she muffles into the crook of her elbow.
“So? Answer.”
“Nuh-huh. He’s pissed, so pissed, Leon.”
“He’s on the opposite side of the continent, right?”
She peers at me over her arm, eyes widening with dread. “Shit, unless he’s here already. What if he’s on a plane here, Leon?”
The damn phone keeps ringing. This man does not take no for an answer. I sort of respect that.
“So—why did you ditch your dad?” I sneak a hand under her spine to make her arch toward me. With the other, I stroke her taut belly and down to the fine hairs over her pelvic bone.
“Because he locks me into a dark closet when I don’t listen to him.” She studies my reaction.
“Oh, uh-huh, one of those.” I nod. “That’s always fun. Mine was of the school of hard knocks.”
“What? Your dad?”
“Usually I’d do whatever I wanted, but once in a while he’d notice and knock the wind out of me. Hmm… twice a week, I’d say?”
“No—he hit you?”
“Well—” I drag out the suspense, enjoying her reaction because my childhood doesn’t affect me anymore. “More like kicked me in the stomach with his work boots.” I shrug. “He’d vary it, though. Anyways, you were saying?”
She’s in absolute shock. “Poor you!”
“Yep, poor me, etcetera, etcetera, so… did you leave before he could lock you up again? What did you do?”
“Got drunk on the beach with my friends, and my father was waiting for me when I came home. Shannon and I had an agreement that she’d bail me out if I didn’t answer her call. She got me out.” Pandora’s lip trembles.
“Nice,” I say, stilling her lip with my finger. The phone is finally silent. “You should give him a really quiet ringtone.”
That makes her laugh, and I grin.
“I left him a note too,” she says.
I raise my brows in question.
“Yeah. I wrote a lot of stuff, but I told him I’d cut him off as my father if he came after me.” Pandora chuckles, seemingly surprised herself. She rocks to her side and props up on an elbow, facing me. “Honestly, if he showed up in Deepsilver, I’d hide out until he left.”
The phone shrieks again, and Pandora jumps. “Gah, I should have kept it in off-mode.”
I shake my head. “So… you’re not picking up today, I’m guessing? I’ll talk to him.”
Her eyes widen with even more surprise than when we talked about my ass-kicking younger years. “You will?”
I hit “reply” and press the cell to my ear. “Hello?”
Stunned silence meets me on the other end. Then, her father gathers himself. “Who’s this?”
“Sir, you called, I believe. Whom am I speaking with?” I ask politely.
Both Pandora and her dad gasp. She covers her mouth with a hand to strangle the sound.
“This is my daughter’s phone! Who am I talking to!”
“Ah, you must be Mr. Cancemi. I’m Leon Stonewell, Pandora’s boyfriend.”
Pandora’s eyes are so big, it’s like we’re watching the scariest horror flick ever made. I cover the microphone with my thumb while I let out the laugh I can’t suppress anymore. She’s priceless right now.
“Excuse me? I didn’t catch that,” I reply to his string of not-so-carefully chosen expletives.
“My daughter does NOT have a boyfriend, and I don’t care who the hell you are. Put Pandora on the phone immediately!”
“Mr. Cancemi, I simply responded to your question. Please calm down—”
“Oh. My. God,” Pandora chokes out.
“—this can’t be good for your heart,” I finish.
“I have never… in my life…” Pandora’s father must have run out of profanities and commands in general. He breathes heavily into the phone, creeper-style. I lean back on the bed, eyeing the beauty next to me.
“Take your time, sir. Let me know if I can help you with anything. Other than connecting you with your daughter.”
“No, you listen to me, young man. Pandora needs to get on the phone right now! My daughter ran away from home, and—”
“With all due respect, sir, I believe Pandora is… hmm, college-aged.”
“Twenty!” she mouths.
“Which means she left home. She didn’t run away. Your daughter is an adult, who doesn’t want to talk with her abusive father—”
“What in the world? How dare you speak to me like that!”
I’m getting tired of this conversation. Her dad is starting to sound like an old lady.
“Sir, I’ll check if she’s changed her mind,” I tell him. “Pandora, do you want to talk with your abusive father?”
Her face is bright red with all sorts of emotions flickering over it. Incredulity, humor, fear. I wiggle the phone at her and shrug. “No pressure, sugar.”
Her father is yelling through the speaker. “Pandora, get on the damn phone right this second!”
I grimace. “Not the best time for a chat, maybe?”
She shakes her head vehemently. Then, she changes her mind and calls out, “Hi, Dad—don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
Man, she’s really fucking cute.
“You want to tell him when you’ll be ready to talk with him?” I suggest, and she bobs out a “yes.”
“I’ll call you after New Year’s, and we’ll catch up—if you’re done yelling,” she adds.
The phone is quiet for exactly two seconds before he starts ranting again. Really, I can’t listen to this anymore. I take over and tell him, “Sir, it’s been a pleasure, but I better go take care of your daughter now. She’s not too happy with your attitude. Have a wonderful day.”
Then, I hang up. Before I return Pandora’s phone, I get a glimpse of the screen filled with voicemails and text messages, many of them from Dominic. “You want me to switch it all the way off so he can’t call back?”
“Please,” she breathes, grateful.
I do and immerse myself in her one more time before we start the night downstairs.
The locale is packed, unfamiliar guests shoving into each other. I lean against the rack of glasses by the back mirror while I enjoy the view of Pandora going absolutely insane on top of my bar counter. She’s in stilettos, wiggling and doing silly little tap-dance moves that make people scream out in a mixture of catcalls and laughter.
I shout to Christian, who narrowly saves his tray of highball glasses when she side-sweeps to the music. Chuckling, I fo
ld my arms, enjoying her show.
The broken spirit and the pain Pandora works so hard to hide has disappeared in her crème-de-menthe-induced euphoria, and she rocks her body, wavy tangles of hair swinging down to her hips. Her beauty radiates from her now that a blissful smile stretches across her features.
Not once has she turned to seek my approval. What she does up there is for her own enjoyment, and as always, it makes me think of the perfect match we are. I’ve got Pandora now, and I have six days and six nights to make sure she’s hooked and doesn’t want to leave.
“Three Buds—longnecks, please,” some guy yells over the music. Christian pumps his chin up for him to repeat himself, which he does, louder this time. His eyes stray up my girl’s legs. “Damn, she hot or what?” he continues. “I’d tap that!”
Sure, I’m possessive. Once I’m in charge of a woman, I take care of her. That includes kicking the ass of any loser salivating over her.
Christian sends me a concerned side-glance, aware of my state of mind. “She’s spoken for. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he replies, placing one of the bottles in the guy’s hand before he can reach up Pandora’s leg.
The idiot isn’t taking the hint. He starts dancing below her and devouring her like she’s a stripper doing a table dance. Eyes glassy, he slurs out, “Yeah? Well, I don’t see a boyfriend around here!” His shoulders hike up in an exaggerated shrug.
Christian tries to block my exit, but I stalk past him and around the counter toward Pandora. I’ll be calling the bouncers in a minute. Just as I’m about to give the guy a last warning, Pandora wobbles and falls forward. One long leg kicks up in the air, while the knee of the other buckles. I shove past the patrons in time to catch her in the air.
She’s giggling, completely unaware that if she landed on the ground—it’s a silver-painted, concrete floor from the fifties—she’d at best end up with a concussion.
“Okay, sugar. Time for a break?” I suggest and stack her up on a barstool that became available during her fall.
“Sure! Whatcha got for me, sailor?” She grins and slams her hand on the wooden top as hard as any grown man. I snort and shake my head. “At this point? VOSS.”
