Tiebreaker: A Dark Romance (Darker Nights Book 1)

by KT Strange

  She's silent at the other end of the line, and then sounds annoyed when she finally speaks,

  “You're not going to have work for at least two weeks,” she says.

  It's almost like she expected me to say that she should sell my ticket to her friend. Irritation wells in my stomach.

  I turn around.

  It's a five minute walk to her apartment.

  I know because I've had to go pick up my paycheck there a few times when she's been late giving it to me.

  “I’ll be right there,” I say, “Don't go anywhere. I can't wait for this meet and greet. It’ll be nice to hang out with you.” The last part is a lie, but oh well.

  “But no-” she starts. And I hang up on her. Fuck that, I'm going to this thing.

  There's no way she's keeping something else from me.

  It's one final indignity that I just can't stand.

  * * *

  She’s glaring at me from the other side of the town car.

  And she shifts her weight, inching along, moving further away from me on the seat.

  So she didn't tell me that not only was this a private meet and greet with a show for Kai Brooks’ super fan club or whatever, but there was even a dress allowance.

  Like a shopping spree, like a $500 shopping spree. I was given a pre-loaded VISA gift card, and set loose in a mall.

  I got to pick out a new dress, and some shoes. And we had a town car grab us from our apartments. I spent about three hours on my makeup, trying to make the perfect cat eye and failing while Toby groomed his tail on my bed.

  In the end it required some tape and a prayer. My hands were shaking so much. I was never a big Kai Brooks fan or anything, but this… this is special. It was like we’d won a prize pack or something. I still couldn’t believe how generous he’d been with us when I’d been rude. Maybe the spunk impressed him. Maybe he had a kinked for getting yelled at by girls covered in coffee grinds. Who the hell am I to judge?

  And now we're on our way to this meet and greet. I’m trying to stop my hands from trembling because my gut is churning over and over.

  This kind of thing never happens to me. In fact, I don't think anything's really good to happen to me since I left home.

  Since I had a home.

  I mean the apartment’s my place but it's not a home. It's four walls, a bed, a bathroom, and a little kitchenette.

  That's about it.

  If Toby wasn't there it could be anyone's place.

  It's not like I've had the money to decorate.

  Mariah taps on her phone impatiently and huffs. I glance over at her, and she tilts her screen away from me, almost like she doesn’t want me to see whatever’s on it.

  “Is that it,” I ask, leaning forward as we pull up to a big venue. There’s a milling crowd of people and I swallow. Why does it look so busy?

  “Alright, normally I wouldn't say this because normally I don't spend any time with you socially, but don't fucking embarrass me,” she snaps. “Whatever happens, just… Don’t.” I open my mouth to reply, but I’m cut off as a town car rolls to a stop.

  There's a red carpet. My heart thuds in my chest, ramping up my anxiety and excitement. There’s even some press. They're standing around, looking bored, like they don't expect anyone cool to come out of my car. Which is fair. There’s nothing cool about me.

  “We're here ladies,” says the driver up front, his voice neutral. He gets out and walks around the car, opening it up.

  Mariah slips out of the car, keeping her knees together as she exits and stands. A few photographers surge forward. She holds her breath, spine straight, arms held from her sides like she’s a dancer about to make her entrance on Christmas Eve.

  But she's a nobody.

  And they realize that, quickly turning away.

  Just one or two flashes and that is it. Her fifteen seconds dying just like that.

  Somehow I'm kind of grateful that her moment in the sun is nothing in the end. It makes the tiny, mean corner of my heart glad.

  I scramble out after her and straighten my dress.

  “Is that-“ I hear somebody say a few feet from me and I look over a photographer has his camera up to his eye, and he's taking a picture. The flash goes off, blinding me.

  And I jerk backwards, and he frowns at me, realizing I’m a nobody.

  “Whoa,” I mutter, shaking the stars from my eyes, and turn to look behind me. The driver is gone and so is the car.

  “Come on,” Maria hisses at me, grabbing my arm. She yanks on my wrist hard.

  “What the fuck, ow, stop it,” I grumble under my breath as I tag along after her. The red carpet is plush and my platform heels sink into it. I shake myself free from her iron grip… but walking on the carpet is difficult. I’ve never done something this hard before. When it comes to walking, that is.

  Mariah, with a disgusted noise, she glares at me, and then she’s dragging me again up the red carpet, as I try not to stumble like a new baby deer after her.

  I'm startled when we get to the door, and the badge checker there takes one look at the two of us and then lights up when she sees me.

  “Oh, I'm so glad you can make it,” she says, “Come on in. We were waiting for you. I’ll call Jenna.”

  I glance at Mariah, alarmed and confused. She shrugs. Something is not right. The red carpet. The money for clothes? She looks nervous, and when I get close there’s sweat beading up along her hairline, making her foundation slick on her skin.

  “What aren’t you telling me,” I hiss at her under my breath.

  “Don’t make this weird,” she says, pushing me into the building. “Or I’ll make you regret not selling your ticket.”

  Inside a woman in a polished dark ponytail waits for us, a smile on her face.

  “Mariah,” she says. She seems to know Mariah on sight, and it’s setting off more little alarm bells in the back of my head.

  “I thought this was a fan meet and greet,” I say to the woman, glancing around. There’s nobody else here in the foyer, despite the crowd outside, and she nods.

  “It is, the location got leaked, so of course…” She waves a hand at the door, referencing the girls that had been standing out on the street. “The fans are already seated, all waiting, however, you,” She gives me a a megawatt smile. “I’m glad we could get you booked in.”

  Booked in…? Mariah elbows me and I straighten up with a cough. She must mean for shopping. Maybe.

  Glancing down at the dress, I open my mouth,

  “I mean, not that I'm ungrateful for the shopping spree. It was really nice, is he doing that for everyone?” I hold my breath. There can’t be many of us here then. I’ve never heard of a rockstar shelling out for someone to get new clothes for a fan meet…

  I'm not going to tell her that I kept the receipts and I am planning on returning the dress and shoes.

  I just can't afford not to. It's one thing to go to this meet and greet and turn down money from selling the ticket. But it's the second thing to turn down selling $500 worth of clothes.

  That's more than half my rent.

  And if I'm going to miss two weeks of work, I need the extra cash.

  “Oh, didn't Mariah tell you,” she says, glancing between the two of us. She's tapping her pen on the edge of her clipboard and she bobs her head, her sleek glossy hair pulled back in that tight ponytail, waving back and forth like a blag.

  “So yeah, a private,” she repeats that like it means something. “He asked for you, specifically.”

  She gives me an indulgent smile.

  “You don't think that we give every fan a $500 shopping budget do you?” She asks.

  My lips part.

  “I don't quite understand,” I say, trying to wrap my head around what’s happening.

  “Where's the bathroom,” Mariah asks suddenly.

  The woman, Jenna, gives her a flat smile and points down the hallway.

  “That way,” she says. “You'll see it. It's lit up in pink.”
>
  Mariah nods and walks off leaving me with Jenna, and the growing confusion in my belly.

  “I’m sorry. She didn't really give me a lot of details,” I say.

  Jenny gives me a sweet understanding smile.

  “Well, no doubt. Did she tell you that she wasn't supposed to come? But she wouldn't pass on your contact information unless I offered her a ticket.”

  “I… that sounds like her,” I say weakly. Jenna leans and winks.

  “Well, let’s get you to work then,” she says, “now that she’s busy.” She beckons for me to follow her and I do…

  But… work?

  Four

  Olivia

  She guides me to a hallway. We go through a large set of double doors that clang shut behind us.

  The silence that falls descends around my shoulders, and I'm surprised that there's no other fans back here. Well, she did say it was a private meet…

  The dull sound of our footsteps over carpet is muffled. And I glance behind me.

  “Is Mariah going to be able to find us?” I ask. Jenna makes a little noise under her breath.

  “I’d rather you just let me handle her,” she says, “don’t worry, you can see her after.” She gives a shrug of her shoulders.”You know you make quite an impression.” She looks over at me up and down and tilts her head to the side. “Did you shave,” she asks, startling me. Uh… what?

  That's a bit personal, that's like really personal. I had, though, with Toby watching me the entire time. And grooming himself in silent solidarity with me.

  “Is that a requirement to a meet and greet?” I ask, half-laughing. I’ve never heard of a meet and greet have grooming standards before, but it kind of makes sense, I guess some fans are smelly.

  I shrug it off. And she gives me a thin smile, one that makes me feel like I'm being evaluated. Her eyes are like lasers that sink under my skin.

  “Alright. Here you are.” She opens the door sunk into the wall in the long corridor. A room blossoms beyond it and inside it’s all shadow. There's a red lamp in one corner, and a long low couch, leather. At one end of the room, a bar sits with booze set out already.

  “Is this the where… the fans meet him?“ The question dies on my lips. It’s empty except for me and her. They’re really taking ‘private’ seriously. And I’m not even a fan. I mean, I pretty much told him to go fuck himself for being an arrogant sonuvabitch.

  Nothing like I'm sure the rest of the girls that are showing up tonight are. I’ve been listening to his new album, trying to learn the lyrics but…yeah…

  It's just kind of cool to be able to say that I've been here, that I'm doing this. Maybe I’m still secretly a 13 year old girl on the inside.

  Jenna gives me an interested look.

  “That's cute,” she says. “He'll go for that, that's a big thing for him.”

  She glances down on my hands.

  “I’m surprised you didn't bring a bag with your knickknacks and things like that. Do you need me to get you some baby wipes? There is a shower in the bathroom if you need it…” Something pings in the back of my mind, and very quickly I'm realizing that this situation is not exactly what Mariah told me it would be.

  “Uh… I…”

  She gives me another one of those brief smiles.

  “Well don't worry about it. I'll be in afterwards with whatever you might need at that point. Mouthwash is in the bathroom,” she says pointedly. With that she gives me a gentle shove in the small my back and I stumble into the room.

  What the ever loving fuck?

  The door shuts behind me. The shadowy gloom nearly swallows me whole. The weird shaky feeling inside of me that told me something was going on that I wasn't going to like has grown into full out dread. I turn around and reach for the doorknob. But there isn't one. The door is smooth, it's a one way. That's not right. There should be a fire exit.

  I glance around the room and see three other doors. One is the bathroom, I'm sure. The other two, maybe one leads to the outside. I don't know why I'm here. Actually I think I know why I'm here. And now everything makes sense. The $500 shopping spree, Mariah being so nice about it. Even though at first she was talking about selling the ticket to her friend. She never pushed me hard. She could have pushed me harder-

  The click of a door sends fear crawling up my spine.

  “Thank fuck. Hello,” a voice says, and I don't even have time to turn around. Arms encircle me, fingers spread wide and running up my thighs. The body behind me is rock hard as I'm tugged back into him.

  And he towers over me.

  Kai Brooks.

  He’s treating me like I’m his property three seconds after entering the room.

  “Wait-” I say. I’m not sure what he's been told. I’m not sure what he thinks that I'm here for.

  “I can’t,” he growls. That smoky voice. The one from the coffee shop.

  It really is him. He pins me up against the door in front of me. And I cry out my cheek pressing into the cold painted metal.

  “Just like that,” he says, “make that noise again. His fingers dig into my thighs. And I panic. But it doesn't stop the warmth from swelling up inside of me. It’s an old, familiar feeling, the same paths worn down by past lovers and it’s not just warmth, it’s heat… heat that demands satisfaction.

  “No you don't understand,” I say. He's breathing heavily into my ear and I can feel how hard he is against my ass. I reach back to push him, to claw him, to do something.

  And I snag my fingers in the soft jersey cotton of his t shirt. I tug at it weakly. For some reason my throat’s not working and all that comes out of my mouth is a pathetic little whine.

  “That's right,” he growls, “come on, make that sound again, you know I like it. She told you right, she told you I like it loud.” His hand comes up and claps over my mouth. “I want to hear you, around my fingers.” His words drop an octave. “I want to hear you as I make you come on my fingers.”

  That’s so… filthily hot. Part of me is disgusted and wants to scream at him but the overwhelming majority of me is just going with it, in a dreamy, already-aroused state that doesn’t make any sense.

  The dress is no protection at all. His thigh slips between mine, knocking my knees apart. My eyes slide shut. I shouldn't want this but I do. There's something about it that sets off a fire inside of me.

  It's so fast. And so wrong and I've not even ever said anything close to the word yes. But my hips rock back when his fingers graze over my pussy through my panties.

  And I can't help it. I moan, and he makes a noise in response like he's starving for me. It’s a low growl that rolls up his throat, vibrating against my back. His mouth finds the side of my neck.

  He shoves aside my underwear, two fingers slipping inside me with no prep and no warning.

  My body jerks and I cry out, my lips wet against the palm of his hand.

  “You're just as tight as I thought you'd be,” he says into my neck. “I thought about bending you right over that counter at the coffee shop. Fucking you're right there in front of everybody. So fucking glad you came. Now I'm gonna make you come.” His fingers over my mouth part enough for me to gasp between them. And I could tell him to stop if I wanted to, but I don't.

  My body shudders instead, waves of arousal growing as his fingers pump in and out of me. It's not two minutes before I'm soaking wet as he hooks his fingers forward, pressing them right against my G-spot.

  Before I can even catch my breath I'm coming so hard that I'm screaming. His fingers press harder into me, thumb finding my clip, and it burns, it feels so good, so intense. My legs start shaking. He bites down into my neck. Not hard enough to break the skin. But it's a move of ownership. He's saying it without saying it. I'm his.

  “That's it, baby,” he murmurs, fingers buried deep inside my pussy, cupping it with his hand, and holding me against the door. “That's what we both needed, isn't it, you to come all over my hand. I always take care of my woman,” he says, his oth
er hand leaving my mouth. And suddenly I can breathe easily. And… I can tell him. Tell him to stop.

  Instead I hear the sound of a zipper undoing and the rustle of his jeans falling around his hips.

  “I got this,” he promises me.

  Everything is reduced to pinpoint sensations.

  The crinkle of a condom wrapper. Just behind my ear. Him adjusting me against the door. The wet stroke of his hand over his cock.

  It's happening.

  The first slide of him inside me lights me up and terrifies me.

  “No, no, please,” I say; he's so big. He's stretching me to my limits. And when he gets his hands around my hips and starts thrusting his knees bracketing inside of mine, I can't speak. The only noise I make is the rush of breath over my lips as I pant, wetly.

  Oh god, oh god oh god.

  How did this happen? I shake with the thrill and shudder of him fucking me and filling me.

  He says something under his breath that I'm the best he's ever had or I'm so fucking tight or something.

  His hands start rubbing rough, tight circles on the mound of my pussy, his fingers having slipped out just before he slipped in, but he’s never stopped touching me.

  He drags his fingers through my folds, and up over my panties. They’re still wrenched to the side, the fabric tight against my thigh.

  “I need to get you there,” he breathe, lifting me up a little bit. He presses me, holding me against the door with just his bodyweight, my toes grazing the ground, just barely scraping the floor.

  I’m weightless, and he's holding me like that. One hand wrapped around my thigh bracing me as he fucks me hard, his other hand rubs circles against my lower stomach. Slow circles, a move that's hot and teasing all at the same time. My focus is pulled in every direction, but it narrows down to that bright pinpoint of light inside me… that heat. The driving need. It’s forcing me not to tell him to stop. He can't stop. I need this. His hips jerk, over and over again, as he thrust into me and I cry out, desperate to come again.