“We didn't have much money growing up but whenever he got the chance to bring me here, he did. Of course, we always sat up here because we couldn't afford the more expensive tickets.” He says, reminding me of the only other thing he's ever told me about his dad.
“I thought your dad was in politics?” I ask, not being an expert on politicians but assuming they make enough to take their child to a baseball game and get decent seats.
“My father was in politics.” He glances towards me. “My dad was a factory worker.” He says, leaving me confused by his statement.
Laughing lightly, he turns his attention back out to the game but to my surprise, continues talking. “My biological father was Jack Monroe. My mom met him their senior year of high school and fell head over heels. They conceived me while in college and Jack decided that was his moment to walk away. He left her. He left us.” He says, his face expressionless.
“I'm sorry to hear that.” I say, reaching over to run my hand along his shoulder.
“Don't be.” He says, turning his eyes towards me. “My father, was Lucas Reed. My mom met him a couple of years after I was born. He accepted me as his own and raised me as such. Jack signed over his rights and Lucas adopted me when I was six. Officially making me a Reed.”
“Did you ever get to know Jack?” I ask, curiosity making it impossible not to push for more information.
“He decided my Junior year of high school that he was ready to be a dad. By that point, I wanted nothing to do with him but for my mom's sake, I tried. We talked here and there through college and he even made it out to a few of my games but it never really amounted to anything beyond that. He died a year after...” He pauses. “After I left the league.” He skirts around his injury and keeps going, clearly not wanting me to pry for more. It's easy to see in that one small statement how much he misses the sport. A pain I am very familiar with.
“And your dad?” I ask.
“Passed away two years after that. Heart attack.” He says on a heavy shrug.
Not sure what to say or do, I reach across and take his hand, entwining my fingers with his. “He sounds like he was an amazing man.” I say, leaning into him.
“He was.” He says, turning his face inward. “He would have loved you.” He smiles. I can't stop the rush of excitement that runs through my veins at his words. Even when having such a serious conversation, he still finds a way to make it okay, to make me feel like I'm worth sharing the pain with. Or at least, some of the pain. It's clear to see his largest wound is one that has simply been bandaged up and has never fully healed.
The rest of the game goes by in a blur. The conversation quickly lightens after that and by the time we exit an hour later, we are both a bit intoxicated and laughing like teenagers as we make our way out of the stadium.
“There's some place I want to show you. If you're up for it.” He says, leading me down North Clark and then left on Addison when I agree.
We only walk about three blocks when Bentley comes to a stop outside of a little brick building with blacked out windows and an old rickety fence surrounding the outskirts of the property. “It's fine, I promise.” He laughs, catching my worried expression.
Tightening his grip on my fingers, he leads me down the cracked sidewalk towards the building. The closer we get, the more I can hear the sounds coming from the small establishment, but it isn't until Bentley pulls open the door that the full effect of the music streams all around me. Jazz. I know it the moment the saxophone kicks in.
Leading me further inside, I immediately squint through the smoke filled room trying to take in my surroundings. It's a little room, an old bar lining the right side, round tables lining the left. The room is lit only by dim red lights and makes it difficult for my eyes to adjust at first. Bentley takes my hand and escorts me to the bar, ordering two beers from the old white haired bartender before leading me to the far corner of the room, where a vacant table is shoved up against the far wall closest to the stage.
I know why he brought me here without him needing to tell me further. I can tell by his ease, the way he spoke to the bartender and the way he commands the room, that he has been here many times before. No doubt one of the places his mom brought him as a child and somewhere he has continued to frequent through the years.
I try to ignore how uncomfortable I feel dressed still in my Cubs gear and turn my attention to the stage that is currently occupied by five different men. To the left is two older gentlemen, one playing the saxophone, the other on the trumpet. A bass player sits on a stool towards the middle of the stage, bobbing his head back and forth to the sound of the music they are creating. There is a young man on a keyboard at the back of the stage and tucked in the corner is a middle aged man beating away on the drums.
I can tell by the way one will change the chord and the others will follow that they are playing through improvising. It's so exciting to watch them go back and forth and how into the music they are. Turning my attention to Bentley, I find him staring back at me with a look that I can't quite place but it immediately sends my steadily beating heart into a raging pound that makes me feel a bit off kilter.
We drink our beers in silence, watching the musicians as they do what they love, all the while I can feel Bentley's eyes on me. Even still, I try to focus on the music. I have never been a fan of Jazz but I will say, I have a much better appreciation for it now having experienced it like this, with Bentley at my side.
Before long, I find myself so engulfed in the performance going on in front of me that I am beating my feet against the dirty floor in time with the music, watching the men move along the stage and scream out to the crowd as they get lost in their art. Just after eleven, Bentley reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, cocking his head towards the door.
Nodding, I take his hand and allow him to lead me outside into the warm night air. It seems so clear and clean outside after having been tucked away in that little building for so long. “That was incredible.” I say, taking Bentley's hand as he leads me onto the sidewalk. Stopping at the curb, a black town car immediately pulls up in front of us and he steps forward to open the door before ushering me inside.
“When did you call a car?” I ask, knowing there is no way he could have heard a thing inside to make a phone call and he didn't once leave my side.
“It's this crazy new thing called text messages. Have you heard of them?” He asks, laughing when I swat at his leg as he settles in next to me.
“Don't be an ass.” I laugh, snuggling into his side when he drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Thank you for today.” I say, muffling a yawn with my hand. I don't drink often and with so little sleep, my drowsiness has increased substantially in the last few minutes.
“Thank you.” He says, pulling me tighter into his side.
“Pretty sure I didn't do anything.” I get out weakly.
“Pretty sure you did more than you realize.” He says, kissing the top of my head.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I don't remember falling asleep in the car but the moment Bentley pulls me into his lap and stands, my eyes shoot open. He smiles down at me and adjusts my weight in his arms.
“I can walk.” I protest lazily, snuggling into his embrace.
“I know.” He laughs, continuing to carry me.
Though I never would have thought it possible, I doze in and out on the elevator ride up to Bentley's suite and don't fully wake until he pushes his way through the door and the foyer light shines brightly in my face.
Pulling away from his chest, I rub my eyes and kiss his cheek before he finally sets me to my feet. In my groggy state, I consider asking why he didn't take me home but honestly, I'm glad he didn't. Kicking off my shoes, I begin undressing as I cross the living area and head towards the bedroom, discarding various items of clothing on my way down the hall.
“Are you coming?” I ask, turning to face him, now dressed in nothing but jeans and a bra, the Cubs hat still firmly on top of my head
.
Smiling wickedly, he quickly crosses the space and presses me firmly into the hallway wall, his mouth immediately closing down over mine. My fingers immediately drop to his waist and begin fumbling blindly with his belt, button and zipper, before pushing the material away from his hips. While today has been incredible, this is what I have wanted more than anything. To feel his hands on me, his body moving inside of me. Slipping off his shoes, he steps out of his pants and kicks them to the side, never once breaking away from my lips.
Reaching up, I pull off his baseball cap and toss it to the side, running my hands through his thick hair before trailing them down his neck, across his back, eventually grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling up, only breaking away from his kiss long enough to pull the material over his head.
“You are my kryptonite Logan. My fucking kryptonite.” He pants against my mouth as I slowly begin to massage his erection through the thin material of his boxer shorts. Pulling the hat from my head, he allows my hair to fall down my back, his fingers immediately tangling in it.
His statement sends a thrill of both excitement and fear rushing through me as I push past the barrier of his boxers and let the heaviness of his flesh settle in my hand. Running my fingers up and down his impossibly hard erection, I can't help the quiver that runs through my body when he pulls back and hits me with a look that makes me feel like in this moment, he would do anything for me. Anything.
Taking his mouth once more, I wrap my fingers around him and slowly begin working my hand up and down, loving the way his fingers dig into my flesh as I do. Rubbing my thumb along the top, a small amount of come gathers on the tip and I pull my hand away, licking the moisture with my tongue and swallowing down the salty liquid, his eyes burning through me as I do.
As if that is his breaking point, my jeans and panties are discarded in the hall and my bra is ripped off as he lifts me from the ground and pushes me into the bedroom, collapsing down on the bed with me in his arms.
He enters me on a thrust so quick and sudden that I cry out from the unexpected intrusion but my body quickly accommodates his size, forming around him like the master piece to a very intricate puzzle.
“Tell me you won't leave.” He breathes against my lips, his voice borderline shaky. “Tell me you'll stay with me.” He continues, slowing his movements as he hovers over me.
I want to scream yes. Tell him I will never leave. That I will be his forever. But I know I can't promise that. And while he may be saying these things now, he could very well feel entirely different in the morning and I refuse to put that pressure on us.
Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I do the only thing I know to do. I pull his face down to mine and kiss him, hard. Securing my leg around the back of him, I arch my body into his, holding onto him as tightly as I can as his movements become faster and less controlled.
I work my body perfectly against his causing just the right amount of friction to have me clawing at his back within minutes. The moment his eyes meet mine, I can tell that he's close. I can see it in the fire that burns there, the glaze the casts over his irises giving away how lost he is to the pleasure.
Knowing that I have the power to bring him to his breaking point, sends my already building orgasm plummeting over the edge and raking through my body causing me to shake below him. My undoing also seems to be his, as on one deep growl he falls apart above me, biting down on his lower lip as if to keep himself from crying out.
Slowing to a stop, Bentley hovers over me, staring down at my face. Reaching out, he wipes a stray hair away from my forehead and then trails the back of his hand down the side of my face, his eyes burning into mine so intensely, my stomach knots tightly making me feel almost nauseous and yet, strangely elated at the same time.
“Stay with me.” He says, this time his statement is more real, given that the heat of the moment has passed and now he hovers over me with a much clearer head.
“I can't.” I say, reaching up to touch his cheek with the palm of my hand.
“Stay with me.” He repeats, relaxing more of his weight down on me.
“Bentley.” I plead, the moment he reaches between us and circles my clit with the tip of his finger.
“I know you want this.” His statement is two sided but I can read between the lines. “Tell me you don't want this.” He challenges, his wandering fingers causing his erection to begin to harden inside of me once more.
“I want you.” I whisper, looking directly into his eyes before pulling his face back down to mine and pressing my lips gently to his. “I want you.” I repeat, moving my hips slowly up and down as he begins moving inside of me once more, officially ending our conversation.
****
“You could just call in sick.” Bentley laughs, refusing to let me get off the couch as I am set to be at work in less than a half an hour.
“I need the money.” I say, playfully elbowing him in the ribs and then trying to make my move of escape only to have him pull me back down and pin me into the leather cushions, his hands holding my wrists firmly above my head while the rest of his weight settles on top of me.
“I can pay you.” He nips at the flesh of my neck.
“Pretty sure that's called prostitution.” I laugh when he locks one hand around both wrists and then drops the other to my side, giving my tickle spot a firm squeeze.
“I could always just tie you up and not let you leave.” He threatens, grinding his erection against my upper thigh through our clothing.
“Pretty sure that's called kidnapping.” I say, jumping when his hand slides between us and grazes the sensitive flesh between my thighs.
“I think I could change your mind.” He says, slowly removing his hand from between my legs and trailing it up my shirt and under my bra to graze my sensitive nipple.
“I know you can.” I moan when he twists the nub between his fingers, moisture immediately pooling between my legs. “But you won't because I need to get to work and despite your stalling, I know that you are going to take me.” I say, smiling widely when he sighs and pushes himself up onto his knees, reaching down to help me into a sitting position.
“I just can't win.” He shakes his head, climbing to his feet.
“Is that what you call what we did all night last night and all day today? Not winning?” I ask, licking my lower lip.
“Okay I take it back. I'm the luckiest fucking bastard in the world.” He gives me a dazzling dimple filled smile before pulling me to my feet and dropping a heated kiss to my lips. He pulls me tightly against his body and deepens the kiss, leaving me nearly breathless when he pulls away.
“Just wanted to show you what you have to look forward to at the end of your shift.” He smiles and then gives me another peck before crossing the room and grabbing his car keys off of the kitchen counter.
We arrive at Allure with time to spare and against my better judgment, I agree to let Bentley walk me in through the front entrance. Malcolm is working the front door and doesn't let on that he thinks anything about the two of us arriving together, though I am sure he does.
“I'm going to check on a few things and then do some rounds. If you need anything, I'll be around.” He says, kissing my forehead just as we round the corner where the front office sits.
The moment Cora comes into view, I jump slightly and immediately separate from Bentley. If looks could kill, I would most definitely be taking my last breaths given the way her eyes are narrowed and focused on one thing, me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She questions, cocking her head to the side like she can't believe my nerve, not even paying the least bit of attention to Bentley.
“Excuse me?” I manage to get out without sounding entirely pathetic.
“What are you doing here Cora?” Bentley questions, stepping in between me and the woman that very clearly wants to rip my head off.
“What am I doing here?” Her tone is sharp and it's clear to see that she is beyond upset over catching me with
Bentley. I knew better than to let it go this far. I should have listened to my gut. I should have came in through the back, by myself, like I always do and then no one would be any wiser on the situation.
“Shira said you were in town. I assumed.....” She begins but he immediately cuts her off.
“You assumed wrong.” His voice takes on a tone I have never heard before and honestly, scares me a little.
“Bentley. You can't just....” Cora starts again but like before, Bentley silences her before she can say anymore.
“I am not going to argue with you right here for my employees and members to see. If you want to talk then we will talk.” He says, gesturing to the office. Cora makes an almost growling sound in the back of her throat and then marches into the office, stopping at the doorway to wait for Bentley, clearly making sure he doesn't have time to talk to me beforehand.
He throws me an apologetic look and then slips inside, closing the door behind him. I stand in the hallway motionless for what feels like forever, the blinds in the office blocking my view from what's happening inside.
“There you are.” Lo catches my attention as she makes her way towards me, a bright smile lighting up her face. “I've been looking everywhere for you. Everything okay?” She asks, when she stops directly in front of me.
“Yeah. Yeah I'm good.” I say, shaking my head. “Tell me I'm not on an early rotation.” I say, taking off down the hallway towards the back, Lo matching my strides as she walks next to me.
“Last dancer, first rotation. Early but you still have plenty of time.” She reassures me. “You sure you're okay?” She asks, stopping just outside of my dressing room door.
“Cora saw me and Bentley walk in together and she about lost her shit.” I say, rubbing my forehead.
“Wait! What?” Lo exclaims, making sure the hallway is deserted before continuing. “You came in with Bentley?”
You and I Alone Page 20