Even at Your Darkest

by A J Love

  I cringe for the sixth time in the past hour, trying my hardest to ignore what’s happening. I bite on my fist to make sure no involuntary sounds come out.

  This is not good.

  I thought the other day was a one-off when I witnessed them together on my walk home from the store and wasn’t that the day from hell. Another cringe takes over me as I recall the way Kane looked at me in disgust as I blubbered like a baby on the floor. And was I really eating ice cream with nachos? Yes, yes, I was. God, I’m a mess. It just got all too much and I couldn’t deal with him helping me out—again. He must think he lives next to a complete nut job, which probably isn’t all that far from the truth. Doesn’t help that every time I see him, I stare at him like I want to eat him. He must think I have some sort of disorder. Maybe I should tell him that I do as explanation for my weird behavior.

  Noise on the other side of the closet I’m currently hiding in distracts me, bringing me back to my current dilemma. McKenna’s voice is almost unrecognizable as she slurs at Deke, the bar manager, telling him to stop. I watch him through the crack of the door as he backs her against the wall, pressing his body into hers.

  Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Please.

  “Come on, Ken,” Deke says, “You weren’t telling me to stop last night.”

  “Please,” she begs. “Not here. Anyone could see.”

  She has a point. There is a big rule in place at Liquid about relationships with people you work with, for the same reason there is a big rule about having your boyfriends and girlfriends in the building full stop. We’re paid to take our clothes off, to tease the men and women in the room. We’re here to make them spend their money on us, spend money on being with us. Jealous spouses ruin that. These two should know better, which is exactly what I thought when I saw them the other day. Selfish or not, I’m annoyed that I have this knowledge. I feel like it makes me an accomplice of whatever the hell they’re doing, and I don’t like that one bit.

  “What’s up, McKenna?” Deke growls. “Scared people will see you for what you really are? You think you can blackmail me?”

  Shit.

  McKenna’s head is shaking desperately, her eyes wide.

  I wait, rooted to the spot, for what will happen.

  “Think you can threaten to ruin my entire life if I don’t pay you?” he continues, his chest right up against her heaving one. “I’ll fucking ruin you, little girl. I’m not one of your dirty old men, you can’t manipulate me the way you do them.”

  Another sound, from outside the room this time, causes Deke to curse and leave, but not before slamming McKenna’s head into the wall. She slumps to the floor in a heap, a sob escaping her. I wait a couple of seconds before coming out of the closet and standing beside her.

  “Lay, what are you doing here?” She asks me, looking up with her big wide eyes.

  Fucking shoes, McKenna. All I wanted was shoes.

  I drop to my knees. “Stupid girl,” I sigh. “What have you got yourself into?”

  McKenna snorts bitterly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Lay. If they find out, I’m dead. Like really dead.”

  I don’t doubt her words for a second. I’ve heard enough to know that I’m also in a shit position right now. “You have to run,” I say, surprising myself with how serious I am. Her head is shaking but I hold her chin to keep her still. “You need to go home, Ken. Get somewhere safe. Go home to your family.”

  Her head nods slowly and I stand to help her up. She pulls me into a tight hug, mumbling apologies into my hair. When she pulls back, her eyes have a clarity that I haven’t seen in a long time.

  “Layton,” she whispers, whipping her head to the door to check for signs of life. “Don’t trust anyone, okay?”

  She’s out the door then, without another word. I swallow her warning and grab at the heels I came in here looking for in the beginning, then make my way over to the dressing room, not surprised to find Cassie standing there waiting to tell me I’m needed to cover McKenna. For once, I don’t mind it. I only hope she’s on her way out of town now, running far and fucking fast.

  I force her out of my mind and sit myself down to get ready. I need to shake my ass for all it’s worth tonight because I definitely need to make getting a new apartment my priority. Another cringe runs through me. Hopefully, I won’t see Kane again for a while. My avoidance skills are pretty decent to be fair, so I should be okay. I’m going to give myself an aneurism if I live next door to big, hot, and mean, for much longer.

  “Lay, you are fierce out there tonight.”

  I force a grin at Vinny as I sit to touch up my makeup ready for my final set. I dab at the moisture on my forehead and reapply the red lipstick that Ruby is known for.

  “What’s kicked you up the ass tonight?” He asks.

  “I need a new apartment,” I mutter, swallowing the shame.

  “Why? Are you having trouble?” He places a hand on my shoulder and gives me his serious face through the mirror.

  If only you knew.

  I wave him off. “No, nothing like that. It’s just a shithole.”

  “Well, you keep doing what you’re doing, baby, and you’ll be in a penthouse by the end of the week,” he laughs.

  He kisses my hair and moves off to go motivate one of the other girls. Jess drops down onto the seat beside me, kicking off her heels. She’s having a hard time here, struggling to keep up with the pace. Poor girl thinks that every guy who slaps her ass here is in love with her. She’s heartbroken every day.

  “That you done?” I ask, not really interested but feeling awkward with the silence.

  “Yeah,” she sighs. “I’m heading home for a hot bath and a chick flick marathon. They’re animals tonight.”

  I regard her a little, amused. “They’re animals every night.”

  She nods. “I need to get my ass out of here. This shit isn’t for me.”

  She packs up her stuff and hightails it out the door. I wouldn’t be shocked if we never saw her again. I keep that thought to myself though, already uncomfortable with the knowledge of what I saw earlier. I’ll be taking that to the grave. I only hope that it doesn’t put me in that grave.

  Bez calls for me to go back out, so I swallow my pride and head back out to the stage. Time to earn that new apartment.

  It’s almost dawn when I’m finally climbing the stairs up to my apartment. The exhaustion hits me with every step, but I push through it. The three hundred and eighty bucks in my purse makes me feel a whole lot better about it. In fact, I’m actually feeling pretty good, but that could be down to the vodka I chugged with Sasha and the girls after we closed up. We all had a good night tonight, getting lucky when three separate bachelor parties walked through the doors. Cha-ching. So, we celebrated. Something I don’t normally do, and I’m sure to regret when I wake up. Luckily, I’m not due into the store until five for the late shift.

  When I reach the top, I narrow my eyes at the blue door in front of me. I might be a little drunk, but I know I’m not seeing things.

  My door was brown and is currently nowhere to be seen.

  But that’s not what annoys me. What really gets me going is the note stuck to this imposter door.

  I have your new keys. Kane.

  Why can’t he just butt the fuck out? Why can’t I just tell him to do that? Won’t happen. The alcohol in my bloodstream has me feeling more confident than usual though, so maybe I should make full use of it.

  I groan out loud, riding my weird anger, and turn to face his door. That’s it. I knock three times, making sure it’s loud. Nothing. Maybe he’s out? Shit. What if he is? How will I get in then?

  I go to knock again, then almost fall through the doorway as the door is pulled back with force.

  “Where have you been?” He growls.

  I blink a little at his voice. “Excuse me?”

  “Where have you been?” He repeats.

  “Work.”

  “And what is exactly is it that you do? Bec
ause your hours are a joke.”

  Do I tell him? Does it really matter at this point? “I’m a dancer.”

  I watch him process the information, watch him work through it in his mind. I can see him putting it all together: the late hours, the trashy makeup, the fact that my ass is hanging out more times than not.

  “Do you keep your clothes on when you dance?”

  I shrug. “Sometimes.”

  “So, you’re a stripper?”

  His voice is laced with the disappointment I was expecting, and is that fury I can hear also? I shrug it off. “Yeah. Have you got my keys?”

  He pushes by me and over to my door, putting keys in the door and opening it. He holds it wide open. “I’ve been waiting all fucking night to let you in. You could have mentioned you’d be home late.”

  Ah, someone’s extra grumpy when he’s tired. Great.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, and walk over to my place.

  I don’t manage to get the door entirely shut before I throw it open wide again, remembering that I was mad at him first.

  “Wait just one damn minute,” I call to him, flinching a little when he turns back and hits me with his thunder face. Stay strong, Lay. “I never told you to remove my old door and replace it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I told you that I’d fix this and everything fucking else myself.”

  Kane growls and takes step toward me. It's intimidating and sexy all at the same time. He stops when he’s practically standing over me and stares holes through my own eyes. I force myself not to look away, not to fucking run away. He’s so close I can feel his breathing, can feel his air of superiority washing over me. My eyes beg him to stay, dare him to go further. I don’t know why, but I need him to push back. I need him to show me that I’m not alone in thinking about him all the fucking time. My body silently begs him to touch me, the way it always seems to whenever he’s around.

  But nothing.

  He blinks a flash of something other than the usual hardness there and then blinks it away again.

  “Goodnight, Layton,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

  He leaves me then, just walks off, leaving me wet, wanting, and annoyed. “Yeah,” I say back to him, already regretting my words. “Walk away, asshole. You’re good at that.”

  What am I doing?

  He halts his steps.

  I halt my breathing.

  I can’t move, despite a part of me wanting to slam the door shut and hide. When he turns to face me again though, I know. I know that I’m not hiding anywhere. He’s a lion and I’m his prey.

  I’m ready, waiting, and fucking willing to be whatever the hell he wants me to be.

  He’s in front of me again, his lips dangerously close to mine. Just one more inch.

  “I’m not one of the sleazy men who give you cash for taking off your clothes and showing your tits.”

  The insult angers me, fills me with a rage I didn’t know I had. It mixes with my attraction for him dangerously. “That’s fine,” I seethe. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking my clothes off for you or showing you my tits.”

  I push him back and step away from him, turning my back to him and swinging the door closed behind me. Fucking asshole. How dare he look at me all disappointed and angry. He doesn’t know me. Just because he’s taken it upon himself to fix my shithole apartment, does not make him king of my life.

  I toss my purse to the side when I get into my living room, struggling to rein in the sudden fury that’s taken over my body. I strip off my jacket and toss that too, the heat unbearable. Fucking Texas. I walk into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, the vodka in my system starting to wear off and leaving me with just an innate sense of frustration.

  My door slams open as I take a long gulp. I huff out a breath, already knowing who it is from the heavy footsteps. I turn to face away from him, not feeling like I have it in me to go another round with him.

  Maybe he’s come to apologize?

  “Don’t walk away from me again,” Kane snarls.

  Maybe not.

  I don’t answer, just stay staring at the sky out the window.

  “Layton,” he breathes, his chest bumping against my back now, his voice on my neck. “What’s up, sweetheart? Don’t want me anymore?”

  His hand slaps my ass and I chew my lip to stop my moan. I’m supposed to be mad at him, not begging for him. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “No, you want me, don’t you?” He whispers. “I can see it every time you look at me with those big blue eyes of yours.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a gasp when he moves his hand to cup me between the legs. All I’m wearing are high-waisted shorts, which really are no defense against him. He moves his fingers, rubbing along my pussy. My stomach clenches in response, my hands gripping the kitchen sink.

  “You want me here,” he says, and bites my ear. “You want me to take you and fucking own this.”

  My hips buck, pushing my ass further back into him. I can feel him hard behind me, pressing between my ass cheeks. He moves his hand away trailing it along my hips, around to the button of my shorts. I hold my breath as he flicks them undone, releasing it harshly when he rolls them down my legs with my underwear. His hands grip my hips again, forcing them back to him. I get no warning from him before his finger juts inside me, causing me to cry out.

  “That’s it,” he growls, picking up the pace. “Take it, baby.”

  I do, moving against him desperately, needing him more than I need anything else in the world. He pushes in a second finger, stretching me. My head falls back on a moan, all the frustration in my life obliterated by my want for him.

  He withdraws his fingers, the loss of them an ache, and brings them up to my mouth.

  “Taste what I do to you,” he demands, rubbing them over my lips.

  I part them, sucking on his fingers and tasting my attraction for him. He adjusts behind me, and places his free hand on my stomach, pushing me back further. I feel his hardness pressing against me, teasing at my entrance. He removes his fingers, moving his hand back to my hip. I lick at my lips. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on. I can’t think straight. It’s like I’ve been suspended above it all and I’m just watching it play out without having any control over what happens.

  “Is this what you want, Layton?”

  His gravelly voice travels over me. I grind my pussy against him as I hear the tell-tale sound of a foil packet being ripped open.

  “Tell me,” he snaps, his hand slaps at my ass again.

  I moan. “Please,” I rasp.

  That’s all he needs apparently, as he’s slamming his dick into me before I’ve even finished the breath.

  I take the pain of it, revel in it as he pushes his way in and out of me. I lose all ability to talk, to think, to do anything but feel what he’s doing to me.

  His grunts mix with my incoherent begging for more. He complies, taking me harder, higher than I’ve ever been. I tighten my grip to stop me from collapsing to the floor, keeping my eyes screwed shut as my climax rips through me. It takes everything I have and sends me over the edge into an abyss I never knew existed.

  Kane follows me over, stilling inside me with a final thrust.

  Finally, I raise my gaze to the window in front of me, locking my eyes with his in the reflection. He stares hard at me, and I at him. We have no words, nothing to say about what just happened. His breathing is heavy, erratic. It matches my own. This second, this one moment, I see him. I see him without the dark exterior, without the anger and the hate. It’s just him and I.

  I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off by pulling out of me harshly. I wince from the action and swallow the pain. I don’t turn around as I hear him pulling his jeans up, nor as I listen to his steps get further away from me. Only when I hear my door shut, do I allow myself to drop to the floor. The used condom is discarded at my feet. He didn’t even put it into the trash.

  What the hell have I just done?
/>   Kane

  One week.

  It’s been an entire week since I sunk my dick into her and I still can’t get the sex off my damn mind.

  It never should have happened, I should have just left her. I should never have gone into her apartment, and I definitely should never have put my hands on her.

  But, fuck me, she felt good, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t want me too. Oh yeah, she wanted it all right. She was practically vibrating with her need for me.

  Still, I shouldn’t have gone there. I should have held out, found someone else to lose myself in like I have since I met her. I couldn’t help myself. She was just standing right there; all legs and sass and it was so fucking sexy to see her fighting back. I lost control of myself with my need to control her.

  All the resolve I had snapped when I learned she took her clothes off for other people. Other people that aren’t me. Something came over me and I needed to lay claim. I can’t explain it, and I’m an asshole because I haven’t spoken a word to her since.

  Nothing new there.

  “What’s up with your face?” Grip calls at me from where he’s talking shit with Nolan.

  The pair have become a fixture in the shop and won’t fucking leave—ever. If this carries on, I’m going to have to start charging them both rent.

  “He’s a man in love,” Nolan winks. “He gave his cherry to a stripper.”

  Why the fuck did I blab to this dickhead?

  Grip howls with laughter. “You’re fucking kidding?”

  I stare holes through the pair of them. “Haven’t you got anywhere to be?”

  “Not me, bro,” Nolan beams.

  “Me either,” Grip adds.

  “A stripper, really?”

  I turn to my left at the voice, groaning internally when Trevor Summers walks in, the president of the Black Rippers that Grip is linked with.

  “What is this?” I shake my head. “A fucking book club? Do you want me to get you guys a box of wine and put out some snacks?”

  “You’re the one with your dick in your hands right now,” Grip laughs, then turns to Trev. “He’s even more of an asshole than usual today.”