Change

by Willow, Jevenna

  Casey shut down the engine as the garage door closed, cocooning them into darkness. Before an overhead door light turned on, he shifted in his seat.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Sara licked her dry lips, drawing the man’s sight to her mouth.

  “Well…what?” she questioned back.

  He gave her a soft chuckle, then got out of the car. Two seconds later, he stood beside her door, opened it, and held out a hand for her to take. The slight hesitation on her part raised his brow.

  “Are you getting out? Or staying inside my car all night?”

  Sara swallowed the lump in her throat, placing her hand into his. This statement made only as a jest; on the other hand, perhaps he’d used it as bait to get her to move out of the vehicle before sunrise.

  “This isn’t going to backfire in my face, is it?” She couldn’t help but utter the wrong thought out of her head, at the worst possible moment.

  His brow rose. “Are you going to disappoint me?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” he played with. “Hate to make a long drive just for the hell of it.”

  The drive had taken them all of twenty minutes. Long? To Sara’s opinion…not long enough. To Griffen’s, most likely too damn long, since he wasn’t smiling and his patience looked to have worn thin over those twenty minutes.

  As he guided her out of the car, his good hand moved to the small of her back. The first initial touch of fingertips against her body caused Sara to flinch. An unwarranted action; nonetheless, one she’d not gotten away with.

  Casey turned her into his arms. The darkness of the interior garage hid what was in his eyes.

  “Why are you so nervous?” he asked, his mouth put near her ear.

  Little goose bumps ran down her spine, tingled in places denied such an exquisite pleasure for quite some time, as Sara moistened her lips. “Me? Nervous? Whatever gave you such a crazy idea?”

  He bent forward and his tongue slid down the length of her neck, creating even more gooseflesh to rise. “Yes, Mecenna, whatever gave me such a crazy idea as that?” His mouth then moved from her neck to her lips.

  The kiss lingered, and it heated her up from the inside out like none other before. The evidence of shared desire could not stay hidden. His engorged erection pressed firmly at the juncture of her legs.

  Sara’s breasts were tight and sensitive against his muscular frame. She couldn’t find voice even if she’d tried. Nevertheless, she soon discovered her hands had moved to his neck to hold his head firmly attached to hers. And, that his one hand had slid down to her ass, cupping her left butt cheek in a firm grip.

  The sudden tug of pressure in Sara’s inner core built to unstoppable. Dammit! She wanted more from Casey, but for some inexplicable reason he was doing his level best to hold her back.

  As his mouth drifted from hers, he rasped out, “You owe me a dance, Mecenna.”

  Sara could only nod.

  If anything could be ever said about Casey, it was he could certainly kiss a woman into speechlessness. The only thing she felt was heat. Heat that lit, overran, and took full control of her body. Heat that proved this was real.

  He took her by the hand and moved them from the garage directly into his home. He wouldn’t turn on any lights as they made their way to the farthest part of a fifteen thousand square feet playboys’ domicile. A staircase that led to a second story was then taken at near record speed before she had the opportunity to change her mind. Well, it was probably less than record speed, but Sara’s heart was doing double-time to what lie ahead and it sure as hell felt as if a steroid-induced roadrunner was controlling her footsteps.

  Three minutes later, she found herself inside a fully mirrored room with circular cushioned center surrounding a single metal pole. A leather chair was set off to one side. A small red light reflected from the twenty panels of glass gave the room a strange hue.

  “The light can be changed,” he said.

  Sara turned her head to face him. “What?” Her mind had traveled a million miles away; taken there on a rollercoaster ride by a kiss, a touch, a promise, and a roomful of mirrors.

  Casey pointed at the small red globe above the pole. “The light can be blue or green.”

  Red suited the mood. Blue would be have been interesting. Yet Sara found her mouth uttering, “Red is fine—if you want it as red.” She would rather the light as turned off, than caring what color it was. The dark would have been much easier to do this.

  Darkness could have hid her fears.

  Casey smiled, looked about to say something more, but must have changed his mind because he cleared his throat to alter its fact and stilled his tongue.

  Sara glanced at the pole. “So? How do you want me to start on this?”

  Practicing in the club late at night was one thing. To do this, within a private mirrored room, inside a man’s home—that man her boss, and with one hell of a hard-on in his pants, and she with the panties so wet the material could’ve been easily wrung of the moisture—turned into an entirely different something to be dealt with. Especially, for the basic fact she wanted to release his hard shaft and have it in her hand as quickly as possible. Or mouth. Or deep inside her wetted core. She wasn’t picky, only horny, as he’d predicted.

  Casey held firm to his convictions of their planned night by saying, “Later, Sweetheart. First…you dance and I see if what you’ve got is worthy of the club.”

  A raised brow and a hard grasp on reality, and not on the man’s bulge under his tight jeans, had her asking, “And if you don’t like the way I dance? Then what?”

  Casey’s smile came out unhindered, repeated twenty times throughout the mirrors. He need not say words to such a smile, but did so, perhaps only to appease her conscience. “I highly doubt you will disappoint me, but if you do…”

  His stalled thought had Sara eagerly questioning, “If I do?”

  “Mecenna, there are surefire ways of a man punishing a poor performance from his dancer. If he paid for it, it should be perfect. And if perfect…the dance should achieve its intended goal. This isn’t supposed to be a display of endurance or physical ability. It’s supposed to be an art form, a perfected sway of the human psyche into believing the impossible—sex without touch, driving enticement into panting need. And if done right, that panting should be pretty damn special.”

  Sara’s brow rose. “What kind of punishment are we talking about?” Her heartbeat had already jumped out of her chest when he claimed a pole dance as an art form. What possible punishment could he have in mind to a poor performance?

  Casey stepped forward to take her upper arm in a firm grip, easing her body to within inches of his. “Yes, Mecenna, what kind of punishment would that be?” he said, leaving it up to her.

  She could either take the reins of their evening, or leave them alone for the man to grasp. The ball was now in her court. In other words, if she displeased him it would be up to her what the punishment would be and how it was administered, as well its duration. Casey looked to have a few ideas in his head, as did Sara. Unfortunately, those ideas probably did not match.

  He dropped her arm and took a step back. “Undress Mecenna.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “Now?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Were you planning on doing this tomorrow?”

  “Um…no.” She was feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden, that’s all.

  “Undress, Mecenna. I want to see all of you.” His tone crisp, with no allowance made for mistake on her part, his gaze took a leisurely tour of her still-clothed form.

  Sara swallowed the stubborn reoccurring lump in her throat. “Don’t I get a little music to dance to?”

  His cocked brow added more to these words, stalling any movement on her part.

  “Undress Mecenna. If I like what I see, I’ll turn on the music.”

  He gave her a hard look, rather cold and heartless, chilling her, as did the throaty tone of his voice. This made her angry; far angri
er than she’d ever been in a long time.

  “Well, you certainly liked what you were looking at in the club! Nothing has changed since then.” She made a full sweep of her body with her hand to prove this fact. What he saw before was still there. She’d not switched bodies.

  “The club is far different than here,” he reasoned. “You’re in my territory now. I have higher standards here. And there is a whole lot different on you…than before.” A sardonic roam of his eyes ran over her tight breasts to lay proof to these words.

  Sara knew she had want written all over her and he likely desired to see want replaced by need. After an hour or so inside a mirrored room, it certainly should be. Nevertheless, she had to work for it, and until perfection achieved its goal, Casey was reserving final judgment if she’d earned it or not.

  He made himself comfortable on the leather chair specifically for the man’s viewing pleasure. He looked so damn relaxed Sara saw red.

  “What do you want from me Griffen?” Sara was seething under her skin.

  “I want you to dance. I thought this more than obvious.”

  “Fuck you! You want more than a measly dance out of me. Why go through the charade of pretending otherwise? Why not just come out and say it?”

  He did not get off the chair. But his tone of voice increased the chill she felt before, making it seem almost lukewarm in comparison. “Do I want you, Mecenna?”

  Sara’s eyes slammed into the tight crotch of his jeans. “Do I even want you?” she mimicked. Her sharp tongue and sassiness meant to faze him; she should have known nothing would ever faze the mighty Casey Griffen. He easily proved as much by saying so.

  “Of course I want you. What man wouldn’t want you? You are desirable. You have all the equipment, in all the right places. But if you can’t dance to capture my eye—” he stalled upon, lowering his sight to the huge erection he was going to do nothing about for the time being. “—then you will never get what your wetted cunt desires from me…or from anyone else. And I’ll fire you. It’s that simple.”

  Languid, passion-filled eyes drifted to her face. “Contrary to popular belief, Sweetheart, you will have to earn me. There are no freebies when you’re in my territory.”

  “Yeah? Well, there are no freebies to come out of me, either.”

  She was about to walk away, leave the mirrored room—and the man—but his hand snaked out to grab her by the wrist.

  “Where the hell do you think you are going?” Casey gained his feet faster than it took to blink.

  Sara’s eyes blazed into his. “Home.”

  “How? I drove you here. Remember?”

  She turned on his arrogance quicker than a trained hound could tree a coon. “By way of walking, you sonofabitch—same as I always do! And when I’m with you this has the tendency to be quite often as of late.”

  Casey’s smile grew tenfold, his grip on her arm tightened to painful. “You’re not leaving this house on foot, Mecenna.”

  “Says who?”

  He pulled hard on her arm until she stumbled forward into his. “I say so.” His lips were unsmiling. “Don’t try to push me into anger for the single reason I won’t let you into my pants sooner than you need to be. It doesn’t suit you. Perhaps with Lace it would work, but with you…it only makes you cheap, Sweetheart.”

  Sara was about to slap his face for such a chauvinistic comment but Casey anticipated the action and unfortunately took hold of her arm, using the hand on his injured wrist. His flinch of pain came out unhidden. “Fucking Hell!”

  He dropped her wrist to push her away.

  She watched him grit his teeth through the fire in his wrist before he could add anything further. And when he did, it did not come out of his mouth as nice. “You knew what I wanted from you hours ago. In the echo of your very words…why dare pretend otherwise?”

  Sara’s hackles rose. She wasn’t a tease and how dare he force her to say she was. “I’m not pretending a damn thing, Griffen.”

  His cocked brow mocked her thoughts about this. “Oh, no? Not pretending?”

  “No!”

  “Why can’t you just admit what you want so we can get on with our night?” he questioned. Being nice or jovial slipped to the wayside, because he was now glaring at her.

  “Why can’t you?” she clipped back.

  “I already have, Sweetheart,” he ruled firmly.

  Sara rolled her eyes.

  Unfortunately, the slight action stirred the large, well-toned man into reaction. Again, he grabbed her arm, and this time Casey was smart enough not to use a broken wrist to hold onto her. His mouth found hers, perhaps to curb the building anger inside his body. Perhaps not. It sure as hell was not because he wanted to kiss her.

  At first, Sara fought him. Ever so slowly she gave in to the demands of his pressuring lips and masterful tongue and any fight in her body fled within mere heartbeats. She literally melted into him by a kiss.

  As his lips tormented her into submission, Casey’s hand moved from her arm, to her neck, then to her hair. His fingers dug into the long threads as he drove his tongue deeper into her mouth, searching for her soul. Before she could anticipate what he was about to do, he twisted the strands in his fingers to where she could not escape from his grasp.

  Sara did not fear him, though the act almost violent. Nor had she reacted to it as he likely thought she would. She simply stood in Casey’s arms, pressed firmly against his body, and dared him to speak the truth. This was all she wanted from him—the truth.

  Casey took a deep breath, flared his nostrils…and slowly gave in. “Fine. You win. I do want you. I want to be deep inside you. I want you over me, to taste every inch of you. I want to feel every inch of you. I want you in any way had of you. And not just once, but many, many times, until I leave you so exhausted you can’t stand upright. Satisfied, Mecenna? Is that what you wanted to hear? A man needing you so badly that nothing else matters? Not even conscience reason, or his possible loss of sanity?”

  When she was about to put answer to all of this, he added more. “But I want you to dance for me and until you do as I have said…you will not get any part of me.”

  Her eyes met his. They locked, held firm.

  “What is it going to be, Mecenna? Run home with your tail between your legs? Or dance in front of the mirrors?”

  Sara took in a deep breath and let it go as slowly as possible. This somehow relaxed Casey’s grip to her hair. “Fine, I’ll dance. But not in here.”

  He questioned briskly, “Why not in here?”

  “I don’t like the mirrors. That’s why.”

  “If you want to dance in the club, you’ll have to get used to the mirrors, the lights, and a whole lot else. There will be times when I might not be around to control the outcome of what you start with one of the customers. All you know is what you’ve viewed firsthand, but you don’t know what really happens in the back rooms. Once you’re in there…Well, you won’t have a crowded bar and others to make certain no harm comes your way.”

  “I’ve changed my mind, then,” she reasoned out.

  “Oh?” Casey’s arched brow contradicted this.

  Sara shrugged her shoulders as if it no longer mattered. “I no longer want to do the club routine—if so dangerous.”

  “Really?” He seemed shocked by this news.

  “Yes, really.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  Sara took another deep breath; held it. The way he’d said this didn’t sit well inside her. “I just realized you’re not going to like the performance, no matter what I do or say, so why should I get my hopes up it will ever end in the club’s private room?”

  His eyes widened. “How the bloody hell would you know if I am or am not going to like your performance?”

  Sara didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he asked for it. “You only kiss me when I anger you. You tell me to undress without any care if I’m nervous or not. And you have a strange look in your eyes that clearly say
s you brought me here only to prove something of your manhood. I’m not stupid. Nor am I a fool.”

  “And this something would be?” he coerced.

  “That you don’t trust me.”

  Casey took a step back, looking as though slapped. To which Sara’s eyes widened in alarm, his reaction more than readable at this point.

  “You don’t…do you?” she yelped.

  He tried to turn from her, gather his thoughts, but Sara caught his arm and forced him to face her. “Why the hell don’t you trust me?”

  Nostrils flared, eyes closed, he pulled in a deep breath. “I just don’t.”

  The retort came far too quickly off his tongue for Sara not to react. “I never did anything to you, for you not to trust me.”

  Two raised brows proved otherwise, and the words, “Oh, really? Nothing?” added far more to her sudden lie.

  “Yes. Nothing,” she started. “There is no reason…”

  He cut her off before she could get herself in too deep of shit she’d not be able to get out of. “Nothing, Sara? Nothing at all?”

  “Yes. Nothing.”

  Sadly, it took Sara at least four agonizing seconds to realize her terrible mistake. By then it was too late. Her gasp felt like another presence inside the mirrored room—one mistake that ate at the soul until there was nothing left.

  She’d answered him…as Sara. Not as Mecenna Jones.

  Fuck!

  ****

  “That’s right, Sara,” he muttered, stalling on her real name. “I’ve known for months your real identity. And I let you get away with it, because of this.” His hand swept the mirrored room. “Unless you undress, and dance, and we get on with our night as planned…I could easily change my mind about tonight—and you—and start to question why you lied about who you are, and for what purpose it was done. And we sure as hell don’t want that, do we…Sara?”

  He physically sneered on her given name this time.

  When she was about to turn her head and look away, Casey pinched the bottom of her face in a tight grip, forcing her eyes to his. “Why the hell would you have ever thought I could trust you?”