“Stop it,” I say and slap her hand away as she tugs on the top again. She slaps my hand back, playful as ever.
“What can I get ya?” the bartender asks and I turn, my eyes widening in surprise. Damn. Gorrr-geous doesn’t begin to describe him. I glance down at his hands. Rainbow ring. Shit. Figures.
“Six lemon drops,” I say, raising my voice to be heard and he gives me a wink. I turn back to Steph and her eyes are wide and she’s fanning her face. ‘Wow, he’s crazy beautiful,’ her expression says. I nod and take a peek at the bartender’s ass as he bends to grab a glass.
A couple minutes later, I’m handing my credit card to the bar-god when someone reaches over me. “Here, let me get those,” the deep voice says and another credit card is thrust into the bartender’s hand. I look up and a smiling face is looking down at me. Damn … I really hate being this short.
“Please, let me,” he says before I can argue. I catch my breath — was every person in this place struck with the beautiful stick when they were a baby?
Stephanie elbows me and then sticks out her hand. “Thank you,” she says and thrusts one of the drinks at me. Hannah weaves through the crowd, to help carry, I can only assume. Her eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of the guy who is still holding my hand.
“Need help?” she asks, grinning, and Steph hands her two drinks.
Steph gives me an ‘are you coming’ look and I give her a little shake of my head. She gives me a little frown and I frown right back. ‘Okay, okay’, her eyebrows say. Then her eyes shout ‘be careful’ before she turns and weaves through the crowd, glancing back with an ‘I mean it’ look.
“I’m Tanner,” the blond hottie says, lifting his glass to his lips.
“Beth.”
He leans in close and his hand slips to my back, his thumb caressing the bare skin that my strappy dress has exposed. I’d gone shopping yesterday, looking for a new club dress. I’d also gotten some new shoes that didn’t tear into my still healing feet.
“You’re very beautiful. I noticed you the moment you walked in.”
I glance up at him and he seems sincere. He belts back the drink and orders another — crown and coke. I shudder, remembering the hangover I’d gotten from that drink several years ago.
“Want to dance?” he asks and I look out onto the crowded floor. The place is huge and there are people everywhere. But the music is crazy good … driving every person in the place to move.
I nod. “Let me take my drink to my friends,” I shout loud enough to be heard.
“I’ve got a table over there.” He points in the direction of the corner.
No way in hell will I ever drink from a glass that hasn’t been carefully watched. I shake my head and start walking in Steph’s direction, my hand firmly over my glass. A second later, I feel his warm fingers on my back again. I smile. He followed me. I wasn’t sure that he would.
“Watch this for me?” I ask Steph when I find her again. She smiles and her palm flattens over the rim. Tanner tosses back his drink, then sets his empty glass down too. Then he’s pulling me behind him and I’m soon in his arms, grinding to the music.
I like dancing with Tanner. I like the way he keeps me close. And I like the way he slows things down even when the music tempo hasn’t changed. My arms are around his neck and we’re swaying to a rhythm he’s set. Slow and sexy. Perfect.
I look up at him and try to decide. Could I sleep with him? How would it feel to be with someone new? Someone not Gage? He grins at me, and he has a dimple too. I lift my hand and dip a finger into the groove.
I’m bumped from behind and an elbow connects with the back of my head. Tanner pushes off the crazy guy who’s flailing around to the music.
“Are you okay?” Tanner’s hands are in my hair and his fingers are rubbing my skull. I wince when he touches the bruise already forming there. Looking concerned, he propels me through the crowd and to his table where the music isn’t so loud. He lifts a hand to a passing waitress and orders us another round.
“Make mine a double,” he tells her and I look at him closely. He’s already had two crown and cokes that I know of in a very short amount of time. He must have a stomach of steel.
Walking around the small, bartop table, Tanner moves until he’s behind me. “Let me look.” He parts my hair and gently probes my scalp with his fingers. He’s being ridiculous — I wasn’t hit that hard.
I try to pull away, to protest and let him know I’m totally okay.
His fingers grip into my shoulders. “Sit. Let me look.” I stay put, feeling a little embarrassed about how much of a fuss he is making over a little accident. It kinda reminds me of Gage and even Ken, always making sure others are alright.
“Are you in healthcare?” I ask him, pulling his hands away from my head again.
Tanner snorts. “No way.”
I bristle a little at that and am about to ask him what’s so wrong with the health field when the waitress is back with our drinks. He slips his card from his pocket, then seems to change his mind and pockets it again. “One more round,” he tells her.
I begin to protest, but she’s gone and he’s lifting his glass to his lips. He reaches for mine, but I grab it quickly first. He gives me a funny look.
“To new friends,” he says and lifts his gigantic glass. I lift mine and he clinks them together, then turns his up and swallows most of it in one gulp.
“You might want to slow down,” I say and then add, “I got my worst hangover ever off of crown.”
He grins and gives me a little salute. “It’s good stuff. Takes the edge off.”
I look at him curiously. “Why do you have an edge?”
“Part of the job.”
He’s a lawyer. I’d bet a hundred dollars on it. “What’s your job?”
“I’m an attorney.”
Bingo.
I consider telling him that my dad’s an attorney too, but hesitate. He’d know my dad and will either love him or hate him. If he hates him, I’d be back with Stephanie and the girls in just a few minutes. But if he loves him, I’d never get rid of him. He’d be asking me a million questions and wanting me to take him home to meet the infamous Samuel Richards.
“What do you do?” he asks me before I have a chance to decide.
“I’m a nurse.”
He has the grace to look embarrassed. “That’s cool. Which hospital do you work at?”
“I don’t. I work at the HEAL center.”
His mouth twists a little bit, like he’s smelled something bad. Then the glass is at his lips again, draining the crown.
“You don’t approve?” I ask him, curious as to the look.
“Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve just known too many girls who cried rape and the guy gets a sex offender tag for the rest of his life.”
I bristle again and open my mouth to set him straight on a few things, then the waitress is back and sitting down the new round. I snap my mouth shut and slide from my chair.
“Thanks for the drink. I’m going to get back to my friends.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me back to him. “Wait. Don’t go. We’re just getting to know each other.”
I yank my arm away. “Yes. And what I’m getting to know, I don’t like.”
His lip curls up. “Fine. Go. Be a tease. Just like the little rape victims you probably cry with and hold their hands. Bet they are just like you.” His eyes scan me to my toes and back again. “Dress like a slut. Get drunk. Grind on some random guy’s dick all night at a club. But the moment their very obvious yes turns into a little whisper of no, they cry rape. Yeah, you go on back to your friends. Bitch.”
I toss my drink into his face, then punch a fist into his gut. I’ve turned on my heel and am making my way through the crowd before he’s breathing again.
I’m furious. I’ve never been this angry. And I have to fucking pee.
I make a left and weave through the thrashing bodies, deflecting the hands that try to pull me into a dance
. The music is like walking through water, the heavy vibration of the bass clinging to me, pulsing through my system, slowing me down.
I break free from the crowd and almost trip over a dude who’d decided to breakdance unexpectedly. I don’t fall, but lose my shoe. Dammit. I bend over to grab it, but some guy with a huge afro grabs it first. He holds it out, just out of my reach. Grinning. He thinks he’s being cute.
I give him a ‘you really don’t want to do that right now’ stare and his eyes widen and he tosses it to me within seconds. I turn on my heel and limp to a wall, bracing against it and lift a leg to replace the shoe. Then I see him. No them. And my breath leaves my body.
It’s Gage and a gorgeous, tall blonde woman in a silver dress.
I flatten myself against the wall, but I didn’t need to worry. Gage’s eyes never leave her ass. She has him by the hand, leading him somewhere and he is grinning, looking mighty fine in a white button up shirt and black trousers.
They disappear into the mouth of the hallway. Where are they going? I limp over and look around the corner, my shoe still in my hand. They pass the long line of women waiting for the ladies’ room, then pass the two guys waiting for the men’s.
Where are they going?
Curious, I follow, stopping long enough to take off the other shoe. I jump into a doorway when the woman turns and begins to walk backwards. My stomach twists as they stop and she pulls his head down for a kiss.
I should go.
I should turn around and leave.
I know I should.
But I don’t. I peek around the corner and watch. Jealousy stabs at me and I stab it back. I don’t have a right. We’re not in a relationship. We’re both free to see anyone we choose. Hell, I was thinking of screwing another man just a few moments ago.
I hear the woman laugh and then her heels click on the floor again. I step out of my hiding place, intent to go back to Stephanie, but find myself following them instead.
The back offices of the club are a maze and they turn several corners before they stop and I see the woman insert a key into a door. Gage’s hand is on her ass and his mouth is on her bare shoulder.
Jealousy twists again. I want to be her.
The door opens and the woman laughs and takes Gage’s hand, pulling him inside. I’m horrified at myself when I tiptoe down to the door and realize it hadn’t shut all the way.
Leaning forward, I place my eye to the one or so inch crack, my heart hammering in my chest.
I see him, walking her backwards and shoving her hands above her head.
“Harder,” I hear her say, then she cries out for a reason I can’t see.
What am I doing?
“Make it hurt,” I hear her say.
He laughs, a deep vibration that penetrates my uterus.
I look through the crack of the door again.
This is so terribly wrong.
Chapter 15 — Gage
The mystery of the key is solved when Amber stops in front of a door and inserts the one her friend had given her. Apparently, Sophie’s dad is part owner of the club and he has an office somewhere on this floor.
Fuck yeah. This is exactly what I need to get my mind off the heavy shit I’ve been carrying around the past few days.
No strings.
No attachments.
Just sex.
A casual release.
I lean down and kiss Amber’s shoulder and then that sensitive place behind her neck. She pushes back into me. “Mmm,” she moans. I kiss her again.
When the door is open, she pulls me inside and turns into my arms. She exposes her neck to me and I sink my teeth into her throat.
“Harder.”
I bite her again.
I walk her backward until the wall is at her back. Grasping her wrists, I twist them until they’re over her head.
“Fuck me, Gage. Hard. Make it hurt.”
I remember how surprised I’d been the first time she’d asked me to hurt her. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to do. What the limits were. Mine or hers.
But it had been fun experimenting and playing in that world. I’d learned and had found some pleasure in her love of pain. Pleasure in her submission.
It was a nice place to visit, but I didn’t want to live there.
“Take off your dress,” I tell her and let go of her hands.
It doesn’t take much, just one tug of the string around her neck and the dress essentially pools at her feet. She isn’t wearing a bra and the panties are barely a string.
I reach out and palm Amber’s huge breasts. She has implants, I can feel them, like giant balloons in my hands. Beth’s small ones flash across my mind, the soft flesh, the tiny nipples. How responsive they are to the slightest touch.
Dammit. I have to stop thinking about her.
I know what Amber wants, but I make her wait. “Please,” she whispers and licks her lips, her breath coming in little gasps. I cave in and twist her nipples until she cries out in pain.
“More?” I ask her.
Looking at me with those blue eyes, she licks her lips again. “Please.”
She cries out, throwing her head back and digging her nails into my arms. I let go and she whimpers. I twist them once more.
Her fingers lift and she begins to unbutton my shirt. “Tell me what you want,” she says. “I’ll do anything.”
That’s true. She will. Flashes of me tying her up, spanking her, dripping hot wax onto her cross my mind. Anal sex. Double penetration with a dildo. She wants it all. The harder the better.
So, what do I want?
I see Beth again. Lying beneath me. Trusting me enough to take my weight.
I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. Dammit, she’s like a ghost living in my head.
I look at Amber, who’s impatiently waiting for my answer, her fingers going from one button to the next.
“Suck my cock,” I tell her and she smiles, lowering herself to her knees.
Chapter 16 — Beth
I’m hypnotized. Magnetized. Unable to tear my gaze away. I’m appalled and fascinated by what I’m doing, spying on two people having sex. But I’m even more appalled and fascinated by what I’m seeing.
Is this what Gage wants?
To cause pain and have someone follow his orders?
Then why has he been with me? Because I hate pain and would punch the first man who told me what to do in the nose.
Against my will, I flashback to learning about my parents’ playroom for the very first time. I’d always been curious as to what was behind that door, but it had always been locked and the key carefully hidden.
Still. I’d needed to know. I’d craved to know. It had nearly become an obsession.
So I’d done what any sixteen year old would do. I’d gone on YouTube and learned how to pick a lock.
Stupid.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My parents were away for the night when I decided I was brave enough to try my new lock picking skills. It had taken several tries, but I’d done it. And moments later, I really wished I hadn’t.
There were whips hanging from the wall, handcuffs and chains. Leather cuffs and straps. Things I couldn’t name. There was a bed and a bench, and a cross on the wall. Things hanging from the ceiling.
It looked like a torture room. I was sure it was a torture room. I slammed the door, carefully locking it again and ran to my room and cried.
Then, I did what any sixteen year old girl would do. I went on the internet and did some research. I learned about playrooms, BDSM, dominants and submissives. I learned it was a lifestyle that many people enjoyed.
But my parents?
MY mom and dad?
The questions had haunted me.
How long had this been going on?
And the big one … why?
How was whipping someone fun? Or making them bend to your will? I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now. Even when Steph tells me about her and Ken’s
adventures, I smile and nod, but truthfully, I don’t get it.
I remember facing that door a second time, after I’d been armed with internet knowledge. I picked the lock, opened the door and hoped the room wouldn’t look so ghastly.
But it did.
It was just as bad as the first time.
And my parents did stuff together in that room. And later, I learned they did stuff in there with others.
I was sickened by my parents and found it hard to be in their presence for a really long time. I threw myself into basically doing anything they didn’t want me to do. I started to drink, but managed to stay away from drugs. Barely. Instead, I cheered and spent hours at the gym doing gymnastics and dance. I’d stay at my friends’ for days at a time, but never confided what I’d learned to any of them.
It was during that time that I swore no man would ever control me. Then … I was raped. And my need for control in my life had grown even stronger.
It was all consuming. Like a fever raging through my body.
The blonde woman’s moans draw me back to the present and I watch her sink to her knees. A moment later, Gage’s pants are down around his ankles and I’m staring at the tight ass I know so well.
Oh God, no. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to see the man I was so close to falling for have sex with another woman. I can tell myself that I’m progressive and open minded all day long. I can pretend I don’t care what he does or who he does it with.
But I do care and the knife I feel in my gut is evidence of just how deep that caring goes.
How did I allow this to happen?
How did I fall in love with Gage?
And how was I going to fall right back out of it?
Chapter 17 — Gage
Her warm mouth feels so good as she takes me into her throat. Her sucking and licking noises blend perfectly with the moans coming from her chest.
Amber’s so hot. Her mouth. Her hand. The confidence that makes her bold. And her experience … um, plenty of experience. She knows exactly how to use her hand on the part of me she can’t take into her mouth.
Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense) Page 7