You and I Alone

by Melissa Toppen

  “You mean, you don't already know everything?” I tease, picking at my croissant and popping a piece of the buttery goodness in my mouth.

  “Seriously. Tell me something.” He says, smiling his dimple filled smile at me. I wish that smile didn't make my heart jump slightly but the truth is, it does.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, not really sure what to say. I have never been a person to talk about myself. That's why I have always loved dance so much. It allows me to tell the world what I'm feeling without ever having to speak a word.

  “Tell me what happened?” It's a question not a statement, as his hand reaches between us and settles on my scarred knee.

  “Not much to tell outside of what you already know.” I shrug, trying to play it off like it's no big deal. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he knows better than that but even still, I refuse to give him the emotion I know he's looking for.

  “I was rehearsing and came down on it wrong. After a couple of surgeries the doctors determined that my knee would never be strong enough to dance again, at least not professionally. Of course, that didn't stop me from trying and I ended up pushing myself too hard and only made the injury worse.”

  “And now? Does it not bother you to dance at the club?” He asks, seeming genuinely interested.

  “Not really. I know what my leg can take and what it can't. Besides, dancing at the club does not require near the physical strain that dancing for real does.” I take a drink of my water before glancing in his direction to see him studying me curiously. “What?” I ask, coughing slightly when my water gets stuck in my throat.

  “Is dancing at the club not dancing for real?” He asks, putting air quotations around the for real part.

  “I mean yeah, I guess. But it's not the type of dancing that blew my knee out. I danced more Contemporary and Ballet, both of which require a lot of leg strength and stability. Most of my routines included a lot of jumps and tricks and after the injury, my knee wasn't strong enough to support the amount of strain I put on it. What about you?” I ask, wanting desperately to change the subject from me.

  “Me?” He questions, seeming confused which in turn confuses me. Reaching across the small space that separates us to his outstretched leg, I push up his pant leg and run my hand along the scar that stretches from his knee to just a few inches above his ankle.

  “Did you think I didn't know?” I ask, unsure as to why he's looking at me the way he is.

  “I didn't really think about it honestly.” He admits, adjusting his pant leg back down over the scar. “It was a long time ago.” He says on a shrug, not meeting my gaze.

  “I see.” I say, nodding my head in understanding. “So it's okay to dig up the scars of my past but not okay when the tables are turned.”

  “It's not like that.” He protests. “It's just.... I just don't want to talk about it.” He says, his voice taking on a hardness I have never heard before.

  “Fair enough.” I say, more than a little frustrated that when it really boils down to it, he won't give me the same trust that I have given him. Deciding not to push the topic any further, I try a different angle just trying to find out more information about him. I don't even know why but deep down I want to know every little detail about him.

  “What about now? How many clubs do you own?” I ask, seeing him visibly relax at the change of subject.

  “Six.” He answers. “Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Cleveland, and Detroit.” He rambles off without a thought.

  “Are they all like Allure?” I ask.

  “For the most part. Obviously each one is in a different location so they don't all look exactly the same but they have the same atmosphere and are all operated the exact same way.”

  “Can I ask what made you want to get into this type of business?” I ask, hoping the question doesn't come out offensive as it is not my intention.

  “I saw a need in the market and I filled it.” He answers simply and then laughs when he catches the annoyed expression on my face. “Growing up, my father was in politics. Late in his career he was involved in a rather large scandal involving a gentleman's club. Seeing everything he went through, it just made me realize how important discretion is within that and many other types of careers. I opened the first in Chicago and then expanded out when the business really took off.”

  “And what does your father think of all of this?” I ask, collecting my food containers and sitting them off the side.

  “No idea. He died before Allure really took off.” He says, not meeting my gaze.

  “I'm so sorry.” I blurt, immediately feeling horrible for my question.

  “Don't be.” He says, giving me a small smile. “We weren't that close.”

  “Well I think it's amazing.” I immediately make an attempt to move past the serious turn our conversation has taken. “You had an idea and you pursued it. And became clearly very successful in the process. It's impressive.” My smile widens when he turns his bright eyes on me, a playful grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

  “You know what I think is amazing?” He asks, pushing his unfinished sandwich to the side before reaching out and grabbing my forearm, pulling me to him with next to no effort. “You.” He whispers, taking my mouth with his.

  His lips dance gently across mine but it's enough to immediately have me gripping the back of his neck and deepening the kiss as I climb into his lap, my legs wrapping around his back as I grind myself into his hardening erection.

  “Everything about you is amazing.” He speaks against my lips as he grinds himself harder into me. “The way you taste.” He says, trailing his tongue along my jawline. “The way your breath catches when I do this.” He says, reaching up to lightly twist my nipple through the fabric of my dress. “The way your heart pounds in your chest when I bring you to the edge. The little noises you make when you're close and the way you scream out when I make you come.” He says, covering up my small whimper of arousal with his lips as he takes my mouth once more.

  Lifting me slightly from his lap, he reaches around me and pushes the remains of our dinner the rest of the way out of the way before laying me backwards onto my back and pushing forward on his knees to hover over me.

  Having only thrown on my dress when dinner arrived, the moment he spreads my legs open, I am completely bare to him. He takes in a ragged breath as he looks down at me. Reaching out, he rubs the back of his hand gently against my freshly waxed pubic area. “Fucking perfect.” He breathes, trailing his fingertip inside of my folds.

  I try to keep my breathing steady and my movements still as he moves his finger up and down before finally sliding it inside of me. I can tell by how easily the first finger enters and then the second, that I am more than a little wet. This man can make me wet just by looking at me. When he touches me, I don't even stand a chance. Every look, every noise, every touch makes me want more.

  Pulling his hand away, he grabs the bottom of his white t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Immediately my eyes fall to his perfect body. I think I could spend the rest of my life looking at nothing but this man's chest and shoulders. He is the epitome of perfection and I have to physically rip my eyes away from his physique.

  Leaning forward, he places gentle kisses across my abdomen as he pulls my dress higher and higher, baring more flesh as he goes until eventually he sits me up just enough to pull the material completely from my body.

  Leaning back, he rakes his eyes across my naked torso, his hands trailing across each inch that his eyes cover. “Bentley.” I plead when he leans forward and grinds his erection into me through the fabric of his pants.

  “Tell me what you want.” He says, pushing himself harder against me.

  “You.” I breathe, reaching up and locking my hand around the back of his neck.

  “You're going to have to be more specific than that Logan.” He teases. Dropping his face to mine, he slowly trails his tongue across my bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.” His br
eath dances hot against my face.

  “I want you to fuck me.” I plead, my frustration coming out clearly in my voice.

  “You want me to fuck you?” He pulls back slightly and smiles wickedly at me before dropping his head to my chest and taking my nipple roughly into his mouth.

  “Yes.” I plead out, tangling my fingers in his hair as he sucks the sensitive flesh so hard it's borderline painful before switching to the other side and repeating the process. “Please.” I whimper, wanting nothing more than to feel the fullness of having him inside of me. “Please.”

  I can tell that my begging has him fighting like hell to drag this out and seeing how close I am to getting what I want, I seize the opportunity to reach between us and grip his hardness in the palm of my hand. “Fuck.” He hisses, the moment my hand closes around him.

  It takes only seconds before his pants are discarded on the floor, followed quickly by his boxers, allowing his massive erection to spring free as he quickly rolls a condom down over himself. Settling back between my thighs, he toys at my entrance for only a short few seconds before plunging deeply inside of me, both of us crying out from the intensity of the pleasure surging between us.

  Picking up speed almost immediately, within minutes we are both a sweaty panting mess of tangled bodies and wordless moans as our bodies pound into each other, both grasping, trying desperately to hold on.

  Slowing to a stop, Bentley rolls us together, placing me on top and as such, giving me the control that I so desperately crave, especially where this man is concerned. Pushing back, I place my hands on his chest to give myself some leverage as I slowly begin to ride him. Circling my hips slowly above him, I plunge down deeper and then pull back up, loving the way desperation crosses his face when I do so.

  Quickening my strides, I lean further back so that his massive erection rubs inside of me at the perfect angle which has me on the brink within seconds. Not able to control myself, I ride him harder, pushing back further to feel the added pressure send a spiral of waves crashing over me as I come above him.

  My orgasm sends him over the edge and after a handful of hard plunges he groans out and then stills below me, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. Leaning forward, I lay my head against his chest and breath in deeply. There is a slight reminiscence of his cologne but mainly I just smell me. Me and sex and the smell is intoxicating on his skin.

  I'm not sure how long we lay like that, his erection eventually softening inside of me. I have no motivation to move, no strength or want to pull myself from his body and he seems to be in no rush either.

  It isn't long before I feel heaviness settle over my eyes and even though I know that I am seconds away from sleep, I still can't bring myself to move out of his arms. As he trails his hands softly up and down my back, I eventually slip under with no recollection of actually doing so.

  I wake slightly when Bentley shifts under me and rolls me to the side before picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom. I know I need to leave. I need to go home. And yet, I can't make myself do it. The moment my body meets the softness of the mattress below me and Bentley's arms wrap around me, pulling my back tightly to his chest, I know there is nothing on this earth that could force me out of this perfect moment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I wake with a start and am immediately greeted with the heaviness of Bentley's body draped across mine. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I see that it is just after four in the morning. As much as I want to stay, I know that I can't. I have already broken so many of my own rules tonight and honestly, I am a bit terrified by how quickly everything goes out the window where this man is concerned.

  Carefully pushing his leg back, he rolls slightly on a heavy exhale but doesn't wake. I slip out of the bed as quietly as I can, doing my best not to shift the bed too much as I do. The last thing I want is for Bentley to wake up right now. I need to get out of here while I still can.

  Fumbling blindly in the dark, I manage to find the door without incident and open it as carefully as possible before slipping out into the dimly lit hallway. It isn't until I locate my dress on the living room floor that I realize I left my panties somewhere in the bedroom. Not wanting to risk going back in there, I chalk it up as a loss and quickly slip my dress over my head before making my way to the front door to retrieve my heels and purse.

  Not wanting to just disappear without a word, I make my way into the kitchen and search through a few drawers before finally locating a pad of paper with the hotel logo printed on it and a pen. I scribble down a quick message and leave it on the counter where I know he will see it.

  Bentley,

  Thank you so much for an amazing night.

  It is something I won't soon forget.

  XOXO

  Logan

  I re-read it one more time before finally making my way to the front door. While it seems a little juvenile, I'm not really sure what else to say. I wait until I am in the hallway before slipping on my heels and then quickly make my way to the end of the hall to the elevator.

  Panic rises in my chest when I realize I do not have the elevator key but then I immediately relax when I see that I don't need it to go down. Hitting the button, the door slides open with no delay and the ground floor button lights up as it is the only option. Once the doors close and the car starts its decent downwards, I push my back into the cool glass wall, memories of last night flooding my vision.

  I can't ever remember experiencing anything even remotely close to what Bentley showed me last night. I expected him to be more dominant, more demanding. A man who only wanted one thing. And while his dominance did show through in the way he commanded my body, it didn't feel like a one night arrangement with him. It felt like something else entirely.

  We talked and joked and in a weird way, I feel like I connected to him on a level that I have not connected with another man before. Even though I know that nothing can or will ever develop beyond this experience, it doesn't make the sadness over that fact any less real.

  The hotel is completely empty with the exception of a few employees that I pass on my way through the lobby. I feel like I can't breathe easy until I finally step out into the cool night breeze. I take a deep inhale and let it out, feeling like it's the first real breath I have taken since arriving here hours ago.

  It takes me a moment to remember my ride over and the fact that I have no means to get home. Grateful that Allure is just a few blocks away, I set off in that direction. While sleeping in my dressing room is not ideal, there is a couch in there and I've done it before. It seems the best option out of any. I don't want to take a cab at this hour of the night and calling anyone is completely out of the question. How strange it is to sneak out on Bentley only to escape to the very place he owns.

  It only takes me about fifteen minutes to arrive at the club. Using my employee key, I enter through the back and slip into my dressing room undetected. Sliding the lock into place, I drop my purse on the vanity and slip out of my heels before collapsing onto the small brown couch along the back wall.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I do my best to try to shake the weird cloud that seems to be hovering over me. For whatever reason, something just feels off. I can't explain it or even begin to understand it for that matter but something just feels different and I am one hundred percent certain it has everything to do with Bentley Reed.

  ****

  “So you just left? Just like that?” Andrea seems in complete disbelief after spending the last twenty minutes listening to me recap last night's events over the phone.

  “What was I supposed to do?” I ask, slipping on a pair of black fitted capris and a gray tank top, thankful that I keep extra clothes in my dressing room but wishing desperately I had a shower to detox under rather than having to settle for a sink splash and perfume bath.

  “I don't know, stay. Pretty sure that's what most normal people would do.” She laughs on the other end of the line.

  “Since when have you known m
e to be normal?” I retort, laughing at myself.

  “Good point. Only you could spend an incredible night with a gorgeous, rich and powerful man like Bentley Reed only to turn around and sneak out in the dead of the night with no intention of ever seeing him again.”

  The moment the words leave her mouth, a hard knot forms in the pit of my stomach over the thought. I know the terms. Hell, I made the terms. But I can't help but panic slightly at the thought of never seeing him again. What the hell is wrong with me? Normally I would be the happiest person ever. I just spent an incredible night with an amazing man and got to walk away with no strings attached. So why do I feel like I just lost my best friend?

  “Earth to Anna. Come in Anna.” Andrea laughs when she clearly realizes I have zoned out on her. Shaking my head, I try to regain some semblance of my normal self.

  “Sorry.” I laugh. “I think I am still half asleep.” I lie. Lord knows she would have a field day if she knew the truth about my distraction. “So how is Vermont? Tell me everything.” I say, slipping on my flip flops before stepping out of my dressing room and quickly making my way into the back parking lot, thankful that no one seems to have noticed my arrival or departure for that matter.

  “Oh it's wonderful.” She says sarcastically.

  “Uh oh.” I laugh. “What happened?” I ask, turning left and cutting the back way down Nelson street towards Patty's studio.

  “My crazy mother is up to her dramatics again. Nothing out of the ordinary. I'm just bored I guess. I am surrounded by all these gorgeous men at the pool everyday and have no one to ogle them with.” She pouts.

  “What a hard life that must be.” I joke, turning left and then immediately right, quickening my strides as I go.

  “Don't play. It really is the most unfortunate situation. Please tell me you will come up for a weekend. You have to.” She pleads.

  “I don't know. I would love too but my schedule is packed this summer. I am working six days a week between the club and the studio.”