It forces me to think about myself some. She’s right. I have hidden a lot of myself behind my mask as The Boss. But that’s part of me as well. I’m not some melodramatic character from a movie, itching to let go of my position in order to retire to a quiet life. But I do want to be able to do . . . more.
She smiles. “Okay, let’s rewind to where we started. Tell me something that made you smile.”
She’s giving me an opportunity for lightness, recognizing that I’m uncomfortable with the unusual plumbing of the depths of my soul, my past, and my psyche. But telling her things doesn’t feel like exposing a weakness. It feels like bringing her into my mind, my heart, my past, present, and future.
I purposefully frown, screwing my face up like I’m thinking hard to even remember. “Ah, I did smile the time I put Don Rivaldi in his place for trying to start a coup in my town. That was entertaining.”
She laughs, semi-familiar with the incidents surrounding Don Rivaldi since it involved her bestie, Maggie. “An evil genius grin isn’t the same thing as a smile. Try again.”
I think back further, looking in my mental archives for what she’s asking, and then I remember. “When I beat my father at chess for the first time.”
“Ooh, that’s better,” Allie says. “Tell me!” she squeals, wiggling in her seat a bit like an excited puppy.
The echo of the smile from my youth ghosts across my face as I tell her the story. “My dad and I used to play chess after dinner every chance we could. It was our thing. He’d talk and impart wisdom. I didn’t realize at the time that he was grooming me to take over. I just thought he was sharing about his day with me. Edited versions, but sharing nonetheless.”
I think back to those nights in my father’s study. He had a classic study, all leather and oak, and the chess board had its own special table. The pieces were carved stone, obsidian and marble, the board inlaid with gold. It felt like a special board, a magic talisman to teach me wisdom. Maybe it did.
“We’d play, and he always won. I read books about chess strategies from the masters, learned different plays to counter his moves, all so I could be better. It felt like if I could win against the greatest man I knew, then I’d have really accomplished something. But whatever I did, I couldn’t beat him.
“One night when I was fourteen, I finally did it. I was so stupidly arrogant about it too, downright cocky as I strutted around with a big smile on my face and told Mom all about my win.
“But when I looked at Father, that was when I really smiled. He was so proud of me, not mad that he’d lost to a kid but proud that we’d both played our best and I’d come out on top. It took me a long time to realize how prophetic that was. I try to make sure he would always still be proud of me.”
She reaches up to run her fingers through my hair, her nails scratching my scalp deliciously. “I’m sure he would be. You’re quite a man, Dominick Angeline.”
Her words elicit a truly genuine smile from me, wide and as unrestrained as she is. “Do you play chess?”
Her laugh is infectious. “Normally, I’d say yes, but I’m afraid you’re gonna wipe the board with me in five moves.”
I chuckle, standing up. “I’ll take it easy on you,” I vow, taking her hand and leading her to my office, where my father’s chess board rests on a side table between two chairs. It’s just as it always has been, right down to the chipped bishop on the obsidian side, a product of my over-eagerness when I was seven. “It’s a game of kings . . . and their queens.”
She settles in the plush armchair, crossing her legs in front of her like a child, but there is nothing innocent in the way she looks up at me, her voice sultry and her intent clear.
“Maybe I like it when you don’t go easy on me.”
She’s not talking about chess anymore. I let a bit of growl into my voice, challenging her. “Maybe we’ll make this a win in three moves then, so we can see just how not-easy you like it.”
She rises to the bait, planting her feet cutely on the floor. “Challenge accepted.”
I settle down behind the board, looking across at her. “Ladies first.”
Allie grins, resting her chin in her palm “Mmm, giving me the advantage? Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you? What if I’m actually sandbagging you?”
“I’ll take the risk,” I reply, getting into the game as we each make our opening moves. I’ll admit that my competitiveness almost immediately kicks in, but I’m enjoying playing the game with her.
She’s good, but it’s an uneven match. Still, I find myself making moves to prolong the game, but she calls me on it the second time I pass up a chance at checkmate.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to let me win. But that can’t be. So maybe it’s that you want to play longer?” She lifts one eyebrow teasingly, and I hum, but Allie isn’t having any of that. “Too bad. I had other thoughts on ways we could play, ones that don’t involve chess.”
Her voice promises all types of heat, and it’s a distraction move that I’ve never had used on me before. I sit back in my chair, deciding on my strategy for her more than the game as I eye her.
Ever the impulsive one, she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, unceremoniously exposing her body to me, perfection in the flesh. With a smirk, she leans back, her breasts rising proudly from her chest.
“Your move.”
I force myself to wait one second, not letting her have the upper hand before I stand, lifting the board and table out of the way in one smooth movement, and then I’m on her, her chair scooting back a few inches from my power. I shove her legs open, her knees resting over the arms of the chair and her pussy spread wide for me.
So pretty, so pink, so . . . mine.
Slowly, I sink to my knees in front of her, making her wait and watch every inch that I get closer to her center. I can see the pulse at her throat fluttering, giving away her façade of patience, but that’s okay because I’m not patient anymore either.
I need her again, her taste on my tongue, my name on her lips, her wild abandon as she comes for me. I nibble at her inner thigh, drawing a groan of desire from her throat.
I’ve resisted tasting her, waiting for this moment when she would be spread out, offered to me without hesitation. I want to look in her eyes as we see each other’s reaction to the first touch, and it’s magic as I lick along her pussy, so sweet and feminine. Immediately, I suck on her bud, fluttering my tongue over it, and her hands weave into my hair, holding me there in a silent demand for more.
I tease her, savoring her lips and sipping on her sweet, tangy wine before sliding two fingers inside her, rubbing along her front wall and finding the rough spot that I know drives her wild when I coordinate strokes of it and flicks of my tongue on her clit.
“Oh, fuck, Dominick, right there, yes,” she moans with each breathy exhale.
I give her a few strokes, watching as she takes my fingers over and over inside her and enjoying the glistening evidence of her arousal.
“So perfect, Allison. You said you didn’t want me to go easy on you. Is that still true?” I ask, knowing that my ‘soft’ tongue is harder for her to handle than even the fiercest assault on her pussy.
She cries out, begging for me, and I lift up on my knees, getting a better angle to dominate her. I slide my free hand up to cup her neck, not putting choking pressure but letting her know that I’m there and that she shouldn’t move or fight back.
She bites her lip, but I can see the pleading agreement in her eyes. I fingerfuck her hard, slamming into her with power and using my thumb along her clit when I have the opportunity.
“That’s it, take it hard, love. You can handle it, handle me. I want this pussy to know who it belongs to with every step you take tomorrow.”
She’s getting close, I can feel her walls swelling and clenching, and her eyes flutter closed. I pause, my thumb resting on her pulsing clit but not moving at all, drawing it out until she opens her eyes to look at me i
n silent pleading.
“Say it, Allie. Whose pussy is this? Tell me as you come all over my fingers.”
She groans a guttural sound, more primal than I’ve ever heard from her before, and that I pulled that noise from her makes my cock throb in my sweats. She whispers, her voice almost lost from her repeated pleas.
“Yours . . . it’s yours, Dominick.”
I stroke her clit once more, and her back arches so hard I can hear her spine crackle like fireworks, her breath catching as shudders grip her muscles, her pussy quivering. I ride her through every wave, drawing every last drop of pleasure from her with softening strokes until she can’t breathe, and I tenderly squeeze her throat.
“Stay just like that.”
She freezes as I withdraw and pull my sweats down, my rock-hard cock already weeping a joyous stream of precum. I swipe my fingers through her messy pussy, gathering her orgasm, and rub the sticky slickness on my shaft quickly. I jack myself with long strokes, pumping hard and fast into my fist. My tip bumps along her clit, edging her toward overstimulation, but I like the way she flinches every time I touch her.
Allie’s eyes track my every move, like she’s memorizing the way I enjoy being touched, like she’s getting off on watching me get off.
“Fuck, Dom . . . that’s so hot. Come on me.”
I’m shaking, my thighs tight with impending release, and I’m already on the edge. “I’m going to mark you outside like I marked you inside.”
She nods, though I don’t think she’s aware she does it. And with three more strokes, I grunt, my cum splashing across her mound as I come hard. A thrill rolls through me when as soon as Allie feels the heat of it, she slips a fingertip into the puddle, spreading it and rubbing it into her skin, tracing something in silent letters that I can’t quite make out. Lifting her finger, she slides it into her mouth, moaning at the flavor of me, which triggers one more jerky spasm from me that lands like an exclamation point at the top of her cleft.
Spent, I fold over her, kissing her fully, my heart pounding at the combination of our flavors on our tongues. Her lips tilt up into a smile even as we kiss, and when I pull back to look at her, I can see the devil in her eyes.
“I think we both won that game.”
She looks so damn proud of her joke, but I tell her seriously, “Love, make no mistake. You might’ve had a good game, but I certainly came out on top.”
Her laugh is all the answer I need to know I’m right.
Chapter 11
Allie
“I swear, Gavin, I’m fine. I don’t need you in here crowding the guys while they’re working,” I tell him, exasperated by his forced all-up-in-my-business jokes. At least Donna’s gotten used to him. Actually, I think she sort of thinks he’s cute in a Let me introduce you to my granddaughter kind of way.
He flashes me a wide, white smile that I’m sure gets him plenty of pussy, especially when it’s partnered with his wide, strong body and lighthearted personality.
But the gleam of his grin just annoys me even more. He shakes his head, leaning down to keep his voice quiet enough that not everyone in East Robinsville knows who I’m seeing.
“Allie, it’s cute that you think I’m leaving while you have strange men in the studio talking to you and looking you up and down. Maybe you don’t give a shit about my balls, but I’m rather attached to them and don’t want your man chopping them off anytime soon.”
I roll my eyes, laughing. “What if I promise to ask Dom to leave your balls alone? Then will you let me get some work done?”
He pales. “For fuck’s sake, do not mention my name and balls in the same sentence ever, but especially not to him unless you’re a heartless bitch. Which, to be clear, I don’t think you are.”
He sounds hopeful and not altogether sure of whether that’s true or not. I relieve his tension with a wink and pat him on the shoulder.
“Fine, but as soon as the workers are out of here, so are you. I’m here for the long haul today, deep-cleaning for my first class next week. So my evening detail can take over when I head home. Deal?”
Gavin smirks, probably relieved. “You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”
He takes my offered hand, shaking it firmly before saying, “You know I’m not agreeing to that because you said it but because that was already my assignment for the day, right?”
I growl. “Ugh. Men.”
He laughs at my pseudo-frustration, because really, I’m not all that upset about it. Gavin’s a good guy, and I don’t mind the chaperoning, but I had hopes to get the poles installed before lunch. And it’s creeping up on late afternoon now. The hours just seemed to get nibbled away this entire morning.
First it was the contractors showing up fifteen minutes late, then parts not being in the boxes, which required a trip to the hardware store . . . just one thing after another.
We could’ve just used what we had, and if I were at home, I probably would’ve. But here, everything should be up to code. Still, it’s taken forever for the contractors to install the poles.
Instead of getting frustrated, I go back to doing prep work around the room, setting up a small area in the corner with hooks where clients can store their jackets and coverups and a bench where they can sit down to change out of street shoes. Eventually, I figure some of the girls will be rocking the stage stilettos, but it might take a little while for some of them to really get into the flow.
I add a throw pillow with big tassels that says You are Amazing in gold lamé lettering on a soft pink background to the bench. It’s perfect, a motto for every woman, every class, every day.
I’m just making sure I’ve got my playlist ready when I hear a voice behind me. “Ma’am?”
I look up to see the head crewman, Mr. Bayer, looking at me. He’s middle-aged, with a bit of a beer gut that’s mostly hidden by the stained Eagles T-shirt he’s wearing. He’s got his assistant with him, a younger guy who’s probably learning the ropes.
“Yes? You all done?”
He nods, but I can see the gleam in his eyes as he looks me up and down. “Yeah, but the poles need a, uh, uhm . . . test run. Just to be on the safe side.”
He says it with a hint of sleaze to his tone. It’s one I’ve heard before. I lift one eyebrow, my eyes narrowing as he makes me feel dirty, like I should just hop up on the pole and put on a show for him. As if it’s only natural because he did me a favor by installing the poles.
Except it’s not a favor. I fucking hired him to do a job and he did it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Planting my hands on my hips, I glare at him until he starts to fidget, and only then do I speak.
“Then I’d guess you’d better hop on up there and try those poles out since that’s what I’m paying you to do. Make sure they’re all nice and secure. I’d hate for someone to get hurt after your company did the installation, catch an insurance claim or something.”
He shrinks a bit and walks off, but under his breath, I can hear him mutter, “Not like I can’t see it any time I want to at the club.”
I take a breath, balling my indignation into a missile and taking aim. “Hey, Mr. Bayer?”
He turns around, a sour look on his face. “Not anymore. Consider yourself banned, from here and from Petals. Drop off your invoice at the front desk on your way out.”
The raised voices get Gavin’s attention, and a few seconds later, he’s in the doorway, filling the whole thing as his shoulders brush from wood to wood.
“What’s going on, Allie?”
There’s a moment of anticipation where I wonder if this is about to get ugly. Gavin’s pretty easygoing, but he’s one of Dom’s guys for a reason. And even if these two contractors have hammers in their tool belts, things probably wouldn’t go very well for them.
Bayer looks over, realizing that yes, he just fucked up. He quivers, and I decide to let him off the hook, but my voice is hard.
“Everything’s fine. Mr. Bayer was just packing up his things. Please make sure that h
e leaves safely . . . and that he understands he’s persona non grata here and at the club.”
Gavin’s eyes narrow and his chest puffs a bit, making him look even broader, and his rumbling growl could make a lion piss his fur. “That sounds like a problem to me.”
Mr. Bayer turns to Gavin, looking outraged that someone’s violating the ‘bro code’ or something. “You just gonna let a whore like that make rules for the best titty bar in town? Bitch is just a piece of ass, showing off for money.”
I suppose I should have a thick skin after the length of time I’ve been dancing. I get it, my performances are about sexual fantasy. And I’d love to say that his words wash over me like they’re nothing, but whore is just one insult that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. There’s a line for me, one that maybe some people don’t recognize or don’t respect, but it’s there, big and bold. Why do some people think that just because I’m a dancer, I’m hopping on every dick that walks by?
But I do gasp, just a little, as my jaw drops in fury. Bayer’s assistant even has the good sense to look chagrined at his boss’s gross assessment, and he backs up a step. It maybe saves him a beating as Gavin steps forward, his patience gone.
“Time to go, asshole,” he says, grabbing Bayer by the collar and jerking him forward. “And if she says you’re out, you’re out. If she decides to not be so fucking graciously nice and says you’re dead, you won’t live to see another sunrise. So I’d suggest you get the fuck out before I start asking her for permission. Hell, another minute and I might even ask for forgiveness instead of permission.”
Bayer stumbles forward, looking desperately at me in some pathetic plea for help as Gavin half-drags him toward the door. I have no pity on him, though. It’s what he deserves for thinking that I would happily put on a private thank-you show for a skeevy, gross misogynist like him.
His assistant gulps down his fear and grabs the tool box, casting nervous glances at me as he scrambles out the door, almost bowing as he leaves.
“Thank you!”
Dirty Secrets Page 12