by M. S. Parker
Not that we were dating.
“You and your mom come here?” she asked.
I nodded. “She and Addison went to school together, and we'd come by every few weeks.”
She opened the menu. “Then you should know what's best to eat.”
As I started to go through my favorites, I realized how much I wanted her to like it here. Despite my resolve to keep things in the friendship zone – hopefully with benefits – I couldn't seem to stop myself from wanting more. I knew I'd have to deal with it sooner or later, but I wasn't going to do it now. Right now, I planned to enjoy a meal with a beautiful woman.
* * *
I wished Bryne and I could've gone to Club Privé, even if only to dance, but I'd used up the little bit of extra cash I had on dinner, and I wasn't about to let Bryne know that I couldn't afford a cover charge or drinks. That meant our choices were limited, so I just said we were going to a club that was closer. A friend of mine was the doorman there, so we wouldn't have to wait in line.
“You have a lot of friends,” she commented as we started to walk.
I shrugged. Friend might've been too strong a word for most of the people I knew. Addison was one, but there were very few others. More like acquaintances with mutual interests. This particular one was Georgie's cousin, but I wouldn’t tell Bryne that. She hadn't really said much about the guys from the shop, but I didn't need her to say a word to know that she definitely didn't like Georgie.
The music was blaring so loud that we could hear the bass before the door even opened, but I didn't mind. We'd talked over dinner. Now, I wanted to get physical. I tossed our coats towards another of Georgie's cousins, then grabbed Bryne's hand and pulled her toward the dance floor.
I put one hand on her hip, and we started to move. We found the rhythm easily enough, and she didn't protest when I moved closer. There were bodies all around us, brushing against us as we danced, but hers was the only one I was aware of. Aware didn't even seem to be a strong enough word, but it was the only one I could think of that got even close.
Her breasts brushed against me, and my erection pressed painfully against my zipper. Out of necessity – I hadn't done laundry in almost two weeks – I was going commando tonight, but now I was starting to think that had been a bad idea.
She turned around, pulling my arm with her so that my hand rested on her hipbone. Air hissed from between my teeth as she pushed her ass back against my crotch. The look she threw over her shoulder told me that she knew exactly what she was doing to me. My fingers dug into her, and I wished she'd worn a dress tonight. I would've made her regret teasing me.
I clenched my jaw as new images assaulted me. Sliding my hand up her bare leg, moving under her skirt, and then over her panties. Cupping her over soft fabric and feeling how wet she was for me. Slipping my hand beneath the waistband, fingers skimming through curls before dipping between dripping folds.
The thought of fingering her to climax right here on the dance floor was too much. I needed to see her come.
Now.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her after me. I'd never worked here, but I'd been here often enough that no one thought twice about me pushing open the door that said “Employees Only” like I owned the place. The hallway was dimly lit, the red exit sign glowing from the end, but I wasn't going that far. The first door on the right led to the basement where the alcohol was kept. The second was the manager's office. The only door on the left, however, was a janitor's closet. Not exactly romantic, but I didn't care.
I turned on the light, did a quick sweep of the small space, then reached over Bryne to shut the door. Her body pressed against me as I took her mouth. Her tongue slid across mine without any hesitation, her nails lightly scratching the back of my neck. I grabbed her ass with one hand, the other fisting her hair. I maneuvered her until the back of her boots bumped against the wooden pallet I'd seen.
I tore my mouth away, her sound of protest sending heat coursing through me. I spun her around and ordered, “Up.”
A look of confusion flitted across her face, followed quickly by understanding. Even with heeled boots, she was still a lot shorter than me. The quickest way for this to happen was from behind, and for that, she needed to be standing on something.
I dug a condom out of my wallet and freed my dick. Even as I put the rubber on, Bryne was pushing her jeans and underwear down her thighs. I muttered a curse under my breath as she bared her ass. I usually prided myself on my staying power, but I wasn't going to last long. Not with her leaning forward, wiggling her hips in a blatant invitation.
I moved behind her and ran my hand between her legs. A shiver went through her, and my fingers came away wet. Everything in me was screaming to just slam into her, but I remembered how tight she was, and knew that without foreplay, I'd hurt her.
That didn't mean I had to be gentle.
I pushed two fingers inside her, my cock twitching as she made a strangled sound. I pumped them in quick, twisting strokes, stretching her as much as I could with the limited space and time we had.
I leaned down to bite her earlobe before saying, “This is the perfect position to fuck your ass.” Her muscles clenched around my fingers. “Have you ever had a cock there?”
She shook her head, and my stomach tightened at the thought of getting to take that cherry. Not right now though. I'd want her to enjoy it, and that meant preparation. She wasn't like other girls I'd been with who would take me with little more than some lube and a word.
“We'll put that on the to-do list.” I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and reached around her. She didn't even wait for me to tell her to clean them, her tongue darting out to get two licks in before I slid them into her mouth.
The head of my cock brushed against her, and as I moved my hand from her mouth to her hair, she pushed her ass back toward me. She let out a soft cry as I drove into her, filling her with one thrust. Her pussy was almost painfully tight, but I didn't wait. Hell, I wasn't sure I could. I wrapped one arm around her waist and kept the other in her hair, holding her in place as I started to move.
My strokes were short, each one going as deep as I could, wanting to reach every last inch until I owned her body. I wanted to make sure I banished every other partner from her mind, that mine was the only touch she wanted. I wanted to ruin her for other men. I was already half sure that she'd ruined me.
I yanked her back by her hair, earning another of those hot little yelps she'd been making. I pulled her head to the side and pressed my mouth against the place where her shoulder and neck met. The pressure building inside me was intense, and I knew I was close. I just needed to get her there first. As I dropped the hand on her waist down between her legs, I sucked on her skin hard enough to leave a mark. She cried out my name when I bit down, then swore when my fingers found her clit.
I'd barely begun to rub her before she came unglued. Her body stiffened, every muscle tensing as she came. I pushed myself hard inside her, my fingers still moving over her swollen clit until she came again. She shuddered, and the sensation of her muscles rippling around my cock pushed me over the edge.
We stood there for a minute as we came down, our bodies still joined, the only sound in the room our ragged breathing. I couldn't look away from the mark I'd left on her neck, unable to tell myself that I'd gotten carried away. Even if I hadn't admitted it to myself at the time, I knew that a deep and primal part of me had wanted to mark her, to let everyone else know that she was mine.
I closed my eyes even as my arm tightened around her waist. What was this woman doing to me?
Chapter Four
Bryne
New York City had something in the water that turned me into someone completely different than I’d been in DC. That had to be it. After all, it was the only reasonable explanation for why I was pulling up my pants after having had sex in a janitor's closet. Sex with the man who'd taken my virginity when he'd been little more than a stranger. A dangerous-looking stranger with tattoos al
l over his arms and torso. And I couldn't forget his nipple piercing. Not when I still wanted to see what would happen if I used my tongue to play with it.
Fuck. I wanted him again.
“Ready?”
I looked over at Dax, who was holding out a hand to me, his expression impassive. I took his hand but didn't say anything as we walked back out into the club. I wasn't going to over think this, whatever this was. I’d simply accept the fact that my entire body was still tingling from an almost brutal orgasm.
I hadn't read a whole lot in the romance department, but in one book, I remembered reading a sentence that used the phrase “wrung an orgasm out of her.” I understood that wording now. Dax hadn't hurt me, but he definitely hadn't been gentle either.
Growing up, dating and sex hadn't ever been priorities, but on the occasions where I thought about it, fantasized about it, it was always passionate, but nothing like what I'd experienced with Dax.
The thing that worried me as Dax pulled me against his side was something I hadn't taken into consideration. While some people always compared kisses to a first perfect kiss, most people didn't tend to do that with their first sexual experience. From everything I'd heard, most of the time, it was awkward and often disappointing. The fact that my first time had been the kind of sensual experience that should've only existed in the pages of some steamy romance novel, and each time after that had been just as good, made me worry that I was setting myself up for disappointment.
My body pulsed in time with the beat of the music, and even though I knew I was going to be sore tomorrow – I was already starting to feel it – I wanted more. I wanted to dance with him, feel his body pressed against mine. It wasn't just about getting us worked up either. I wanted to show every woman in here that I'd had him, and I would be having him again.
The spot on my neck where he'd bit me didn't hurt, but I was definitely aware of its presence. I didn't know if he meant anything by it, or if it was a heat of the moment kind of thing, but I couldn't stop myself from hoping he wanted people to see it, and know that we were together.
Well, not together together, because he wasn't my boyfriend. We weren't dating. A date had to be labeled as a date and agreed upon, right? And we definitely hadn't done that. We talked at dinner, but we never broached the subject of what it was. Which meant we weren't on a date.
As we made our way around the dance floor, Dax stiffened next to me. I looked up but wasn't surprised to see that I couldn't read a single thing on his face. I followed the direction of his gaze, hoping for a clue to what was going on...and my own body tensed.
Coming straight toward Dax and me was a familiar, and unwelcome, figure. Long light brown hair, eyes as black as coal. Enough metal on her face to make me wonder what happened when she went somewhere with a metal detector. She shot me a glare, but for the most part, her gaze was fixed on Dax.
He started to walk past her when she reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her hand, up at her, then raised an eyebrow.
“Outside.” She had to shout to be heard.
Dax gave a sharp nod and led the way, practically dragging me behind him. As we went, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to hear this conversation. Clearly, Dax knew who she was. I'd assumed as much, but there was a difference between assuming and knowing.
I shivered as soon as we stepped outside, remembering that Dax had handed our coats to someone when we first arrived. His arm went around me, and he pulled me against his side. The embrace felt stiff, but I wasn't going to complain. He was warm.
“What do you want, Cleo?” Dax's voice was flat, almost bored-sounding.
“Haven't seen you in a while.” She gave him the sort of smile that told me exactly what she meant by seen.
“What do you want?” he repeated. “As you can see, I'm busy.”
Busy. Yeah, that was one way to describe it.
“We have a...” one side of her mouth lifted in a smirk, “mutual friend who wants to talk to you.”
I worked to keep a frown off my face. I didn't like the sound of that, but I didn't want either Dax or Cleo to know. Dax wasn't mine. Not in the sense that I had the right to know things about him, or to feel anything about his life. We weren't even close enough as friends for me to ask about what was going on.
Still, I wasn't prepared for what Dax did next.
“Do you have a car you can call?”
It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me. I nodded, repressing a shiver as he dropped his arm and took a step away from me.
“A security guy is standing just inside the door,” Dax said, his eyes not meeting mine. “Tell him you need your coat, and stay inside until your car gets here. You don't need to be out here alone.”
I wanted to snap back that if he cared that much, he could damn well stay with me, but I didn't. We weren't like that. And if I had to tell myself that over and over until it got through, I would.
I turned and walked back toward the door without responding. I wasn't sure I could keep my temper if I opened my mouth. Especially with the daggers Cleo was shooting at me. I doubted I would've liked her even if she hadn't threatened me.
I found the guy Dax mentioned, and while he was getting my coat, I pulled out my phone and called up the town car my uncle had reserved for family. Unlike some other car services, Gavin's was open twenty-four seven, so I knew I wouldn't have to wait long for someone to come for me.
When I was at Club Privé, I knew I was out of place, but I’d also known the reason – I was underage. Well, that and the obvious fact that it was a sex club. Here, I knew I was technically too young, but that wasn't why I felt awkward standing near the exit by myself. When Dax and I first arrived here, I'd seen that this place wasn't as nice as Club Privé, but I hadn't felt it until now. There was a definite difference between the people I'd been around at my uncle's club and the ones here. Some people might've thought it was about the money since Club Privé was private, elite, but I'd been around money long enough to know that wasn't it. I'd felt safe at my uncle's club, even before I knew he owned it. Here, I wasn't about to let down my guard.
That meant it wasn't until I was in the back of one of Gavin's cars, on my way back home, that all those thoughts about Dax started pushing forward. I still felt more like a guest at Carrie and Gavin's loft, but New York was starting to feel more like home than DC ever had. I'd loved Nana and Papa, and I’d always known they loved me. They never made me feel like I owed them anything.
But it hadn't been home.
Especially once I told my mother that I was moving to New York. Things had been pretty tense around the house after that. We'd exchanged a couple texts since I arrived in the city, but no way could I go to her to talk over what happened tonight.
The problem was, I didn't think I could talk to Carrie either. The last time I'd discussed Dax with my aunt, she'd fired him from his security job at Club Privé. I didn't want to think what she'd do if I told her about Cleo warning me away from him, or the fact that Dax had pretty much blown me off with one word from her.
I kept telling myself that he hadn't been happy to see Cleo, and he certainly hadn't been flirting. His sending me home had to do with whoever this “mutual friend” of theirs was and not anything to do with me.
That didn't keep my mind from trying to show me images of Dax and Cleo together. Of him taking her to the same back room we'd been in and peeling off her painted-on leather pants so he could fuck her. Of her moaning his name. Him saying hers. Marking her like he'd marked me.
“Knock it off,” I muttered to myself.
I wasn't the jealous type, at least I didn’t think I was, although I’d never been in a relationship long enough to really know. Besides, Dax didn't seem to like Cleo very much. Surely he wouldn’t have sex with someone he didn't like when he'd just had sex with someone he did. Because I was certain he like me. As a friend, of course. Nothing more.
And that was the other thing I needed to keep remembering. I had no claim
on Dax, and he had none on me. We were friends, or at least well on our way there. Even if we kept the “with benefits” part of things, it wasn't a relationship.
After I thanked my driver and headed inside, I realized that the fidgeting I'd been doing in the car hadn't been as absent-minded as I thought.
My fingers kept tracing around and over the dark mark Dax's mouth had left on my skin.
I sighed. Dammit. This wasn’t part of my plan.
Chapter Five
Dax
I told myself that the reason I hated watching Bryne go back into the club without me was because I'd been looking forward to fucking her again. Having her only a few minutes ago wasn't even close to enough. Hell, I'd just come, and was already half-hard from thinking about being inside that tight pussy again.
My desire for sex couldn't completely rationalize the fact that I'd told her to stay inside until her car came. I wasn't a total asshole who didn't care about women being safe, but with anyone else, I doubted the thought would've crossed my mind. I would've assumed she knew how to take care of herself and left it at that. I knew Bryne was capable, but the thought of something happening to her had me wanting to go after her so I could make sure she was safe.
I had to keep my cool though. It wouldn't be smart to let anyone know the sorts of thoughts Bryne made me have. Especially not Cleo.
As I looked down at her, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one up. She held the pack out to me, and I shook my head, glaring at her. The only grandparent I remembered had died from lung cancer when I was a kid. Remembering how Gramp had looked those last couple months had always been enough to keep me from lighting a death stick.
And Cleo damn well knew it.
We'd gone out on and off for a few months a couple of years ago, and while I'd never gone so far as to call her my girlfriend, she knew more about me than anyone else I'd been with. I didn't even like to say that we dated because that implied something even less casual than what we'd had. We'd hung out a decent amount, but it wasn’t because I'd asked her to or anything. One of her cousins worked at the shop, and she'd always made that her excuse.
