by J. R. Ward
Chapter Thirty-seven
At midnight John was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling above him. It was a fancy ceiling, with a lot of molding and stuff around the edges, so there was plenty to look at. It made him think of a birthday cake, actually. No. . . a wedding cake. Especially because in the middle there was a light fixture with a lot of curlicue thingies around it, kind of like what those little bride and groom dolls would go on.
For some strange reason he liked the way it all came together. He didn't know jack about architecture, but he was drawn to the lushness, the stately symmetry, the balance between the ornate and the smooth¡ª
Okay, maybe he was stalling here.
Crap.
He'd woken up about a half hour ago, hit the bathroom, and then gone back between the sheets. There was no class tonight, and he should be catching up on his work before he went out, but that whole textbook thing so wasn't happening.
He had some business to take care of.
Which at the moment was lying rock-hard on his belly.
He'd been hanging in bed debating whether he could do this. What it felt like. Whether he'd even be into it. What if he lost his erection? God, that conversation with Z hung over him. Like if he wasn't. . . successful at it, there might be something wrong with him.
Oh, for fuck's sake, he needed to jump off the bridge already.
John took his hand and put it on his pec, feeling his lungs expanding and contracting and his heart beating hard. With a wince he moved his palm downward, heading for that throb that was literally talking to him, it was so loud. Man, the damn thing was craving sensation, desperate to boil over. And underneath it? His balls were so tight he felt like they were about to crack open from the pressure. He so had to do this, and not just to check that his plumbing was right. The need to release was past the ache stage and into flat-out pain.
His hand hit his belly and he pushed it farther down. His skin was warm and smooth and hairless and stretched over hard muscle and heavy bone. He couldn't get over how big he was now. His stomach seemed to stretch as far as a football field.
He stopped just before he touched himself. Then, with a curse, he grabbed the thing and pulled it.
A moan rumbled out of his chest and leaped from his mouth as his erection kicked in his hand. Oh, shit, that felt good, He repeated the slow tugging motion, sweat breaking out across his chest. He felt like someone had put him under a heat lamp¡ªno, it was more like warmth was radiating from inside of him.
He arched while he stroked himself, feeling guilty and embarrassed and sinfully erotic. Oh . . . so good. . . Settling into a rhythm, he shoved the covers off with his foot and looked down his body. With illicit pride, he watched himself, liking the thick head of him, the outrageous size, the way his hand gripped tight.
Oh. . . fuck. Faster. Faster with his hand. A little clicking noise rose up, the result of the clear, slippery lubricant that came out of the tip getting on his palm. The stuff ran down the shaft, making the erection glisten.
Oh. . . fuck.
From out of nowhere the picture of a female came to him. . . Shit, it was that hard-ass security guard from ZeroSum, and he saw in HD with her man's haircut and her muscled shoulders and her shrewd face and her powerful presence. In a stunning moment of boldness, he imagined the two of them at the club. She had him pressed against the wall, with her hand down his pants and she was kissing him hard, her tongue in his mouth.
Jesus . . . God in heaven. . . his hand moved at blurring speed, his cock hard as marble, his mind filled with the idea of being inside that female.
Critical overload hit when he pictured her breaking off from the kiss and easing down onto her knees. He saw her unzip his pants, take himself out, and suck him into her mouth¡ª
Fuck!
John flipped over onto his side, the pillow getting knocked to the floor, his knees coming up. He shouted without making a sound and jerked around as warm jets went everywhere, landing on his chest and the tops of his thighs and getting on his hand. He kept stroking, eyes nailed shut, veins popping out at his neck, lungs burning.
When there was nothing left in him, John swallowed hard, caught his breath, and opened his eyes. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd come twice. Maybe three times.
Crap. The sheets. He'd made a mess.
Man, it had been worth it, though. That was great. That shit was. . . great.
Except he did feel guilty about what he'd pictured in his mind. He would die if she ever found out¡ª
His cell phone went off. Wiping his hand on the sheets, he picked the thing up. It was a text from Qhuinn, telling him to get his ass to Blay's in a half hour so they could hit ZeroSum before the action dried up.
John hardened again as he thought of the security guard.
Okay, this could turn out to be a pain, he thought as he looked at his erection. Especially if he went to the club and saw that female and. . . yeah, threw a whole lot of wood.
But then, hey, he should look on the bright side: At least his parts were in working order.
John sobered. Yeah, everything worked and he had enjoyed it. . . at least by himself. But the idea of having that go down with someone else?
Still left him cold.
When Phury walked into ZeroSum at about one a. m. , he was glad he wasn't with his brothers. He needed some privacy for what he was going to do.
With grim resolve he went to the VIP section, took a seat at the Brotherhood's table, and ordered a martini, hoping like hell none of the Brotherhood decided to do a fly-by. He would have much preferred to go somewhere else, but ZeroSum was the only place in town that offered what he was looking for. So he was hung.
The first martini was good. His second was better.
As he drank, human women came up to the table. The first was a brunette, so that wasn't happening. Too much like Bella. Next one was blond, which was good. . . but she was the short-haired one Z had once fed from, so that just felt wrong. Then there was another blond who looked so strung out she gave him the guilts, followed by a black-haired one who looked like Xena: Warrior Princess and kind of scared him.
But then. . . a redhead stopped in front of the table.
She was a tiny thing, no more than five-five even with her stripper stillies, but her hair was huge. Dressed in a bubblegum-pink bustier and micromini, she looked like a cartoon character.
"You looking for some play, daddy?"
He shifted in the seat and told himself to quit being picky and get it over with. It was just sex, for God's sake. "Maybe. What's a ticket on the fifty-yard line going to cost?"
She lifted up her hand and touched her lips with two fingers. "For a full game. "
Two hundred bucks to get rid of his virginity. Which boiled down to less than a dollar a year. What a steal.
Phury was half-dead as he got to his feet. "Sounds good. "
As he followed the prostitute to the back of the VIP area, he had some vague thought that in a parallel universe he would be doing this for the first time with someone he loved. Or cared about. Or at least knew. It wouldn't be about a pair of Benjis and a public bathroom.
Unfortunately, he was where he was.
The woman opened a glossy black door and he went in behind her. As he shut them in together the techno music faded a little.
He was nervous as hell as he held out the money.
She smiled up at him as she took it. "I'm not going to mind this with you at all. God, that hair. Is it extensions?"
He shook his head.
When she reached for his belt he took a knee-jerk step back and banged into the damn door.
"Sorry," he said.
She gave him a strange look. "No problem. This your first time with someone like me?"
Try anyone. "Yeah. "
"Well, I'm going to take good care of you. " She stepped in close to him, and her big breasts pressed into his belly. He glanced down at her head. She had dark
roots that showed on top.
"You're a big one," she murmured, tucking one hand into his waistband and tugging him forward.
He went with her with the grace of a robot, all numbed out and unable to believe he was going to do this. But really, how else was it going to happen?
She backed up against the sink and in a quick, practiced hop got herself up on the counter. As she spread her legs, her skirt rose. Her black thigh-highs were topped with lace. She wasn't wearing panties.
"No kissing, of course," she murmured, dragging his fly down. "On the mouth, that is. "
He felt cool air slip inside then her hand went into his boxers. He flinched as she took hold of his cock.
This was what he came here for, he reminded himself. This was what he'd bought and paid for. He could do this.
It was time to move on. From Bella. From the celibacy.
"Relax, lover," the woman said in a raspy voice. "Your wife is never going to know. My lipstick is eighteen-hour smudge-proof, and I don't wear perfume. So you can just enjoy yourself. "
Phury swallowed. I can do this.
As John got out of the dark blue BMW, he was sporting a spanking-new pair of black trousers, a black silk shirt, and a cream suede jacket built on the lines of a blazer. They weren't his clothes. Like the car that had driven both him and Qhuinn downtown, they were Blay's.
"We are so ready for this," Qhuinn said as they walked across the parking lot.
John glanced back at the place where he'd taken out those lessers. He remembered the power he'd felt, the conviction that he was a fighter, a warrior. . . a Brother. That was all gone now, as if something else had been at work inside of him then, like he'd been possessed or something. As he walked with his friends now, he felt like a whole lot of nothing special duded up in his buddy's fancy threads, his body a bag of water, sloshing around with every step he took.
When they came up to ZeroSum, John headed for the back of the wait line, but Qhuinn spun him to a halt. "We got an in, remember?"
They sure as hell did. The minute Qhuinn dropped the name Xhex, the piece of mountain at the door snapped to attention and spoke into his earpiece. A split second later he stepped aside. "She wants you in the back. VIP. You know the way?"
"Yeah. Sure," Qhuinn said as he slipped the guy a handshake.
The bouncer put something in his pocket. "You come here again, I'll let you right in. "
"Thanks, man. " Qhuinn clapped the guy on the shoulder and disappeared into the club, smooth as anything.
John followed, not even trying to pull off Qhuinn's swagger. Which was a good thing. As he headed in through the door, he hit the step up wrong, listed to port, then fell backward as he fought to stay upright, slamming into a guy in the wait line. The man, who had his back to the door because he was hitting on a chick, wheeled around, all pissed off.
"What the f¡ª" The guy froze as he looked at John, his eyes popping. "Ah, yeah. . . my bad. Sorry. "
John faltered at the reaction until he felt Blay's hand land on the back of his neck. "Come on, John. Let's go. "
John let himself get led inside, bracing for the onslaught of the club's vibe, ready to get lost in the crush of people. It was funny, though. As he looked around, everything seemed less overwhelming. Then again, he was measuring the crowd from a vantage point of about six-foot-seven.
Qhuinn looked around. "To the back. Where the hell is the back?"
"I thought you knew?" Blay said.
"Nah. Just didn't want to come off as an idiot¡ªWait, I think we have a winner. " He nodded to a roped-off area that had two huge guys standing in front of it. "That just screams VIP. Ladies, shall we?"
Qhuinn walked over like he knew exactly what he was doing, said two words to the bouncer, and whaddaya know, the rope was down and the three of them were parading in.
Well, Blay and Qhuinn were parading. John was trying not to run into anyone else. He'd lucked out that the guy at the door had been some kind of pansy. Next time he'd probably manage to land on a hit man. Who was armed.
The VIP section had its own private bar and bartenders, and its waitresses were dressed like high-class strippers, showing a lot of skin as they went around on a lot of heel. The male patrons were all in suits, the women in expensive bits of nothing much. It was a fast, flashy crowd. . . that made John feel like a total poser.
There were banquettes on both sides of the room, three of which were open, and Qhuinn picked the one farthest back, in the corner.
"This is the best," he pronounced. "Next to the emergency exit. In the shadows. "
There were two martini glasses on the tabletop, but they sat down anyway, and a waitress came over to clear. Blay and Qhuinn ordered beers. John passed, thinking he needed to stay tight tonight.
They'd been chilling for no less than five minutes, Blay and Qhuinn barely getting a start on their Coronas, when they heard a female voice say, "Hey, daddies. "
All three of them looked up at the blond Wonder Woman standing in front of them. She was a knockout in a very Pam Anderson kind of way, more breast than anything else.
"Hey, baby," Qhuinn drawled. "What's your name?"
"I'm Sweet Charity. " She put both hands on the table and leaned in, flashing her perfect chest and her tanning-salon skin and her gleaming, bleached teeth. "Want to know why?"
"Like I want my next breath. "
She bent down a little farther. "Because I taste good and I'm a giver. "
Qhuinn's tight smile was all about sex. "Then come over and sit by me¡ª"
"Boys," came a deep voice.
Oh, Jesus. A huge guy had come up to their table, and John didn't think it was a good thing. With a beautiful black suit and a pair of hard amethyst eyes and a cropped mohawk, he looked like both a thug and a gentleman.
Okay, that was a vampire, John thought. He wasn't sure exactly how he knew, but he was sure of it and not just because of the size thing. The guy just gave off the same vibe as the Brothers did: power in check on a hair trigger.
"Charity, you mine elsewhere, feel me?" the male said.
The blonde seemed a little bummed as she pulled back from Qhuinn¡ªwho was looking pissed. Except then she trotted off and. . . well, shit, pulled the same routine two banquettes down.
As Qhuinn's expression lost some of its edge, the mohawked male bent down and said, "Yeah, she wasn't just after the pleasure of your company, big man. She's a pro. Most of the women you see walking around in this section are. So unless you want to pay for it, go out to the open-access area, pick up a few, and bring them back here, deal?" The guy smiled, flashing a tremendous set of fangs. "By the way, I own this place, so while you're here I'm responsible for your asses. Make my job easy and keep righteous. " Before he turned away, he looked at John. "Zsadist said to say hello. "
He left on that note, checking out everything and everybody on his way to an unmarked door in the back.
John wondered how the guy knew Z, and figured that no matter the connection, that mohawked brass-baller was definitely someone you wanted on your side.
Otherwise you might want to pick up a Kevlar bodysuit.
Or better yet, leave the country.
"Well," Qhuinn said, "that's an important tip. Shit. "
"Um, yeah. " Blay shifted in his seat as another blonde strolled by. "So. . . um, you want to head out to the floor?"
"Blay, you little slut. " Qhuinn hustled out of the banquette. "Of course I do. John¡ª"
I'm going to hang here, he signed. You know, save our table.
Qhuinn clapped him on the shoulder. "Fine. We'll bring something back from the buffet for you. "
John frantically shook his head, but his buddies just turned away. Oh, God. He should have stayed home. He so should have skipped this.
As a brunette waltzed by he glanced down quickly, but she didn't stop, and neither did any of the others¡ªlike the owner had told all the women to leave them
alone. Which was a relief. Because that brunette? Looked like she could eat a man alive, and not necessarily in a good way.
Crossing his arms over his chest, John leaned back in the leather seat and kept his eyes on the beers. He could feel people staring at him. . . and no doubt they were wondering what the hell he was doing here. Which made sense. He wasn't like Blay and Qhuinn and couldn't front like he was. All the music and the drinking and the sex didn't energize him; they made him want to disappear.
He was thinking seriously of bailing when a blast of heat hit him, like from out of nowhere. He looked up to the ceiling, wondering if he was sitting under an air vent and the furnace had just come on.
No.
He glanced around¡ª
Oh, shit. The head of security was coming through the VIP section's velvet rope.
As the dim overhead lights hit her, John swallowed hard. She was in the same outfit as before, wearing a muscle shirt that showed off her powerful arms and a pair of leathers that were tight over her hips and long thighs. Her hair had been trimmed since he'd seen her, the brush cut gleaming.
The second her eyes met his he looked away, his face the color of a fire engine. In a panic he convinced himself that she was going to know what he'd done when he was thinking of her earlier today. She was going to know he. . . came while she was on his mind.
Damn it, he wished he had a drink to play with. And a cold pack for his cheeks.
He grabbed Blay's beer and took a swig as he sensed she was coming this way. Man, he couldn't decide whether it would be worse if she stopped. Or didn't stop.
"Back again, but looking different. " Her voice was low, like a banked fire. And made his blush worse. "Congratulations. "
He cleared his throat. Which was stupid. Like he could say anything?
Feeling the fool, he mouthed the words, Thank you.
"Your friends go trolling?"
He nodded and took another pull on the Corona.
"Not you, though? Or are they bringing you something?" That amazing voice of hers was pure sex, making his body tingle. . . and his cock stiffen. "Well, in case you didn't know, the bathrooms back there have some extra room and extra privacy. " She laughed a little, as if she knew he was aroused. "Have fun with the girlies, but keep tight. Then you won't have to deal with me. "
She walked away, and as she went the crowd parted for her, men big as football players getting out of her way. As John watched her go, he felt a sharp shooter in the front of his trousers and looked down. He was rock-hard. Thick as his frickin' forearm. And as he shifted in the seat, the friction of his pants made him bite down on his lower lip.
He put his hand underneath the table with the intention of moving things around down there so he could get some more room behind his fly. . . but the instant he came into contact with his erection, the image of that security guard popped back in his mind and he nearly lost it. He whipped his palm back so fast it banged into the underside of the table.
John rolled his hips, looking for relief but making the burn worse. He was itchy and dissatisfied, his mood quickly getting a dangerous edge. He thought about the release he'd given himself in his bed and decided that he could use another. Like now.
Like right now, before he came again.
Shit, maybe he could take care of himself here. With a frown, he looked over to the hallway that disappeared into the back and had doors on either side.
One of which happened to open.
A small redheaded woman who looked like a professional came out fluffing her hair and rearranging her bright pink getup. Right behind her was. . . Phury?
Yeah, that was definitely him, and he was tucking his shirt into the waistband of his slacks. The two didn't say a word to each other: The woman went to the left and started talking up a group of men; the Brother kept walking forward, like he was on his way out.
When Phury looked up, John locked eyes with him. After an awkward moment the warrior lifted his hand in greeting, then took off for a side exit, disappearing outside. John swigged up some more beer, utterly stunned. Sure as hell that woman hadn't been in a bathroom with the guy because she was giving him a back-rub. God, he was supposed to be celi¡ª
"And this is John. "
John jerked his head around. Whoa. Blay and Qhuinn had struck gold. The three human women with them were all very pretty and mostly undressed.
Qhuinn pointed to each of them. "This is Brianna, CiCi, and Liz. Girls, this is our man John. He uses sign language to talk, so we'll translate. "
John finished off Blay's beer, feeling like a jerk as the communication barrier reared its ugly-ass head again. He was thinking about how to word his I'm-going-to-bail speech when one of the girls sat next to him, trapping him in the banquette.
A waitress came by and took orders, and after she left all this chatter and giggling sprang up, the girls' high notes mixing in with Qhuinn's deep voice and Blay's shy, low laugh. John kept his eyes down.
"God, you are so good-looking," one of the girls said. "Are you a model?"
The conversation abruptly lagged.
Qhuinn rapped his knuckles on the table in front of John. "Yo, J. She's talking to you. "
John lifted his head in confusion, meeting his buddy's mismatched eyes. Qhuinn nodded pointedly toward the girl next to John, then bugged out his peepers, a kind of Would you get with the program here, my man?
John took a deep breath and glanced to his left. The girl was staring up at him with. . . shit, absolute starstruck devotion.
" 'Cause you are, like, so beautiful," she said to him.
Holy Christ, what did he do with that?
As the blood hit his face and his body tensed, he signed quickly to Qhuinn, I'm going to have Fritz pick me up. I've got to go.
John beat feet out of the banquette, half trampling the girl who'd sat next to him. He couldn't wait to get home.