Smoldered

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Three’s Company

  Natalie

  ONE WOULD have thought my boss would have wanted to sleep all day after being up most of the night. But this morning he was a thoughtful, golden, soft Asher, all wrapped up in a tough exterior. Which drew me to him like a parched person to a tall glass of lemonade on a scorching-hot summer day.

  At the same time, my brain was at war with my steadily climbing desire for the man. My mind cautioned me to pull away from his sweetness, throwing up red flags all over the place that I didn’t deserve this soft side of him. After all, there was no way he could honestly be sprinkling me with what I wanted most.

  I would rather he have been more of a dick than doling out a decent dose of kindness. Then I could walk away without regrets or cares, head to wherever I wanted, ditch the desert for the beach, never looking behind me, and be the woman I’d always dreamed of being, or at least a piece of her. Because I still had to dance and entertain men. I still had to make a living.

  But no, Asher couldn’t be an ass. He was all kind and caring, worrying about what time my boy would get home from my mom’s place, and saying, “Hope you can stay to eat,” while still buried and twisted in the covers, wrapped in each other’s limbs.

  I couldn’t say no to the gentleman version of Asher when he rolled over and said in a raspy whisper, “This is so decadent, Nat. Always wanted to wake up like this. I don’t want to rush it.”

  So I texted my neighbors to see if one of them could go over and wait for Quinn, and perhaps watch him for an hour or two until I got back. Lucky for me, one of them responded quickly; she was up and could go over to my place.

  With Quinn handled, I turned my full attention to the man who both gloriously consumed and scarily haunted my thoughts. At the moment, he happened to be snaking his way down my body with his tongue, pausing at the dip in my belly, licking and blowing, then sweeping his mouth gently down a path marked by him, making his way to the screaming, burning heat between my legs.

  “Ash, I thought you mentioned coffee and breakfast,” I said with a halfhearted tug on his hair.

  He looked up at me with those eyes. Neither shiny silver nor smoky gray, but somewhere in the middle, they were a quiet inferno, smoldering when he said, “First, I’m going to have some in-room dining, and then we’ll have a proper breakfast with coffee, doll.”

  He winked and then went back to what he had been doing before I interrupted him. With one solid stroke, he landed the tip of his tongue on my most sensitive spot, and he didn’t let up until I was twisting in the silky seven-hundred-thread-count sheets, yelling his name, pulling his hair without any regard, and scratching and clawing at his back without knowing if I wanted him to let up or keep going, giving me more.

  As he made his way back up my body, his mouth landing on mine, I reached down and gripped him, squeezing his length the way he liked it. Asher may have been acting all doting moments earlier, but in the bedroom—or his private office—I knew he needed it rough and raw.

  It wasn’t like I was complaining. I enjoyed a little roughness in the bedroom, always had. But with my hand wrapped around Asher’s wide heat, his mouth nipping at my neck, his teeth grazing along my collarbone, this was no time to dwell on the past. I needed to focus on what I wanted at the moment. Actually, needed was more like it. I had no idea how much longer I would have this, and my body craved as much connection as possible with the man who secretly owned my heart.

  I had to stock up.

  Without moving the hand sliding up and down Asher’s dick, I reached my other hand into the nightstand, grabbed a condom, and ripped it open with my teeth. This action alone brought another one of his sexy growls from deep within his throat. Without a word, I slid it on him and he slipped deep inside me, nearly reaching the depths of my soul. As he burrowed his length in my heated core, filling me, pulling in and out at a fast pace and hitting every nerve, he nearly made me believe in a happy ending for myself. Until I came, so very hard, and immediately remembered my predicament when I came down from my Asher-induced high.

  Pushing my thoughts to a less heavy place as Asher pulsed inside me, giving me every last drop of his energy, the condom thankfully catching the gallon of cum rushing out of him, I attempted to savor the moment as he pulled me close and held me tightly.

  When he finally spoke, it dawned on me that we’d been quiet, except for all the hushed moans. Apparently, we’d allowed our bodies to do the communicating during bedroom sex, completely different from the dirty, very verbal trysts we’d enjoyed in his office.

  Now we were facing each other, Asher’s thigh casually thrown over mine, his hands cradling my cheeks as he planted a long kiss on my lips. “Good morning. I’m so glad you slept over. Isn’t this fucking great waking up like this?” he said, his voice gravelly in my ear, his breath soft on my cheek.

  “It’s nice,” I said carefully, not wanting to give away too much.

  He held my face a tad tighter, stared me down, and said, “Better than nice.”

  Averting my gaze to avoid the intensity of his, I said softly, “I know.”

  “Don’t worry, Nat. You don’t have to admit how sensational this really fucking is. I know you’re lying and protecting yourself, I can feel it. But I will convince you to see it differently, to see it my way.”

  He lightly slapped my ass, then said, “Don’t even bother to deny it. I know what I know, girl.”

  With that, he rolled off me and headed to the bathroom, from where he yelled, “Let’s go, doll. It’s breakfast time.”

  I’D JUST sat up in bed with the sheet wrapped around me when the frustrating man strutted back into the room, picked me up—still draped in the sheet and nothing else—then carried me down to his kitchen and plopped me down on top of his granite countertop. The cool stone felt good on my ass, doing little to chill my desire.

  Damn. Caveman-crazy Asher is even sexier than the gentleman version.

  “What do you want to eat, Nat? I got it all. You name it, I’ll make it.” Asher moved confidently around the kitchen, pulling out a griddle pan and ingredients to make pancakes and omelets when his phone rang. He took a quick peek at the cell phone sitting on the charger and mumbled, “Shit.”

  “Take it,” I said. “It’s no biggie.”

  Asher gave me a sideways glance. “You sure? I hate to, but it’s Mike. It’s probably important if he’s calling this early.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a tiny nod.

  He walked toward his office, phone cradled to his ear as he said, “What’s up, Mike? Tell me something good this morning.”

  I stayed on the counter surveying the kitchen, taking in the calming, subdued color of the tile, the warmth of neutral hues taking me away, filling me with weird hope. For what, I had no clue.

  My thoughts drifting to happily-ever-after with Asher, I didn’t hear the back door click open. Next thing I knew, Sienna was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her mouth hanging open while I sat buck naked on Asher’s granite counter, barely covered by a sheet.

  This is why I don’t do sleepovers.

  We both mumbled our surprise as we stared at the floor, anywhere but at each other. Sienna then apologized profusely while attempting to make her way back to the door. But before she could, Asher came back down the hallway, shouting something about being sorry for taking the call, until he stepped into the kitchen and realized we weren’t alone. At the sight of Sienna, he turned into yet another version of Asher—the strong, brotherly, protective one.

  The man he was for only one woman. Sienna.

  She needs it. Not me.

  Of course, he asked her to stay. She said no, and was out of there faster than I could hop off the counter. It wasn’t as if we didn’t like each other. Sienna kept to herself and the gang of brooding men protecting her, and I didn’t mix work and pleasure except when it came to Asher, which was quickly becoming a huge mistake.

  As he prepped and cooked us a gourmet breakfast, he said, “This couldn�
�t get any better, Nat, having you here. I never get to really enjoy this space, really live in it. And your ass on my countertop—that’s living.”

  Trying not to squirm, I said, “Yes, it’s nice, but you know, Ash, my life doesn’t really lend itself to this all that much.”

  “Bull! You know I would welcome your kid here.” He eyed me up and down with a smirk and added, “I know you couldn’t be naked like that, but you don’t have to keep everything so compartmentalized. It would be an honor for me to know your son.” He turned and gave me a full-on smile before focusing back at the cooktop.

  I lifted my long hair off my neck, suddenly feeling hot from the direction the conversation was taking. “It’s not that, Ash. Not you. It’s me, really. I don’t think I want him to be a part of all this. Our lives.”

  Asher turned around and pinned me with an intense stare. “I call bullshit on that too.”

  “Why?” I shot back, and crossed my arms over my chest. “You were the one who always said I could do better, break out of where we came from.”

  Pressing his lips together, he was silent for a moment as he flipped pancakes with steady hands. When he looked up at me, his eyes were blazing.

  “For starters, we did break away. We’re rewriting the way shit is done in Vegas, and you’ve done nothing but earn an honest living since working for me.” He strode over and placed a hand on either side of my thighs, caging me in and staring me down as he waited for a response.

  “I know, but I just like to keep Quinn to myself. Period.”

  Asher leaned closer, the smell of old cologne and sex filling my nose as he said, “More bullshit. You’ve been doing this alone forever, little doll. I don’t get it. You could have a whole extended family helping you if you would just let us in.”

  Protective to Psycho in Three Seconds Flat

  Natalie

  I PULLED into the back lot of the Tunnel the Tuesday after my stupid and weak moment at Asher’s, and braced myself for the night ahead as I got out of my car.

  Who knew how Asher would act today? I certainly didn’t.

  Stepping out into the bright afternoon sunlight, I brushed back my long hair that drifted loose across my neck in the chilly winter breeze. With big eyeglasses firmly planted on my face, my usual skinny jeans and wraparound sweater covering my soon-to-be naked body, I kicked my car door shut while balancing two take-out cups of coffee and made my way to the back door of the Tunnel.

  God, Asher was a loose cannon, day and night, never letting up, and it wasn’t just driving me insane. I could tell he was making everyone bat-shit crazy.

  I yanked open the back door of the Tunnel, and right away Petey was breathing down my neck. I loved the bouncer to pieces, but Asher had him on such a tight leash these days—even more so since his promotion to head bouncer—the poor dude was one hair shy of being as crazy as our mutual employer.

  It was just bad luck a few weeks ago when a tiny little incident involving me went down under Petey’s watch, and now after our sleepover, Asher was on even higher alert.

  So I desperately tried to ignore their recent overly obsessive behavior, which had escalated over the weekend, and go on with my life as usual, letting Petey do his job. Especially today as I rushed into the club for my shift; I just wanted to get to work.

  It didn’t help that Petey reminded me so much of Asher back in the day, the somewhat softer version I knew as a young girl, with his wavy blond locks, scruffy beard, tight T-shirts, and leather pants. Except his deep hazelnut-brown eyes radiated warmth unlike Asher’s silver orbs, which were either a burning inferno of desire or a raging storm of fury at any given moment.

  As I made my way into the club, Petey plastered a bright smile on his face. His fake grin totally contradicted his tough-guy persona, and made me giggle out loud.

  “Hi, Nat,” he said with too much enthusiasm. “How you doing today? Oh, look at that, you brought me a coffee. Thanks, baby doll.” Then he reached for the second cup of joe I was juggling.

  Stifling my laughter, I said, “Here,” and shoved the cup at him, causing a little dribble to splat up on his black tee. Good.

  Petey reached up to brush the coffee off his shirt before taking a big gulp. “No need to be so gruff, Nat, I’m just doing my job. I know you’re mad, but what do you want me to do?” He shrugged. “Ash is gonna fire my ass if there’s another incident like a few weeks ago. I’m making the best of crappy circumstances. Plus, you know I adore you.” He feigned doe eyes, fluttering his eyelashes.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, it becoming painfully clear I wasn’t going to make it to my dressing room I shared with Petal without first dealing with an overly anxious, insanely protective bouncer.

  Staring him straight in the face, I said, “Petey, I’ve been working in strip clubs for what feels like my whole life. I’ve been in and out of VIP rooms for the better part of the last ten years, and doing a damn good job of it. In fact, the rooms I used to work at the Leop make the ones here seem like a cakewalk. So back off, okay?”

  He didn’t. The stubborn man just stood there, holding his ground, staring me down. “No can do, Nat. The boss man laid down the law again on Saturday night. He said keep two eyes glued on you at all times, extra pat-downs and more detailed negotiations for every man or woman entering the VIP room with you. And if we can, keep you out on the open floor.”

  I resisted stomping my foot in a full-blown tantrum like a teenager, but this whole mess was becoming infuriating. I glared at him, maybe even pointed my finger in his face. “Listen to me, you. I have this. No married couple getting their rocks off in the back with me rubbing all over them is going to slow me down. I need the money I make back there. So, just stop.”

  Petey rolled his eyes at me. “They tried to push Ecstasy into your mouth, Nat. On. My. Watch. So no, I can’t just stop.” With that, he ended our little conversation, placed one hand on my waist while he held his coffee in the other, and escorted me to my dressing room.

  He stopped at the door, knocked, making sure Petal was decent if she was in there, and when no reply came from the other side, he opened it, nudged me in, and said, “I’ll be right here. See you when you’re ready to hit the floor.”

  Forget getting the last word, I didn’t get to say anything more. At. All. Those two assholes had me on a tight leash, and they were screwing with my plan.

  YOUNG AND bubbly and perky as hell, Petal was off somewhere, leaving me alone with my thoughts. To think I actually craved her constant squealing and peppy attitude was something new. My stream of consciousness seemed to find its way to the forefront when I was alone, and I didn’t want to go there.

  Years ago, when I agreed to come work for Asher, I knew he was a bit overprotective. But this? This was something altogether different. He had me on complete and total lockdown.

  And now, Sienna finally crushing on some dude had pushed him way over the edge.

  Although Asher’s protective nature had only increased over the last five years, this was outrageous, especially when it came to me. We were sleeping together, but that was all it was—sex.

  Neither of us was looking for some type of forever—definitely not Asher, no matter what he said—so there was no reason we couldn’t be mature adults and have a mutually good time. Something else I told myself, tried to talk my thick head into believing. Particularly after Friday night.

  Regardless of our time on the casting couch, I had to work, and Asher had no right to step on my toes when it came to earning money.

  I started getting ready like I did six nights a week. With tweezers in hand, I inspected my legs, underarms, and bikini area for any stray hairs, smoothed baby oil over my skin, combed my hair before curling it in waves. While waiting for the hot iron to warm up, I stared long and hard in the mirror. I didn’t look too bad for being almost twenty-nine and having a kid. A big kid. Not a toddler, but a boy on the verge of becoming a young man.

  Quinn.

  If I didn’t have Quinn to think ab
out, I would get the hell out of here—fast. Maybe try to do something other than stripping, but really? What else did I know? Nothing. So I was staying for a while longer, putting my money away, and those idiotic men had better let me work. I had an exit strategy, and I would have to do it soon.

  Moving the hot wand through my long dark brown hair, creating cascading waves, highlighting its fullness and golden-red highlights, I turned on my Nataleigh Dallas smile. When I left the Leop, I left my Natasha persona behind. Probably because I wanted to shed myself of everything remotely related to that place.

  Spelling my stage name slightly more seductively seemed like enough at that point. After all, I was a stripper for better or worse, and I was in fact, Natalie. There was nothing to hide, except for my last name. I had Quinn to consider, who I gave my surname, Parker, when he was born. His dad had never been in the picture; I couldn’t exactly attach his name to the birth certificate. My son would come to terms in his own time about my profession. He had a good life, and I hoped he would break free from the Vegas nightlife world, the only life I’ve ever known. Vegas nightlife. In the meantime, I was doing my very best to keep the two separate.

  Nataleigh Dallas stared back at me in the mirror with my very own sea-green eyes, but her gaze was hard, as I’d created her to be, complete with quite the nasty, sordid reputation. Her persona was the reason I was being wooed to Florida.

  I’m certainly not Sienna. I could never pull off that whole “innocent” stripper act.

  I was who I was. A little bit dirty, a whole lot naughty, and one hell of an entertainer in the back rooms for couples, parties, or whatever kind of kinky combination made their way back there.

  Call it jaded, I didn’t care. I looked at it as being smart.

  With my hair finished and down for the evening, I started on my makeup, running my glitter blush softly along my cheekbones, painting my eyelids a smoky taupe, and lining my whole eye in navy kohl pencil. There was nothing innocent about my look. Absolutely zilch.