In a Bad Way

by Karin Tabke

  Chapter Seven

  As much as he was a first with Pink, she was the first of several with Flynn. She was the first woman who had drugged him. The first woman he’d slept with, and now, a third first. In all of the years of his sexual encounters, whether he’d gone back to the lady’s house, took her to a hotel room, or found a secluded spot, Flynn always showered when he got home. Primarily because once the deed was done, he didn’t like to linger and get sucked into staying longer than he was comfortable.

  Pink’s curvy little body molded tightly to his much taller frame. His protective nature surged as he thought of any man attempting to hurt her. She clasped his face in her hands and hungrily ate at his lips. He was rock-hard and dying to get inside of her, but little Miss Pink had other plans. She broke their kiss and slid down his chest to her knees. Hot water ran down his body as her hands slid along the front of his thighs. She looked up at him, blinking back the water. “I’ve never tasted a man before. I’m not sure what to do.”

  Flynn’s heart slammed hard against his chest as he fought to breathe. She was so innocent and so…fresh. There was no treachery behind her expressive eyes, only curiosity mingled with a desire for him that was matched only by his desire for her.

  Her lips pursed as she waited for instruction. The vision of them locked around his straining cock tightened his balls.

  “Christ, Pink, just do what comes naturally, you’ll know if you’re on the right track.”

  Sliding her fingers up his thighs, she caught his shaft between her hands and slid them down to his balls. “Yeah, that’s a good start,” he hissed, reaching up and grasping the metal curtain rail. He closed his eyes when her lips brushed the wide head. Her tongue slid across and around the eye. Tension drew his body taut. With her right hand, she cupped his balls and with her left hand, she stroked him, and with that lovely tongue, she licked him like a dripping ice cream cone. He looked down at her and he nearly lost it. There was something sublimely sensual about the way her slender fingers and pink tongue looked against his erection. The thick veins bulged with blood. She looked up at him and smiled as she licked the underside of his head.

  “You’re a natural, baby,” he groaned.

  Closing her eyes, took him into her mouth, and sucked. God damn, she’d just started and he was going to come. His fists tightened around the metal rack, and his hips moved in a slow deep cadence to her lips, tongue, and hand. She seemed enamored with his cock. She stroked him while she sucked and tongued him, cupping his balls, making little sounds of contentment.

  He’d been fellated before; most of the time it had been good. But it had never been performed with such uninhibited relish. That she enjoyed pleasuring him like this made him harder. His knuckles whitened as she took him deeper down her throat. He watched her suck him so hard her cheeks hollowed, her hand stroking him at the root, her other hand massaging his heavy sack in perfect rhythm with her sucking.

  Water plastered her hair to her head, spiking her long black lashes. He couldn’t help it when his hands dropped to her head and he thrust deeply into her mouth. She took all he had, working him into a hot frenzy. Flynn threw his head back, closed his eyes, and set his jaw.

  “I’m going to come, Pink,” he rasped. “If you want me inside you, stop or…” She squeezed his balls and sucked harder as she took him deeper. “Ah, God, fuck,” he cursed and his semen shot out from him like a striking serpent. His hips jerked hard as his ejaculate spurted in thick streams. Slowing her pace, she relaxed her lips, but she kept him in her mouth until she had milked every drop of what he had left.

  He was sweaty under the shower stream. His knees were weak, he felt like he’d just hit the lottery, and he was clueless as to what to do next. He reached down, pulled her up to his chest, and did what came instinctively to him, wrapped his arms around her, allowing the warm rush of water to rinse them. He stood with her like that for a long time before she broke away and lathered them both up. When she stood up on her toes and squirted bubble gum scented shampoo on his head, he came out of his daze. She dug her nails into his scalp and scrubbed, then rinsed his hair. She did the same thing with his body, taking a pink loofah and squirting some girly-smelling stuff on it, and from his head down to his toes, she lathered him up and loofahed every inch of him. It felt good to be tended to like this by her. She did it like she cared, not as if it was a chore. He scowled.

  “What’s the scowl for?” she asked. “I just gave you an epic blow job, now I’m washing you like a baby, and you have the nerve to scowl?”

  He smiled despite the anxious buzz in his belly. “It was epic.”

  This thing between them had to end. Here. Today. He wasn’t a forever guy and if he stuck around, she’d think they had something.

  “You’re thinking about how you can slip out of here gracefully, aren’t you?” she asked, looking up at him. Most women would be scrambling for ways to entice him to stay at this point. But not this tiny dancer. He knew she’d show him the door without so much as a, “Will I see you again?”

  Once again her candor surprised him. As she rinsed him, he nodded.

  “You can stop thinking about how to pull it off right now. You’re free to go. I won’t stop you.” Casually, as if they always took a shower together, she lathered herself up and quickly rinsed off. Once done, she reached past him and turned the shower off. Pushing the shower curtain aside, she grabbed a towel off the rack and handed it to him, then grabbed one for herself. Deftly she toweled off and stepped from the tub, wrapping the towel around her, and walked into the bedroom. When he followed several seconds later to make sure she didn’t snatch his wallet with the SIM card in it, he found her pulling on a Hello Kitty T-shirt that came to her knees.

  Morning sunlight streamed through the shutter slats. Running her fingers through her short hair like a comb, she moved about the room, picking up his slacks, shirt, underwear, and socks, and laying them neatly on the bed. He stood at the threshold, not knowing what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t. He was already in too far.

  Walking past him she said, “I’ll make you a coffee to go. I’d offer you some breakfast, but I don’t cook and besides, the cupboards are pretty bare. I haven’t gone shopping in a while.”

  “Coffee would be good,” he said and thought how lame that sounded. Lamer still was how he was feeling, like some lovesick teenager. Shake it off, Flynn. She’s a stripper who tried to drug you. Yeah, she was a lot of fun, now move on. It wasn’t going to be that easy if what she’d told him about Boris was true. He’d promised to help her. He always kept his promises. He just needed to find a way to do it and not get sucked deeper into her stripper snare.

  As he dressed, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filtered back to him. He lived on that stuff. A moment later when he strode into the small kitchen, he looked around and nodded in approval. Like her bedroom, it was clean, bright, and tidy.

  Handing him a plastic “To Go” cup full of hot coffee, she walked to the kitchen door and opened it. “Thanks for doing the honors last night, Slick. No hard feelings about me trying to drug you?”

  He sipped the coffee, but didn’t move toward the door. “This is good.”

  “One of my few splurges, Jamaican Blue Mountain. Best coffee ever.”

  “I want to know more about Boris’s motives regarding the blackmail video.”

  “I have no idea what he wants it for and since you took my SIM card and I have nothing to give him, I’m kind of screwed in that regard.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Did he threaten you if you didn’t deliver?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. I’ll find out when I go in.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t go back there.”

  She burst out laughing and mockingly repeated his words, “'I’d rather you didn’t go back there.’ Since when do you have a say in my life?”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “Yeah, well, so is your job, but you don’t see me telling you what to
do. How ludicrous is that?”

  “I’m a trained professional, you’re not.”

  “The hell I’m not. I make more tips in one night than all of the other cocktailers combined. I’m damn good at what I do and while you might think I’m naïve, I’m far from it. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She moved in on him and gave him a push. “Now go, and please don’t come back unless you have information about my sister.” When he didn’t move, she pushed him with more conviction out the door, and closed it loudly behind him. The harsh slide of the deadbolt hitting home struck him like a lightning bolt in the gut.

  Chapter Eight

  Izzy stood staring at the closed door and the shadow of the man standing on the other side of it through the beveled glass panes. He hadn’t moved since she’d shoved him out five minutes ago. She wished he’d just go.

  Liar, liar pants on fire.

  “If you don’t leave, the neighbors are going to think you’re stalking me,” she called.

  “They’d be right,” he said, but didn’t move from the small porch.

  Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost eight. Where had the morning gone? Orgasmland, that’s where, damn it. Her stomach growled. She’d left without her tips last night, which meant she’d get even less than she’d actually earned. Andre would have double-dipped. He was such a turd. She had less than twenty bucks in her account and… She opened the fridge and scowled. One egg, an orange, and a slice of cheese food. Her lip curled. Who the hell were they kidding? There was as much cheese in the plastic-wrapped sliver of hydrogenated rubber as there was in the orange next to it. Exhaling loudly, she reached in and took the meager selection out. It would have to do. As she set the items down on the counter, an intense wave of loneliness hit her.

  She missed her mom. It had been eight years since she died. It seemed like yesterday. She’d stopping missing Alex when, after years of trying to connect, and years of nothing, she’d let it go. She’d been solo since she was sixteen.

  Glancing at the door, Izzy’s belly did a slow nauseous roll. The shadow was gone. And she was solo once again.

  Was she that forgettable? Unlocking the door, she peeked out to find an empty driveway. Apparently she was. So much for reading that all wrong. She thought there had been a connection there.

  Slowly, Izzy closed the door. Leaning against it, she yearned for her special Special Agent. No, 86 that, she ached for him. His body. His brain. The way he held her. His smile and dios mio, the way he made her feel. Like the most exquisite creature on earth. But he was gone—poof. Just like that, the light he had lit inside her was gone, too.

  Good riddance, she told herself. “I don’t need a stuffy fed who can’t see past his ego.” He had a problem with her being a stripper? Screw him. Seriously; she wouldn’t hold it against him if he was a stripper! Well…not much. Okay, maybe she’d have some jealousy issues. I mean who would want their man shaking their bacon and being mauled by sex-starved women for a living? So yeah, she could see how her act de jour might bother him. If she was his woman. Which she wasn’t.

  She was just the chick who’d tried to drug him and make a sex video. She was damn lucky he hadn’t arrested her. Yet, in hindsight, she’d do it again. Not because she felt some sense of obligation to Alex, but because she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she hadn’t tried. It was basic human courtesy.

  At least that’s what she told herself. But the phone call she’d received over three months ago continued to play as a constant reel in her head.

  Izzy didn’t receive many calls, but when the phone rang, she knew who was calling before she answered, so when she saw the 510 area code number that she didn’t recognize, she’d debated answering. Probably a bill collector hounding her.

  Her gut screamed to let it go, but something else told her to answer:

  “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Answer me or I’m hanging up.”

  “SeeSee,” the voice sobbed. “Is that you?”

  Izzy stiffened at the endearment. SeeSee was what her half sister, Alex had called her when they were growing up because she couldn’t pronounce sister. The irony was that they didn’t know they were actually sisters until they were eleven, the day Izzy learned that Alex’s father was also her’s. Yup, Izzy was born a cliché. Her dad the rich and powerful lord of the manor was boinking the nanny at the same time he was boinking his wife. Dude was eating his Wheaties. Alex was just six months younger than Izzy.

  “Please, SeeSee, I need help!”

  “Then call someone who cares.”

  Izzy was about to hang up when Alex said, “We are sisters!”

  “Half sisters. My enemies have been nicer to me than you have, Alex.”

  “I couldn’t reach out, Mother was always watching.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I paid a PI a hundred bucks to track you down.”

  “So you found me, now forget me. I forgot about you a long time ago.”

  “SeeSee please—”

  “Stop calling me that! I’m not your sister anymore.”

  “Iz, I think someone’s trying to kill me. I don’t know what to do!”

  Alex’s words shook Izzy’s resolve, but she held steadfast to her guns. She was over being shunned by what was left of her blood family.

  “Call daddy dearest. He’ll fix it just like he always does.”

  The pause that followed was so long, Izzy thought Alex had hung up.

  “Alex?”

  “I think it’s him,” Alex whispered, her voice trembling. “Someone’s coming, I have to go. Please say you’ll help me.”

  “Him who? Who’s him?”

  “Meet me, please.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Surf’s Up in the city, but I can leave early and meet you at Café Bellatrix on Geary. In an hour okay?”

  Izzy squeezed her eyes shut. Every part of her screamed this was a huge mistake. Getting involved with Alexandra Chastain, her half sister and only surviving child of Senator and Mrs. Chastain, would set her up for more hurt. She’d moved on, and she didn’t want to rip open that scab of her former life.

  “SeeSee?”

  “I’m sorry, Alex, but I can’t.”

  “I’m your only living blood! See, please. Don’t desert me when I need you the most.”

  “It’s what you did to me. Don’t call me again.”

  That was the last time she’d spoken to Alex. For the following three days she replayed the conversation in her head. For those three days she debated calling her back. On the fourth day, she called the number. It had been disconnected. On the fifth day, she applied at the Surf’s Up and was hired on the spot. Izzy didn’t know any more today about what had happened to Alex, with the exception of what she learned last night about the video scheme she’d participated in, then she did the day she was hired. It was as if Alex had disappeared into thin air.

  Taking a bowl from the cabinet, Izzy cracked the egg against the edge so hard it splattered on the counter, the yolk and whites full of shell. “Oh, hell,” she cursed and shoved it away. Grabbing the piece of cheese and the orange, she plopped down on the chair at the little table and peeled the plastic off the cheese food. Just as she took a bite there was a knock at the back door. She jerked her head back and the cheese caught in her throat when she recognized the tall silhouette. He’d come back.

  Coughing, she gulped a sip of hot coffee and cringed as it burned going down.

  “Go away,” she called, wishing he’d burst through the door and tell her he was never leaving. She was crazy. Cray-zee. She needed to focus. She’d lived without sex for twenty-four years and she’d live another twenty-four without it if she had to. Her priorities were simple: Find Alex, start law school in the fall, graduate with honors, then get a job and support herself, depending on no one for anything. Ever.

  “I’m hungry,” Flynn said from the other side of the door. He sounded pouty. It made her smile.


  “There’s a Denny’s down the street.”

  “I don’t want to go alone.”

  “There’re plenty of hookers on the other end of 34th who would be happy to accompany you.”

  “I don’t want a hooker, I want a stripper.”

  Izzy smiled. “This stripper doesn’t do mornings after.”

  “How can you say that when this is your first morning after?”

  “It’s a rule I just instituted.”

  He opened the door and walked in. Damn, she forgot to lock it when she’d gone to see if he was lingering in the driveway. He looked so damn hot she about launched into him. His hair wasn’t all perfect like it had been at the club. It was dry and though short, it was tousled and sexy. He hadn’t shaved and the stubble on his face accentuated his sensuality. Those ridiculous electric blue eyes focused intently on her. Damn, he was good looking. That face, coupled with that tall athletic body of his, made a woman think twice about the consequences of just going with it for as long as she could.

  “You look better without all that makeup,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb at the threshold. That was the second time he had told her that. She was a “less is more” kind of girl when it came to cosmetics. Except when she was at the club. Then she caked it on to change her features, so as not to be recognized in public. She’d never come face-to-face with a club patron, so she didn’t know how well her camouflage worked.

  “You look better not all slicked up.” She grinned again. “I bet you rock the hell out of a suit.”

  He grinned back. “I’m hungry.”

  “So you’ve said.”