“Hey Rocky, VIPs are
here,” Juan yells from behind me, interrupting my erotic daydream.
Well shit! Now I’m
all hot and bothered thinking about Jack. I’ll have to take care of
that in the bathroom on my fifteen-minute break. Pushing all thoughts
of him out of my head, I send Lexi, the server, over to the table to
get the drink orders. The group of casually dressed men look like
they range in ages anywhere from their late twenties to early
fifties, and they already look like they’ve been drinking for a
while. Fucking fantastic!
One of the older men
walks over to the bar for his drink. “Well good evening, stud,” I
purr. Ugh! He’s disgusting, so obviously ogling me. “What can I
service you with tonight?” I hate that stupid fucking line that
Juan thinks is so funny and makes the female bartenders ask the VIP
guests.
“Well, your mouth
would work for a bit,” the old fart answers.
“So sad for you
because tonight isn’t your lucky night.” I shoot him my trademark
don’t-fuck-with-me look, but it’s lost on him because he’s
currently staring at my tits. “Eyes up here, pal,” I say,
snapping my fingers and then pointing to my face.
“Ahh, yeah, suuuure,”
he sloppily says, his eyes red and bleary as he finally looks me in
the eyes.
“What kind of drink
do you want?” I ask, rudely. He gives me his order, and I quickly
mix his rum and coke and give it to him so he can return to his
table. Lexi walks over with the other orders, which I promptly fill,
and she carries them over on a tray just as the show’s starting,
and all their eyes are focused on the stage.
Brooklyn, aka Molly my
roommate, is only stripping to pay her way through college. When
she’s finished school and earns her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree,
she plans on trading her gig as dancer in for a career in Graphic
Design. I’m sure she’ll succeed because she’s not just a pretty
face. She’s got brains to boot.
I watch her as she
struts out onto the stage, wearing an almost non-existent hot pink,
faux leather, skintight halter-top, ultra-short mini skirt with
garters, fishnet stockings, and neck-breaking stiletto heels. The
song “Crazy Bitch” by BuckCherry starts thrumming through the
surround sound in the club, and the lights flash to match the beat of
the song. She starts working the pole in the middle of the stage.
Every thrust and sway of her hips effectively sets off all the men in
the room.
Their eyes start
bugging out of their sockets, and they start whistling and yelling
out all the vile things they’d like to do to her or that she can do
to them. These guys are pathetic. None of them realize that she’s a
smart, beautiful woman, and not just a piece of meat. All they see is
tits, ass, and va-jay-jay. Assholes!
Rolling my eyes in
disgust, I wipe the bar-top down and do a quick visual inventory of
the bar while waiting for my guests to be ready for another round of
drinks. Noticing that we’re out of Jack Daniels, I decide to get
some from the main bar downstairs. I grab a bottle from the stock
room behind the main bar on the lower level and head back up to the
VIP section. When I get back upstairs, I look over toward the stage
and see Molly’s finished her routine. That’s when I also notice
another table seated with five men.
What the hell?
I thought
it was only supposed to be one party tonight.
“What the hell, Juan?
I thought it was only supposed to be one table tonight?” I ask
sounding more than a little pissed off.
“They just showed up,
babe. You know me, I can’t say no to high paying customers,” Juan
says.
“Yeah, yeah,” I
huff at him, heading back behind the bar.
A petite auburn-haired
girl, who I’ve never seen before, saunters out on stage wearing
what amounts to be a white string bikini and a fish-net cover up with
red knee-high leather boots as the song “Cherry Pie” by Warrant
begins to play. I scan the room for Lexi, but I can’t see her
anywhere. I hate to do it because I have a feeling it’s not going
to end well, but I walk over to the newly seated table to take their
orders anyway. I don’t know why, but as I approach the table one of
the guys catches my eye as he turns away, walking toward the
washrooms. All I see is his back, but there’s something there that
draws me to him. Pulling my eyes away from the mysterious man, I look
ahead at the remaining ones.
This group’s way
different from the first group. They’re all fairly attractive and
wearing what looks to be expensive tailored suits. Awesome—these
guys might even be worse than the other group of guys. They look like
a bunch of smug, arrogant assholes that think they can do
whatever
and
whomever
they want.
“Nice,” one guy
says, scanning me from head-to-toe.
Creeper.
“Where can I
get me some of you later?” He grabs my ass, pulling me toward him.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I slap Handsy McHandserson’s paws away and
immediately scan the room looking for Juan.
Where the fuck is he?
“Don’t ever touch
me, unless I ask. Got it?” I hiss.
“I know you want it,
sexy,” he slurs, taking my hand in a stealth grip and pulling me
onto his lap, driving his small hard-on into me. One of his hands
slides up my outer thigh and under the edge of my skirt. That shit’s
not going to happen. I’m getting ready to plant my other fist in
his face, when I feel someone approach me from behind. Great, Juan’s
finally here. He can take over. I really don’t want to chip another
nail punching some asshole in the face.
“Get your fucking
hands off her now … and don’t ever fucking touch her again!” I
freeze as an oh-too-familiar voice resonates through the air. It’s
the voice that I’ve imagined hearing day and night for over two
years. It’s also the voice that I hear when I make myself come. It
belongs to the
only
man that has
ever
made me come. And
when I say come, I mean earth-shattering, breath-stealing,
mind-numbing orgasms that’d take me hours to recover from.
I don’t feel
anything
when I sleep with other men, but I don’t let them know that. Since
my senior year of high school, I’ve become a pretty stellar
actress.
Charlize Theron, eat your heart out!
I can fake
orgasm with the best of ‘em. I know all the right moves and sounds
to make. I just moan and groan like they do in porno movies and
clench and flex the muscles in my pussy, and voila, instant fake
orgasm. I’m pretty sure I’ve fooled every one of the idiots I’ve
slept with, but with this guy, it was all too fucking real.
He puts his hands on me
and pulls me off the man’s lap. I turn around and come
face-to-chest with Jack fucking De Luca. I can’t help but quickly
scan him over.
Holy fucking hell, he looks smoking hot!
His
wavy dirty blonde hair’s cut short and is styled all messy-like,
and his jaw has just enough of a five o’clock shadow to make him
uber sexy. I take a second to imagine him between my legs, scratching
the sensitive skin on my inner thighs with his jaw. A quiet rumble
comes from the back of my throat.
Did I just purr?
Yep, I
totally fucking did. Hope he didn’t hear. His emerald green eyes
are boring into mine, and his expression is unreadable, so I’m not
really sure. I continue with my quick body scan.
Instead of wearing his
denim and leather that I became accustomed to seeing him in when we
first met, he’s also decked out in an expensive black tailored suit
that fits his hard body in all the right places. Unfortunately, for
me, since he’s wearing this suit, all of his sexy-ass tattoos are
completely covered, but he still manages to make me wet for him.
“Conners, man, cool
it. I was just playing,” the man that groped me suddenly says,
snapping me out of my thoughts. He must be on the job or something,
considering the man just called him Conners.
“Yeah, well enough.
Stay the fuck away from her!” You can hear the venom in his words,
and it is hot-as-fuck. I turn and run back toward the bar. Oh God,
this isn’t good. My body’s reacting to him like it did the very
first time I laid eyes on him. I’m so hot right now. All that’s
running through my mind is Jack and the serious fucking we can do. I
feel the moisture forming between my legs, dampening my panties. I
can have him here—it’s not like I haven’t ever fucked anyone on
the job before.
“Payton, we need to
talk,” he says, coming up behind me again. I jump and move away
from the bar and out in the open. I can’t stand to be backed into a
corner or against something, unable to have a way out.
“What’re you doing
here?” I ask, not using his name. If he’s on the job, I don’t
want to blow his cover.
“I’m working. What
the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, sounding even more pissed
off. This is not going to be a good night, not at all. Fuck my life.
“What’s it look
like,
Conners
? I’m working, too,” I hiss at him.
“Don’t do this,
Payton. I meant what the fuck are you doing in Del Mar? Are you
living here now?” he demands.
“I don’t think
that’s any of your business now, is it?” I return with my own
question, walking away, making sure to put an extra bit of sway into
my hips. I head over to Juan and inform him about what just happened
and that I’m done with the VIP section, so he better get one of the
other girls to take over. He’s not happy, but I tell him to let the
customers be and finish their night. I don’t know why, but if
Jack’s working undercover then I don’t want to compromise his
mission.
I head downstairs to
work as a server on the main floor, and the rest of the night goes by
in a pretty fast blur. I manage to successfully avoid running into
Jack again. I’m still stunned that I saw him tonight and wonder if
Ella and Ryder know that he’s back in town. I guess not, because
I’m sure Ella would’ve told me. But she might not have
considering she knows how pissed off I was that he lied to me. When
the bar clears out and we finish doing the nightly clean up, balance
out the cash, and divide the tips for the night, I go back to the
dressing room and swap out my dominatrix boots for flip flops. I’m
the last one to leave through the employee entrance, so I lock the
door and walk toward my baby. God, did I ever mention how much I love
my car? A lot.
“Payton!” his sexy
voice calls out.
Shit!
What’s he
still doing here?
I was hoping he’d left already. I keep
walking toward my car, quickening my pace. I need to get out of here,
fast. I can’t be around Jack right now because I can’t control
myself when I’m around him. I don’t know why I’m acting as if
I’m pissed off at him, because if I’m being completely honest
with myself, I’ve already forgiven him for lying to me. And really
who am I to judge, after all? I’m not being honest to anyone in my
life. It’s just easier for me to let him believe that I still hate
his guts. Ignoring him, I reach my car and open the door, when it’s
suddenly being slammed shut again. He grips my shoulders and spins me
around to look at him, but I keep my eyes aimed downward. Shit,
fucking, shit! I can’t do this.
Do not look at him, Payton. You
know what’ll happen,
I warn myself.
“What, Jack? What do
you want?” I snap. Shit, I don’t think I should’ve used his
real name. The guys he was with might’ve heard. Of course, I make a
huge mistake and look up at him, noticing he has his suit jacket and
tie off. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, and
the sleeves are rolled up exposing some of the tattoos on his arm.
Fuck me, he looks even hotter.
I force my eyes to look away.
“Payton,” he says,
his voice dripping with lust, pushing me back against my car with his
big masculine body. He leans his face into my neck and begins
licking, nibbling, and kissing the skin there. Then he pushes his
hardness into me, making me gasp against his neck and breathe in his
familiar scent. I’m taken by the moment, and by what I‘ve missed
over the last two years—forgetting what’s happened between us.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. So what if it’s only
for one night. It’s something I can use later when I need to take
care of myself. He grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my head back,
making me look at him before he smashes his mouth down on mine with a
bruising kiss. I’m a goner. My body’s so turned on that I don’t
even know my own name.
“Jack,” I moan
against his lips. His hands make their way to my ass, lifting me to
the hood of my car where I wrap my legs around him. My hands roam
over his muscular body, tracing his defined abs that feel even harder
than I remember.
“Fuck, baby. I need
you,” he groans against my kiss-swollen lips, while sliding his
hands down my body and pushing my skirt upward. Seconds later, his
other hand moves between my legs and begins stroking me over my wet
thong, sending shivers through my aroused body. “Just how I
remembered, so ready for me,” he hisses through his teeth, as his
fingers feel the evidence of my arousal.
I want to push him away
and tell him to go fuck himself, but he quickly pushes two fingers
inside of me. The feeling’s so intense I arch my back pushing my
breasts out to him in offering. It feels fucking amazing, and I can’t
imagine pushing him away now. Over my tank top, he takes one of my
nipples in his mouth, causing me to moan. I love the sensation of
Jack touching me again, he makes me hot and crazy all over like no
man could before.
Suddenly, I feel cold
air engulf my body as Jack’s body weight leaves mine. I watch the
erotic motions as Jack withdraws his fingers and brings them to his
open mouth, sucking my taste off of them. Holy Fuck! My pussy
immediately starts to ache for him. His eyes go dark and nostrils
flare, then he groans, “Had a lot of women spread for me, but none
tasted as sweet as you.” Oh my God! I want him between my legs,
NOW!