by Score, Lucy
His groan was pained, eyes glued to my breasts. I felt his erection flex under me.
“Why are you here, Dom?” I breathed, leaning in and nipping at his ear.
The song. The dark. His mouth so close to mine. It was intoxicating.
“Because I can’t fucking leave you alone.” His breath was labored.
My heart rate was through the roof. My hormones careening through my system, making demands I couldn’t meet.
“Why?”
I couldn’t help myself. I swooped in and bit his lower lip, hard.
He growled, an unholy, inhuman sound, and I realized I’d finally pushed the man too far.
Those big hands of his released their grip on the cushion, and then his meaty fingers were sinking into my hips. He yanked me down against him. His erection spearing between my legs.
“I have no fucking control around you.” To prove his point, he thrust against me.
“From where I sit, your control has been annoyingly admirable,” I whispered breathlessly, gyrating against him. The song was reaching its crescendo, and it was now or never. As much as I regretted this entire night, I wasn’t willing to add one more regret to it.
I shifted my hips, driving them forward, up his cock through his pants.
“Don’t fucking do it, Ally,” he warned.
But I didn’t listen, and he didn’t stop me.
“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me in your lap riding you.”
I was rocking my hips back and forth in time to the beat that I felt in my bones, in the pulse of my very empty, very needy pussy.
“Lie to me, Dom. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop right now.”
Faster and faster. I was jerking him off with my still-covered lady parts. And I wasn’t going to stop until either he said no or he was the humiliated one.
He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, burying his face between my breasts. “I hate how much I want you,” he whispered brokenly, nuzzling at the curves, nipping at the pasties. “I despise the fact that I can’t think of anything else but you.”
My breath was coming in shallow pants, and I was painfully close to an orgasm. But this wasn’t about me. This was about him. We should both have something to be ashamed about from tonight. Some dark secret to keep hidden from the light.
I ground down on him harder, faster, and pulled his face into my breasts as I rode him.
“Ally,” he rasped. “Baby.” One hand in my hair, one on my hip, he gripped hard and grunted out a low, guttural sound. He went completely rigid under me, and I didn’t know what had happened until I felt the warmth beneath me. The growing sticky wetness. He held me tight, bucking and shuddering against me, giving in to his shameful release.
“Ally,” he said again, thrusting against me. Using my body to ride out the orgasm.
I was on the edge of my own climax and held back on principle. I wasn’t going to give him that piece of me. He hadn’t earned it. And if I had a first orgasm with Dominic, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be in a strip club on amateur night.
I didn’t need champagne and candlelight, but I did need to not be paid.
He was vulnerable, powerless. I’d won.
But it felt like just another loss. Because now I only wanted him more.
I’d just made Dominic Russo, my boss, come in his pants at a strip club.
I didn’t know whether to go jump off a bridge or pat myself on the back. Maybe I’d do both. After those shots.
I decided a hasty retreat was required immediately. I slipped off his lap and out of his reach before he could reel me back in and make some crazy demand that made me think he cared.
“That’s two you owe me, Dom.”
And then I walked out.
34
Ally
Here’s a lesson, folks: Stripper shoes are impossible to run in.
I slipped out of the VIP room before Dominic could gather his wits—or a wad of tissues—and ran for the dressing room. Faith had thoughtfully left a shot of something that wasn’t tequila for me that I knocked back while trying to drag on my pants. I gave up when I tripped and fell over a pink suede ottoman. So I opted for my coat. It was long enough to cover me to my knees.
Ally. Baby. Dominic’s words as he came, as I made him come, hammered inside my head.
I’d heard a commotion outside the dressing room door and knew the shit was hitting the fan.
So I ran out the back and into the February night.
And now I was shuffle-jogging my way toward the closest bus stop wondering if I’d lose my toes to frostbite or these damn shoes.
The list of how many stupid things I’d accomplished in the last hour ran like a silent home movie in my head.
1. I’d danced semi-topless for an audience.
2. I’d said yes to a private dance.
3. I’d ridden my boss to orgasm in the VIP room of a strip club. A classy one, but still.
4. I’d panicked and run out of the club, leaving my stage money and whatever winnings behind.
5. I hadn’t stayed for my second free drink.
6. I’d placed my freaking pride ahead of my father’s well-being. I should have just swallowed my stupid pride and asked Faith for a loan.
7. I hadn’t gone with the cheerleader outfit with the cute little platform sneakers.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I whispered, my teeth chattering. The February air was so cold it burned my bare legs. I was going to top this night off with hypothermia and frostbite. Tomorrow, I could go to the nursing home and help my father pack.
Because I couldn’t stomach taking Dom’s money.
A tear formed in the corner of my eye and froze, binding the fake lashes to my lower real ones.
“Dammit.” Shivering, I swiped at it with my sleeve and only made it worse.
“Ally!” I knew that voice and I knew that tone.
Dominic Russo was mad, and he was closing in.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I chanted as I picked up the pace. I wasn’t running so much as prancing briskly.
It took him all of four seconds to catch and capture me.
He grabbed my arm and whipped me around. I had no balance and fell into him. Thank you, stripper shoes.
He held me there against him. It was my first good look at his face, and I immediately regretted peeking. He. Was. Furious.
“Take your goddamn money, Ally,” he said through clenched teeth.
“It’s your goddamn money! I don’t want a dime from you!”
“So you’re willing to dance for a stranger and take his money, but mine is tainted? That’s a murky moral ground, Ally.”
“Fuck you, Dominic.”
I tried to step around him on the sidewalk, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands held tight on my arms, making it clear I wasn’t slipping away from this conversation.
He was so angry and something else too. I saw it in those unfairly beautiful blue eyes. Hurt. I’d hurt Dominic Russo.
I’d wanted to hurt him. I’d wanted him to feel as ashamed as I felt. But there was no victory here. Just another defeat.
“Educate me,” he said coldly. “Tell me why you’d take money from a stranger but not me.”
“Because I don’t have feelings for a stranger, you stupid, stubborn asshole!”
Great. Now both eyes were freezing with tears that this dumbass didn’t deserve. That was the worst part. I had stupid feelings for a stupid man who was too stupid to be anything but disgusted by his attraction to me.
Dominic looked stunned.
His grip loosened on me, and I took advantage by stomping my stiletto into his foot and wrenching free. I took off at a slightly faster prance.
Nothing said pathetic like a clothing-optional dancer running down a dark street after amateur night. My life had reached a new low.
I didn’t even hear him coming. The thunder of my heartbeat drowned out everything else as I tottered for my life. Away from the man who made me feel things whe
n I had no business or time to feel anything.
Hands caught me, stopping me in my tracks, and then pushed me up against the brick of a building. A church. Oh, how appropriate. He pinned me there with his hips, crowding me. I was trapped between a building and my furious boss.
Jesus—sorry, church—cheese and crackers, the man was still hard. Maybe it was just his natural state. His pants were still wet from the orgasm I’d given him.
“If you think I’m going to let you wait for a bus or a train wearing nothing but a coat and a thong at this time of night, then you’re the stupid, stubborn asshole,” he growled.
I said nothing. Dom was vibrating with rage. And, for once, I felt like we were both on the same page.
“Why do you even care? I don’t get you. I don’t get this. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
He clamped a hand over my mouth. “I would love nothing more than to leave you alone. But I don’t know how. So this is what is going to happen. You’re going to get in my car, and I’m going to drive you home. And then we’re going to have a long talk.” Every word sounded like a threat.
My insolent eye-roll was apparently not the response he was looking for. He gave me a little shake and then undermined it by rubbing his hands up and down my arms. Once again, mixed messages from Prince Charming.
“Do you understand?” he asked with a frigid calm. “I’ll stand out here as long as it takes the come to freeze my balls to my dick if that’s what it takes.”
Heh. He had to be pretty uncomfortable running around with that in his pants.
I nodded slowly but let my watery, half-frozen eyes telegraph “I hate you” loud and clear.
He hauled me the block and a half to his car, a sinister-looking Range Rover, and shoved me into the passenger seat. I wondered if I was leaving a trail of body glitter behind me like I was a Questionable Life Choices Tinkerbell. When I shivered on the leather, he pinned me with a glare and stripped out of his coat. “Here,” he said, spreading it over me, tucking it in under my legs. “And if you even think about running again, I will make you regret it.”
Running was out of the question, so I waited while he rounded the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel.
“Am I fired? Or are you taking me somewhere to murder me?” I asked.
“I haven’t decided,” he said, stabbing the button for my seat warmer. The leather beneath me heated instantly, and I shifted the coats to protect my practically exposed hoo-ha.
Those were the only words spoken during the drive. Until I realized we weren’t heading toward New Jersey.
“Where are you taking me?”
The monosyllabic answer was delivered on a growl. “Home.”
35
Dominic
I was a dirtbag of the highest order. I’d basically abducted an employee with the intent of holding her prisoner until she finally told me what the hell was going on. But I was too full of righteous anger to care about the consequences.
Ally was glued to the passenger side window, as far away from me as possible. I snagged an open parking spot just down the block and shut off the engine. She swung away from the window and glared at me, her jaw set in a tight line.
The fact that she was pissed off at me pissed me off even more.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m the one who’s mad,” I said, stabbing my thumb in my chest. “We don’t get to both be mad.”
“You kidnapped me!”
“You’re an adult. It’s called abduction. And you tried to turn my foot into a kebab with your footwear weaponry,” I snapped, getting out of the car. Stubbornly, she stayed put inside until I yanked her door open. “Out. Now.”
“Where are we?” she asked, still not moving.
I half pulled, half dragged her off the seat and held her steady when she wobbled on those ridiculous heels.
“My neighborhood.”
She swung her head around. “Where are the soulless skyscrapers and creepy dungeons? This is a neighborhood. You know, where actual people live.”
“Very funny.” I took her arm and none too gently propelled her down the sidewalk.
“If you seriously live here, your neighbors are going to think you brought a prostitute home,” she hissed. She looked more concerned about my reputation than hers.
I realized then that I was never going to understand this woman.
She was limping now, and I was torn between parading her around the block a few times so she’d learn her lesson and getting her inside as quickly as possible.
She tripped and yelped and made the decision for me. I scooped her up in my arms and marched toward my townhouse. She went completely rigid against me. “You can’t carry me around like a bride,” she insisted.
“Yeah, well, a few hours ago, I would have said you couldn’t jack me off in a strip club. I guess we’re both wrong.”
I took the steps to my front door and set her down more gently than I felt like doing.
Patting my pockets for my keys, I realized they were in my coat. I shoved my hands in her pockets. “Hey! No touching,” Ally snapped.
“I think it’s a little late for that,” I said dryly.
“Bite me.”
I found the keys and unlocked the door and pulled her into the foyer vestibule room thing that my real estate agent had been so excited about when I bought the place five years ago. “You can leave at any time, but if you try to go before we’re done talking, I’ll just keep bringing you back,” I warned her.
“This is beyond fucked up,” she said, crossing her arms. My coat billowed around her like a cape, enveloping her. She was raining body glitter on the black and white tile. Hell. So was I. The cleaning crew was going to think I’d either hosted a Girl Scouts craft jamboree or an orgy.
“At least we both agree on that.” I took my coat off her and hung it in the closet. I left her coat on, knowing there was very little beneath it.
There was a sad whine coming from behind the main door.
“Is that another exotic dancer you kidnapped?” she snipped.
“I’m starting a harem,” I said and then opened the door.
Sixty pounds of chocolate lab rocketed into my arms. Brownie—hey, he came with the name, okay?—and I were still getting to know each other, and I was still trying to figure out dog discipline.
“Oh my God, you kidnapped a dog too.”
I put Brownie down and gave him a full-body scruffing before smushing his face and kissing the top of his head. This was the best unanticipated part of spontaneously adopting a dog. The greeting after a long day. Brownie didn’t care if I abducted an employee. He still loved me.
“I didn’t kidnap him, idiot. I adopted him.”
My dog trotted over to her, oblivious to the tension. He wagged his tail and gave a happy bark.
“Shut up, Brownie. It’s after one a.m. You’ll wake the neighbors.”
Ally sank down to greet him.
“Who’s the most handsome boy in the world? Did you get adopted? Did you?”
His tail was a blur of happiness.
“Come on,” I said, gesturing toward the main door. “And take off those stupid shoes.”
“Fine. But I’m only doing it because I think I lost a few toenails, not because you told me,” she said. Her groan when she slipped them off was sinful enough that the situation in my pants became a more complicated matter.
I kept my shoes on—in case she tried to make a barefoot run for it—and headed into the house.
Either curiosity or the need to finally hash this all out propelled her in behind me.
“Wow,” she said.
“What?”
She gestured around the hall, the stairs. Off to the right was a den with a fireplace and wood-paneled walls. “I didn’t expect this. I just assumed you lived in some…”
“Soulless high-rise with a dungeon?”
She shrugged.
“Yeah, well, I assumed you were financially responsible enough to not have to take your c
lothes off for strangers,” I shot back.
“Why do you even care, Dom? I don’t understand. I mean, talk about mixed messages. You say you don’t want me—”
“Correction. I don’t want to want you.”
“You are such an ass. You don’t want to want me, yet you eavesdrop on a private call, follow me to a strip club, and hire me to do a private dance. And then get so angry you abduct me and take me home with you.”
“Wrong. I was angry before I got to the club,” I shot back.
“I’m not yours to care about, Dom.”
I snapped my fingers for Brownie, and he followed me into the kitchen.
Ally came along at a more leisurely pace. I fished out a treat from the puppy jar Greta got me and made Brownie sit. It was the one command we’d both mastered. “Take it nicely, buddy. Do not take my hand off,” I said, holding the paw-shaped cookie high.
But Brownie had that single-minded gleam in his eye. He nearly swallowed my entire hand. “Okay, we need to work on that.”
Ally sighed like a good little martyr and stomped over to the jar. “Here,” she said. She demonstrated holding the treat in a closed fist with part of it peeking out over her thumb. “Sit,” she told Brownie.
He plopped his ass on the floor, thrilled at the prospect of two cookies.
“Nicely,” Ally warned him. When he made an excited alligator lunge, she pulled back. “Uh-uh. Nice boy.”
This time, she held her hand out, and Brownie carefully extracted the treat from her fist.
“Good boy!” she cheered. Brownie snarfed it down and dissolved into happy wiggles at the praise. She turned back to me smugly. “What? I had dogs growing up. I’d offer to help you with him, but I hate you.”
Yes. There was that.
“Come on,” I said wearily.
“Where?”
“Upstairs so I can get out of these fucking pants.”
“We’re not having sex,” she said, looking appalled.