by Robin Leaf
“Cristiana, maybe we shouldn’t –”
“So, what’s our play here,” she pauses to look in my eyes, “Noah.”
Jesus, the way she says my name, like a dare, starts that tingle in my dick like it did three weeks ago when I saw her at the strip club. Shit, okay. Maybe I can do this.
I take her hand.
“We are a couple there to only observe. I will not leave your side, and you will not leave mine.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Have you… been there before?”
I nod. “Twice. I wanted a feel for the place.”
She looks down at her hand in mine. “Did you… um… participate in anything?”
I stifle my laugh, but I chuckle through my words. “No, Cristiana. I haven’t participated, and I don’t plan to tonight either.”
She looks up at me, and her relief is evident.
I take a deep breath to prepare myself for the trust I’m about to place in her.
“What I’m about to tell you is something you can tell no one, but I figured since you are essentially helping me with this case, you should know what it’s about.” She nods, so I continue. “We are looking for an elected official who may be using this club as a cover to have secret meetings with… um, well, I guess we can call him an international, um, businessman, which will potentially compromise national security.”
Her eyes widen and blink twice. “Whoa, that’s way different than catching a cheating spouse like I expected.”
Chuckling, I admit, “Oh, he’s doing that, too.” I let my smile fade and make my face as serious as possible. “There is a problem though. This guy I’m trying to catch might recognize me, so if he sees me, it could ruin the whole case.”
“So I’m supposed to distract and run interference?”
“Well, yeah,” I say, allowing a slow, seductive smile to spread on my face, “and to shield me.”
She looks me up and down. “You’re high if you think all five-foot-three inches of me can shield your big-ass body.”
I grab her waist and pull her flush against me, burying my face in her neck. “If we have to, we will look like a couple so overcome with desire that we just have to get close to one another.” My lips barely skim the skin behind her ear. “I may have to touch you in public, but I promise on all that is holy, this is as far as it needs to go.” I push back from her, taking in her dazed expression. “Shouldn’t be hard for someone who doesn’t want me.” I wink. “It’s why you’re perfect for this job.”
She shakes her head. I notice she does that a lot whenever I get to her.
Clearing her throat, she asks, “May I ask why he would recognize you?”
I bite my lips together, wondering what I should tell her. I decide to go for the truth.
“Because he hired me as a bodyguard for his son.”
Her eyes widen and she steps back. “You’re spying on Jason’s dad?”
What? “You know Jase?”
“Mama talked about him all the time when she cooked for both of you. She wanted me to meet him, I think so she could set us up.”
A fleeting wave of jealousy passes over me, but I question if it’s directed at Graciela pushing Jason, not me, on Cristiana, or if it’s the idea of Cristiana with Jason.
Her eyes search my face, and I’m afraid she can tell what I’m thinking. “Wait, isn’t his dad that self-righteous, stuck-up, bible-toting pendejo senator?” She wrinkles her nose and spits out, “Jack Heywood?”
And again, I’m questioning my decision to include her in my plan.
I got word from Tony that Cesar De La Torre called to request a special table tonight. It took a bit of finesse to get Tony to agree to let me know when the drug lord would be in the club, but since I shut down Randy and his drug dealing business pretty quickly and discreetly, Tony felt he owed me a favor.
Plus, he thinks I’m taking down De La Torre. Tony went on a twenty-minute rant against the sex-slave/human trafficking De La Torre does. He has no clue my target is the senator.
Tony allowed me access to his club without the normal waiting period, but I still had to pay the exorbitant fee. He says his silent partners would figure out something if I was allowed in for free. So, Jason agreed to pay the $50,000. He confirmed that his father was in L.A. tonight, so I’m taking the chance that he and De La Torre are meeting.
Jason is really motivated to take down his dad. I’m pretty sure he wants to make a move on the girl he’s been sort of dating for close to three years now. Jason believes his dad has the power to ruin him if he openly dates anyone outside their very small circle of acceptable politically-advancing families. It’s why Jason wants the sexual dirt on his dad… to blackmail him silent.
Jason doesn’t know just how twisted and evil Jack Heywood really is.
I nod to Cristiana.
“Yeah,” she says, stepping around me. “He’s not a nice man.”
She’s right. He’s not.
I can’t drag her into this mess.
Grabbing her wrist, I spin her around and pull her closer. “Cristiana,” I say, dragging my thumb down her cheek slowly, fighting to ignore how she leans into my touch. “It’s wrong to pull you into this. Maybe you should –”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to help you take down this pinche cabrón.” Smirking, she pats my cheek. “You’re not benching me, güero.” Her eyes dare me to argue.
I try to put on my most intimidating gaze, throwing some serious don’t-fuck-with-me eyes her way, but she just returns my evil stare with her own, not the least bit intimidated by me.
It’s this moment, right now, that I realize I’m over my head with this woman.
I’ve met my match. In fact, I think she just might have won.
***
“What do you want to drink?” I ask Cristiana, which if we are playing the role of couple, I should probably already know what she drinks. But asking her makes me look like a considerate gentlemen rather than some controlling dick weed who orders for her. Although there are a lot of Doms in the club who do everything for their subs…
God, I’m over thinking this.
It’s crazy that in the last few weeks of phone conversations, I learned some things about her, but not her favorite drink. We mostly talked about her family and her past jobs, and she heard childhood stories about me and Charlene and the fundamentals of how I built my business.
I really liked talking to her.
A lot.
But now, I’m actually nervous, which is ridiculous. I can perform secret military maneuvers, assassinate illegal gun runners from a quarter of a mile away, and never break a sweat, but acting like a couple with a woman who sets my soul on fire makes me act like a spaz.
She reaches over and grabs my hand, coaxing it open, and subtly massages it.
“I feel like a Cuba Libre tonight, babe.” She leans in like she’s kissing my neck. “Relax,” she whispers, reaching inside my jacket and patting my side.
“I just don’t want him to recognize me,” I say in her ear.
We’ve already seen the senator. He ducked into a booth, but I can’t see who else is sitting in it without getting close. It’s a risk I can’t take. I took a seat at the bar and pulled her close.
“I thought there’d be…” she begins, and then bites her lip.
I reach up and pull on her chin so that her plump lip pops out from between her teeth. God, I’m so tempted to bite it myself.
“You thought what?”
“Well, I guess I thought there’d be more to see.”
I smile, nodding to the people at the high table about thirty feet away.
“Look over there.” I wait for her eyes to find where I directed her. His hand is up her skirt, obviously fucking her with it, and from the look on her face –
“Damn, she’s about to come,” she breathes out quickly.
The man stops moving his hand, and the woman’s eyes turn to him.
“That puto denied her,” she whispers. “Man, I’d pu
nch him in the dick for that.”
“Now, now, now,” I say in her ear. “From what I hear, if a man stops right before she comes, waits until it subsides, then starts up again, it makes her orgasm more intense.”
The man removes his hand from between her legs and sticks his fingers in his mouth.
Cristiana shifts on her feet, and I can tell she’s intrigued.
“Do you see how hard he is?” I whisper in her ear. “He enjoyed it just as much as she did.”
She shakes her head and turns toward the bar, which now has our drinks. After downing half of hers, she turns toward me.
“We should probably be watching the booth,” she instructs shakily.
Watching her get flustered calms my nerves. I find that I want it to continue.
“Babe,” I say in her ear. “Look over there.”
She subtly turns in the direction I nod. I feel her stiffen, so I’m not sure if she is simply surprised to see a man in the corner casually jacking off while he talks to a couple, or if she doesn’t like it.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, not taking her eyes off the spectacle. “I just… didn’t expect it.”
“Well, you said you wanted to see more.”
“I meant I thought there’d be like, I don’t know, a show or something.”
I smile. “Like what? Sex on a stage? Like live porn?”
She flicks her eyes to me and goes back to watching the man.
“Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect.”
I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her closer.
“If you want to see more, there are viewing rooms in the back.”
“Like rooms with big windows?”
“Yes.” I take a drink. “I saw them when Tony gave me the tour. He hires performers to put on a show, and there are amateur rooms for people who just want to be watched.”
“Damn,” she whispers, I think from what I just told her, but on further inspection, I see that the man has stepped up his game with quicker strokes. He is still involved in a conversation with the couple, who either don’t know what he’s doing, or just don’t care.
“Hey,” I nudge her. “Look.”
The man at the first table we watched is back at it, but this time, her skirt is lifted so anyone can watch his finger move in and out of her. The light is perfect to reflect how wet his finger is as he retreats. That image very much interests my date for the evening. Her breathing changes, and she rubs her knees together and licks her lips.
I want to ask so many questions right now. Does she want to be with a woman? Does she want to be put on display? Does she want to be fingered like that woman is?
Mister masturbator and the couple he is with are now watching the fingering couple, both men’s hands moving in time with one another. Nana notices, and her eyes bounce back and forth between tables.
“Now look,” I tell her.
The man who was in conversation with the masturbator is now getting a hand job from the woman, who I assume is his wife.
Cristiana turns to face the bar and takes a big drink, the side of her thumb finding her teeth.
“Are you okay?” I ask, checking the table we’re supposed to be watching. Still seeing the senator there, I relax.
She nods. “I just need a break from… that.”
“Is it too much? I can walk by the table and get what I need, then we can leave.”
Shaking her head, she looks me in the eye. “I just need a minute. I’ll be fine.”
She lifts her glass at the bartender before downing the remaining contents of her glass.
I watch all three tables. Now, the missus at the masturbator’s table is blowing her husband, who is intently watching the man masturbate. I wonder if she knows her husband is bisexual. Then it hits me… that’s probably why the other man is there. They are probably propositioning him.
And the man has stopped fingering the woman a second time, working her up for something big.
Cristiana glances over her shoulder. “Why don’t they just go to one of the viewing rooms?”
I shrug and look in her eyes. “You want me to go ask them?”
She picks up her new drink and throws me a dirty look, making me smile.
The senator stands and moves to the other side of the table and holds out his hand to the side, indicating someone will be getting out of the booth and will go first to the back hallways. It’s a man, but his back is to me. The man grabs the senator’s genitals as he passes, taking a second to fondle them before leading him away.
“Hey, he’s on the move.”
She grabs her drink and downs it before taking my hand and following close behind me.
We get to the first hallway.
I stop her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I need you to look down that way and see if you see him.”
She tries. “I can’t see anything over your big shoulder.”
I turn slightly sideways and bury my face in her neck. “Now can you see?”
“He’s down there, but I still can’t see what he’s doing or who he’s with.”
I go to look, but she stops me with her hand on my cheek.
“No, he’s facing this way.” She looks up directly in my eye. “Go down on me.”
Twelve
Cristiana
His mouth drops open.
“What? No, Nana. I made a promise to you –”
“You don’t need to actually do anything. Just get on your knees, put your head under my skirt, and pretend.” I nod encouragingly, because this really is the best idea. “Then I can watch the senator and see if he’s with that guy you described.”
“I…” he stammers. “I don’t know if I…”
“Damn, güero,” I whisper. “If the idea grosses you out so much –”
He pulls back to look in my eyes. “I can’t be that close to your pussy and not want to…”
“I trust you.”
He searches my face for a few seconds. His eyes admit the moment he accepts my idea. I lean into him, and he bends down to whisper in my ear.
“If it gets too much for you, tell me to stop in Spanish.” His nose skims my neck.
I whimper as he pushes me up against the wall, not too gently either.
His hands slide down my back, landing on my ass over my dress.
“I love this ass, feeling it in my hands,” he announces as he squeezes. “It’s fucking perfect.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, enjoying what I can get from him, even if it is for show.
When I open them, he glares at me, and I’m not sure why. “What?”
“Cristiana, are you wearing underwear?”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t with this dress.”
He groans and drops to his knees, sticking his nose right between my thighs. He inhales and looks up at me, those blue eyes almost completely black. “I will keep my promise.”
I swallow, mostly to keep the words in my throat, the ones that will give him permission to break it. “I know,” I whisper, repeating, “I trust you.”
His hands grip the exposed portion of my thighs. I feel his hot breath there, just like he did when he danced for me. He’s going to torture me.
Well, two can play that game.
I grab his head and moan, drawing the stares of others.
His eyes find mine again, watching my reaction as he glides his hands up the front of my thighs, pushing my dress up as he goes. He stops short of exposing me and leans forward, blocking me from view.
“No one sees this but me,” he growls, loud enough so anyone close can hear him. He’s playing the alpha, and oh my God, it’s fucking hot.
I see the glint in his eyes; he’s toying with me. He knows he’s driving me crazy.
His nose skims the hem of my skirt, back and forth slowly, just barely bumping my pubic bone, all the while not taking his eyes off mine.
“Are you wet for me, cariño?”
One corn
er of his mouth curls, and I know he called me that to get under my skin. Maybe he wants me to stop him, or maybe he’s daring me to go further. I’m not sure.
Honestly, right now, he could call me any name in the book, and it wouldn’t take me out of this moment.
“Only one way to find out, güero,” I say, throwing his dare right back at him.
His eyes leave mine to follow his hands, which move under my dress, up to the very tops of my thighs. His thumbs slide in between my thighs to the tops of my legs, just shy of my pussy, through the evidence that proves that I am, in fact, very wet.
He pulls one hand out carefully, so as not to expose me, and sticks his thumb in his mouth, groaning. It makes my head rush.
“I needed a sample,” he says.
“How was it,” some male voice asks.
He looks at me again, and his eyes are now completely black. “Delicious,” he says, answering the man, but not taking his eyes off me.
Fuck. That was so hot, I close my eyes tightly, trying to fight this dizzy feeling.
Noah moves back in again, rubbing his face against me, carefully avoiding doing anything that might break his stupid fucking promise.
God, how I wish he would break it.
I open my eyes and find it’s hard to focus for a second. An audience has gathered. I squint, but I don’t see the senator. However, a man matching the description Noah gave me is closer to us.
I look down quickly at Noah and nod, hoping he gets my meaning.
When I focus back on the crowd, what catches my eye is a woman on her knees in front of a man, who is also watching me. He holds her head and fucks her mouth.
Holy shit. I find I really like watching them. I feel a wave of dizzy lust wash over me.
Noah pulls back and looks up at me.
“You just got wetter. What do you see?” he asks, moving his hand upward to the skin right where my thigh joins my body. He holds it still, and I feel his eyes on me.
I look him in the eye. “Please,” I whisper, begging with my eyes.
Whoa, Nana, where the hell did that come from?
“Look out there,” he commands, so I do. “Tell me what you see.”
“A man… he’s…” I trail off, fascinated by watching them.
