“No, I don’t mean ‘Any questions?’ because I don’t care if you have any or what they might be. All I care about is you getting your ass back in there and fulfilling your job requirements.” Jake had just morphed from seething livid to calm livid, and that was just as, if not more, intimidating. Hearing those words come out in a calm manner from a person with a collected face was as scary as any horror movie I’d ever shrieked through.
I went back to chewing the inside of my cheek as I worked up a reply that wouldn’t send him straight over the edge again.
“Is there a reason you’re still standing here? Doing nothing?” Jake asked, waving at me. “Oh, wait. That’s right. You’ve been doing that all night.”
“Listen, Jake,” I said, cutting him off before he got going. “It’s just . . . Will. I mean Mr. Goods. I’m not sure I can do this”—I tilted my head at the door—“with him again.”
“And why might that be? Because in terms of guys you’re going to run across here, Mr. Goods wins the knight-in-shining-armor prize by a landslide.” Jake shook his head. “Or have you already gotten so used to the regular brand of slime that a good guy actually makes you uncomfortable?”
No, a good guy didn’t make me uncomfortable, but one named Will Goods did. I had yet to decide if, inside The Body Shop, Will was as good a guy as he seemed outside it. That was one giant T.B.D.
“It’s just . . .” The right words were difficult to find. Once I’d found them, I had to tailor them to make them boss-approved. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose and uttered a few colorful phrases before shaking it all off and marching down the hall. “Fine. I’ll get another dancer to take care of Mr. Goods. Hopefully one he’ll approve of.”
My next response wasn’t thought out. It wasn’t carefully constructed—it was all instinctual. “No! Don’t get another dancer. I can do it.” When my conscious caught up to what my subconscious had just done, I sighed. “I can do this.”
Jake slowed, but he didn’t stop. “Sorry if your lackluster confidence isn’t wowing me. Now if you’re done being a prima donna, I’ve got another dancer to find. I think Amber should be up to the task of helping Mr. Goods.”
That didn’t just get my attention. That got me angry. And feeling every kind of territorial. I didn’t just march down the hall after Jake; I ran. Once I’d caught up to him, I grabbed his arm and spun him around. I couldn’t tell who looked more shocked by my sudden burst of piss and vinegar.
“I’ve got this. He came in for me, he gets me.” This time, my voice wasn’t washy with doubt and my eyes weren’t narrowed in uncertainty.
Jake studied me for a few seconds. He stared a few seconds longer. Then he turned and headed down the rest of the hall. He wasn’t marching like a man on a mission anymore. “Fine. One more chance to get it right. If I catch you screwing up again, you’re gone, Noelle. Any questions?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “‘Any questions?’ You really do care, don’t you?”
When Jake looked over his shoulder, I saw the part-devious, all-business expression I was used to seeing. “Don’t tell.”
I didn’t wait for him to disappear into the club. I didn’t give myself a few seconds to collect my thoughts. I knew what I needed to do, and I was resolved. Only minutes ago, I’d thought that I couldn’t handle Will and me and this place . . . and then Jake had mentioned bringing in another girl. That had changed my mind entirely. If it was a choice between me being conflicted about Will and me and him having another girl with him, I could deal with feeling conflicted. Another girl touching him and doing all of the things I wanted to do with him again, I couldn’t handle. So I had my answer. Something inside me—a significant piece—liked Will Goods. I liked him enough to feel territorial and protective. Somewhere inside me, I was so attracted to him that the desire I felt for him seemed to be the only thing driving me.
As I slid back inside the V.I.P. room, I realized I didn’t have to try to reconcile the Will I knew in this room and the Will I knew outside it. In this place, where fantasy and illusion were reality, he could be whoever he wanted to. The silver lining? So could I. I could be whoever I wanted to be and do the things I wanted to. I didn’t have to feel guilt or confusion or anger. I could give myself over to the attraction and desire that dominated me when I was with Will as long as we were locked inside this room. If he was fine keeping our two relationships in separate corners, I was too. If he wanted to experience the attraction we shared without awkwardness the next day, that would be the cherry on top.
No rules. No limits. No reality. Fantasy. Illusion. Desire.
I was giving myself over to them—for once in my life.
This time when I approached him, I didn’t swing wide and put as much distance between us as the room would allow. I swung my leg over him and collapsed onto his lap before he’d even realized I was back in the room. Will’s gasp of surprise was silenced by my mouth crushing into his. His hands took about as long as mine did to find spots to attach to, and unlike last week, he was as clearly not holding back anymore.
Whatever restraints we’d formed last week, we’d broken free of this week. Instead of hesitancy lacing the rhythm of our movements, urgency became the beat, guiding us to the chorus. What that chorus was or where it led to, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that there was nothing more important to me right now than being with Will. I wasn’t sure who’d been the first to lower their inhibitions or if it was a combined effort, but the instant our bodies connected, we became a joined entity. Though my movements weren’t planned, nor were his, we moved in sync.
Will’s hands didn’t stop mine when I slipped the straps of my dress from my shoulders. His hands didn’t stop me when I pulled the dress down past my chest. He didn’t stop me when I guided his hands to my chest, and once they were there, his hands didn’t stop touching me in ways that made it difficult for me to decide if I needed to gasp or moan . . . so I went with both.
When I reached for the hem of his shirt and gave it a swift tug, Will’s hand stopped me. His fingers wound around my wrists again, holding them just tightly enough that I couldn’t finish de-shirting him, but not so tight that it was painful. His mouth escaped from mine and rested just outside my ear. His breath was racing. Mine was even more so. The breath rushing from his mouth heated my neck right before the breath he sucked in cooled the same patch of skin.
After a few cycles of that, I broke out in goose bumps. I wanted to touch him, but my hands were in his grasp. I wanted to kiss him, but his mouth was just out of my reach. He was in control, and while it wasn’t apparent just how much he wanted that to register with me, it didn’t change the fact that he could do whatever he wanted to do to me. I’d be powerless to stop it. With the realistic Liv taking a hiatus, that realization made the area below my stomach quicken.
“Tonight isn’t about me,” he said at last, his voice rough. Ragged. “It’s about you.”
Yet another quickening in the aforementioned area.
Before I could say anything—before I could think anything—Will stood and released my wrists just long enough to wind my legs around his torso. As soon as I was secured to him, he moved for the chaise tucked into the corner of the room. His mouth was still near my neck, so I arched it, hoping he’d take my suggestion.
He did. Will’s lips pressed into the side of my neck, sucking ever so gently on a small patch of skin before moving to another. It was just as sensual as it was sweet, and before we’d made it the short distance to the chaise, I’d tilted my head all the way back to give him better access. My fingers were tangling in his hair when he lowered me onto the chaise. As soon as I was flat on my back, he moved away, but since my legs were still wrapped around him . . . I was the one in control.
Winding my legs tighter around his torso, I pulled him back down until his mouth was where I wanted it—on mine. My tongue moved past his lips, exploring his mouth like I wanted to explore his body.
My hands moved for the zipper on his pants. My fingers hadn’t even found the zipper pull before Will made a sharp, sudden move, and once again, my hands were captive in his. Throwing both of my arms above my head, he stacked my wrists one over the other and held them there.
His mouth returned to my ear, but instead of ragged, his voice was strong. “Tonight’s for you. Not me.”
I rocked my hips hard into his as a reflex. I was fairly certain I couldn’t form words, let alone coherent sentences. “You . . . when?” My voice sounded like someone else’s.
I wasn’t receiving any medals for sparkling conversation, but I counted my lucky stars that I was able to pair one word with another in a moderately cohesive way. His mouth wasn’t quite pressed into my neck, but I could almost feel a slow smile moving into place.
“Later,” was his answer.
Every word out of his mouth ignited something inside me—the way his chest rattled against mine as he spoke, the way his words were as confident as I was pretending to be, the way they made me feel. God, it was powerful stuff, and it became physically painful to have something my body craved that badly so close but still so far away.
Tired of waiting for his next move, I tilted my head until my lips smoothed up his jawline to the apex of his chin. They moved into position over his mouth. He kissed me back, as slowly and purposefully as he’d been urgent and reckless a few minutes ago. Had I been asked, I wouldn’t have hesitated in answering that the way he’d kissed me over in that chair had been the best way a girl could ever be kissed. But now . . . with his lips sucking and smoothing along mine in slow, deep pulls . . . damn, I’d just found a new favorite.
His mouth slowed even more before it pulled back. Right as I was about to cry out in disappointment, he sucked on my earlobe. Not nearly as gently as he’d been with the skin covering my neck. I gasped and arched my back in an attempt to be closer to him. More connected to him. More something to him.
He released my earlobe, and one of his hands slid down my arm and around my collarbone until it curved into my chest. He wasn’t gentle when he squeezed my breast, and when his fingers captured my nipple and tugged, it wasn’t anywhere close to gentle.
He nuzzled my neck, and his mouth moved to my ear. “I want to kiss you somewhere else.”
He could have been referring to any of a thousand places, but I didn’t need to ask exactly which place he meant. It was the same place that felt close to falling apart from just his words. The only answer I was capable of giving him was a nod.
He dropped one final kiss on my mouth before releasing my wrists and moving down my body. He moved slowly, warming a trail down the center of my breasts, past my belly button, until he stopped just above the hem of my panties. The sheer material of my dress made it feel as though every breath he took was breathed against my bare skin. When I broke out in goose bumps from him warming and cooling my skin, he mercifully leaned back far enough to give me some relief.
Although where he touched me next did little to relieve anything. At least not in a calming kind of way. In terms of relieving the fire building inside me, he’d definitely accomplished that. Will’s fingers skimmed up the center of my panties before his knuckles made the return journey. I sank my teeth into my lower lip and tried to keep from panting out loud. The lightest of touches, applied through a layer of fabric, was bringing me close to climax . . . and I’d never been one of those girls who could practically come on command. With Blake, I’d sometimes not come at all, but usually very mediocrely. Will’s barely-there touch had already outdone every orgasm I’d had with Blake. God, and he’d barely touched me there yet. And my panties were still on. And all of his clothes were still on.
Why in the world was I spending so much time analyzing this and bringing up Blake while a certified sex god was pulling my panties down with his thumbs? Exactly. Time to shut off the mind—all of it—and let my body take over.
When Will slipped my legs through my panties, he slid off my shoes as well. Then he wrapped my legs around him and crossed my ankles behind his neck. I felt him slide my dress up until all of it was gathered at my waist, but I didn’t watch him do any of that. Somewhere between his gentle graze through my panties and them being removed, his touch alone had become too much to handle. The added sensory load of watching him would have put me into overdrive. So I’d closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and kept my teeth buried in my lip.
When his hand covered me, slipping along the wet area, I felt an objection rising on my lips. I’d been in such a state of careless abandon that I’d let my traitor mind slip back into my present. I was in the process of shoving my thoughts back where they belonged—behind locked doors—when Will’s fingers spread me aside, and I felt his . . . oh, God . . . on me. All thoughts of, considerations for, or attempts and failures to lock away my dreaded realist were forgotten the instant Will’s mouth covered me. From the feel of it, I didn’t even have a brain anymore. Or if I did, it had simply moved south, because every movement I made, every sound I sighed, and every fragment of a thought I had came from the place where Will Goods was redefining the whole world for me.
When his tongue slid out and touched the place where all my pain and pleasure originated from, I knew if he kept it there for a moment longer, I would be deep in the middle of the best orgasm of my life. But it was like he knew that as well, so instead of keeping his tongue pressed to that spot, he pulled back just enough that I emitted a tortured groan.
Before I was done making my vocal show of disapproval, he blew cool air on that same spot, and I was back to arching my back and curling my fingers deep into the chaise. Even though I knew Will liked this game—being in control, assuring each drop of pleasure I felt was directly tied to his will to bestow it—I really couldn’t take any more. This night, this week, this month with the on-again, off-again roller coaster between Will and me had drained me. His hands on me, his mouth on me were all restoring those depletion levels, and I wouldn’t let him string me along all night before I reached the release I’d been desperate for since the moment he’d touched me. The control freak in him be damned.
Rolling my shoulders, I wove my fingers through his hair and tugged him back in. His groan from either being turned on by me taking control or him being disgruntled about losing control vibrated against me, and I was right back to standing on that ledge. My toes were curled around it, ready to take that leap and enjoy the weightlessness of the fall.
Will’s fingers drilled into my hips as he swiftly pulled me down the chaise until my backside was nearly hanging off it. “Show me how you want it,” he demanded, his voice back to its gravelly tenor.
I wasn’t sure I cared, so long as he didn’t stop, but since he’d willingly handed the control baton to me, I would run with it. Untangling my legs from behind his neck, I planted my feet on the floor and sat up until I was looking at his head buried between my legs . . . which instantly reminded me why I needed to keep my eyes closed. Fisting my hands in his hair, I spread my legs wider to give him better access and encouraged him closer. He followed my every silent demand like the most willing and eager of students, and when his fingers slid me apart again, his tongue instantly found the spot I needed him to find. He made several lazy circles around it until I was back in the hyperventilation zone.
“Yes . . .” I breathed, pulling him closer.
His tempo picked up, and then his finger slipped inside me. When I tightened around it, he let out a long groan, vibrating the area around his mouth. His finger moved deeper inside me before sliding out. He repeated, the whole time moving his mouth against me. His tongue continued its gentle assault.
“More . . .” I whispered in the middle of a deep moan.
As before, he was quick and eager to respond. He slipped another finger inside me as he picked up his pace, his mouth doing the same. He slowly sucked on the sensitive part that had literally developed its own heartbeat in the midst of him doing the things he did to it. My head fell back, and I pressed him ti
ghter to me still. As close as he was, as intimate as he was being with me, I still wanted him closer.
“More . . .” I ordered, my voice no longer wobbling. I felt my climax building, and I’d let nothing get in the way of me experiencing it.
Will gave me just that. When his tongue lashed across me, I felt the rush of sweet release. I jumped off that ledge. I leapt off of it, happily and of my own accord. For once, my relationship with Will wasn’t complicated. It was so very simple. I wanted him, I was letting him have me, and I was enjoying it.
I didn’t know what I said or what I did in the midst of it, because it took everything I had just to stay conscious. The sensation ripped my body apart, starting from the very place Will’s mouth was covering and spreading to every nerve ending in my body. Time was lost, but when I finally came back from whatever euphoric, other-worldly place I’d just been, my legs were quivering and my breath was coming in hard pulls. I was still upright, but that ended quickly. When I collapsed back against the chaise, I finally opened my eyes, loosened my death grip on Will, and felt something creep into place—something that was genuine and unbridled and seemingly unending. A smile.
Only when my body had stopped trembling did Will release my hips and stand. When he came around the side of the chaise, I was still smiling. When he stopped just behind me before fitting his hands on either side of my head, I was still smiling. As he lowered his face to mine, pressing his lips to my forehead in a tender kiss, I was still smiling. When he tilted my head and whispered Thank you into my ear, my smile spread. All I could think was that I should be the one saying that to him.
He slowly made his way out of the room. When my mind was still clear and no signs of regret or doubt had charged back to the surface minutes after Will had left, that smile I’d managed to keep in place widened yet again. I could do it. I could have Will Goods this way. Waving farewell to reality and letting instinct and impulse drive me had been the answer all along. At The Body Shop, I could enjoy Will the way I wanted to. Outside, I still couldn’t and I never could, but here . . . the way we’d just given ourselves over to attraction . . . the way it had felt . . . even if this was the only way and place I could have him, claiming any part of Will was more than I’d ever thought I could have.
Damaged Goods Page 17