“Told you, I know the owners. There are . . . private places around here,” he says, and I dismiss it. Fuck, I don’t care if he takes me into the VIP bathroom. I’ll take it right now.
The show is about to start for the band. I’m gonna miss it but I don’t care. He takes me through a door and into a hallway. We come up to another door, and like magic, he produces a key to get in. Before I can ask him why he has a key, he’s on me like a dog in heat, pushing me up against the wall and devouring my mouth in a hungry, fiery kiss.
Our lips crash together, and he’s doing crazy things to my body, his hands roaming over my dress and lighting my skin on fire.
“Take me,” I moan, my thighs trembling with need. Ten long months. And if that huge, hard cock pressing against my thigh is any indication, I want it right fucking now.
“Not here,” he half-moans, half-slurs in lust, stepping back and taking me by the hand. He leads me down the darkened hall to a room. He opens the door and turns on the light. It’s a medium-sized room with a bed and some rugs in the center. What the fuck is a bed doing back here?
But I don’t care about that. I want him.
He’s back on me again, and we’re kissing, his hands tugging on my dress. With every inch of my skin that’s exposed, the fire in my stomach grows as I feel all the sexual frustration start to boil over.
“I’m gonna give you a night to remember,” I growl in his ear as I pull off his shirt. “You’ll never forget Roxy.”
Damn, call the exorcist. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like the devil himself has possessed my body.
I rip off his shirt with an animalistic snarl. The air freezes in my lungs when I see the hard abs of his stomach. He wasn’t fucking lying about being the man of steel. The rest of him has to be pure perfection.
“Your tits are amaaazing,” he says, his slur growing, his hands squeezing my breast weakly.
What the fuck? Damn, how is he drunk already? He only had that one beer. I pay it no mind. I push him back onto the bed, tugging my skirt up to my waist and mounting his hips, feeling the hard bulge of his groin rub against my panties.
“Fuuuuuck, baby,” he moans. His voice is sluggish. “I love how aggressive youuuu are . . .”
“Shh, baby,” I tell him, slipping my dress down and showing him my breasts, turning my dress into just a band around my waist. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
I swear it looks like he’s fighting to stay awake. But I don’t need long to send him to heaven. I trail my hands down his abs and down to his happy trail. Reaching his belt, I hungrily unbutton his pants.
“Baaaby . . .” he moans, almost like he’s gasping for air. I take the gasps as if he can't wait to be inside me. Fuck, I can’t either.
I get his pants down and am about to pull his cock out and slide on a condom when he grabs onto my breasts with the force of Zeus. He holds tight and lets out an unearthly gasp, his eyes fluttering.
I stare down at him in shock as he takes one last breath and then seems to go unconscious.
“What the fuck?” I know I was about to give him the most glorious send-off he ever had, but did he really just pass out? “Hello?”
It takes some effort, but I’m able to disengage his death grip from my breasts. They ache, and I wonder if I’m going to have a few bruises on them tomorrow. “Hello?” I repeat, leaning in closer. “Jake?”
I shake him, and when he doesn’t respond, I give him a little slap on the face. He doesn’t move at all, and fear starts to clench in my belly.
Hands shaking, I place my hand on the side of his neck. I don’t feel anything, and I’m getting more worried. What the fuck?
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare down at him in disbelief.
The Man of Steel is dead.
Roxy
“What do you mean, he’s dead?” Hannah yells into the phone. In the background, I can hear the bass of the club music, although it’s nowhere near as fast or as powerful as what’s in my chest. My heart’s pounding a thousand beats a minute, and it feels like I have a jackhammer going off inside me.
“I-I-I don’t know, he just—”
In panic, I pump Jake’s chest furiously. When that doesn’t work, I bitch slap him across the face with as much force as I can muster. “Wake up, bitch!” I yell. He doesn’t stir, and I slap him again. Still no response, and I stare in disbelief at his still body. How the fuck is this even possible? Is my pussy kryptonite or something?
The first night out, I fucking kill a man. Just my luck!
“Roxy, stop it!” Hannah shouts over my panicked gibbering. “Where the hell are you?”
“I don’t know,” I moan, moving away from Jake and trying desperately to remember how I got here. “Somewhere in the back. We started to—and then he grabbed my boobs and . . . oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!”
“Stop babbling! You’re not making sense!” Hannah snaps. She gives me a moment, then continues. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Taking a deep breath, I relay everything back to her. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you out of the house!” Hannah snarls when I’m done. “The first guy you see, you go and fuck him to death!”
“Hannah!” I wail in protest, feeling tears sting my eyes. That one stung. I didn’t mean to kill this fine specimen! I was being sarcastic before!
A lump forms in my throat. She’s definitely not making this any better. “I don’t know why or how this happened, but please—”
“Never mind that,” Hannah says, hearing my pain. “Listen, I’m sure you’re overreacting. He’s probably passed out drunk. You said he started slurring, right?”
I glance over at Jake. He still has his color, but I’m afraid to go back over there. “Doesn’t look dead. But I didn’t feel a pulse.”
“Just go check, God damn it!” Hannah roars.
“All right, all right, geez. If I ever have a heart attack, you’ll be the last person I call.” Sucking in a deep breath, I go back over to the bed. I force myself to stare at him. Just when I’m about to give up, I see . . .
“Oh, God!” I cry out. “He still has a hard-on!”
“He has angel lust!” Hannah gasps before laughing. “Damn, girl, you weren’t messing around.”
My face pinches into a frown. This isn’t the time for bullshit. “What the hell is angel lust?”
“When dead guys have a hard-on,” Hannah says. “A lot better than calling it zombie cock, in my opinion.”
I almost gag. Just great, not only did I kill a guy, but I left him with a big, hard, raging boner. I can just see the news now—Horny office drone kills handsome eligible bachelor and leaves him with a big, hard dick. Film at eleven!
I take a deep breath and grab his wrist. I move my fingers around frantically, trying to find a pulse. Suddenly, I feel it!
“He has a pulse!” I nearly scream, sweat breaking out on my forehead as I’m overcome with joy. “He’s alive! Alive!” I don’t mean to, but I sound like a Frankenstein movie.
Now that I’m more coherent, I can see his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths, so faint that I can see why I missed it before.
“Jesus, Rox! Don’t do that ever again!” Hannah yells before laughing. “You got me all worked up over here! Oh, and you owe me a night out. I was about to get my own itch scratched. Don’t have time for that now!”
“How do you think I feel?” I start to feel worry all over again. “It was strange how he just passed out on me in the first place. One bottle of beer shouldn't have done something like that, even if he was drinking before. I mean, he went from rock solid to staggering in like three minutes.”
“Who is he, anyway?” Hannah wonders. “Grab his wallet.”
“His name is Jake, that’s all I know. I don’t know if I should do that . . .”
“I’m not asking you to steal his money and credit cards, Roxy! Just find out who the man is!”
I check his pants before finding his wallet in his jacket pocket. I pull it out and
peek inside. It’s thick with a wide packet of hundreds, and my heart nearly stops as I pull out his ID. The photo that looks back at me is like I felt when I first saw him. That boyish smile, those sensual lips. Thank God I didn’t take him from this world.
“Like I said, his name is Jake. Jake Stone,” I say, transfixed by his photo. I thought a good looking DMV photo was impossible. I guess it just needs Jake Stone on it.
“Well, it sounds like Mr. Jake Stone needs some help.”
“No shit. What should I do?”
Hannah sighs. “It sounds like he needs to sleep it off. Just get out of there. I’ll find someone at the front and tell them there’s a drunk guy in the back room passed out.”
“But—” I say, looking down at Jake. “What if he needs medical help?”
“Then they’ll get it for him! But he’s just drunk, Roxy. Come on, you’re not supposed to even be back there.”
Hannah has a point. “Okay,” I say finally. “Meet you out front.”
Click.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” I tell him. “But I have to go.”
Jake makes a little sound. I stop, going back over to the bed and pushing his shoulder, jostling him a little.
“Jake?”
He snorts a little but doesn’t answer, but at least I can see he’s breathing more. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I’m glad he’s all right.
I hear a bang somewhere outside and quickly jump to my feet. Someone’s coming. They’ll know what to do. Maybe he won’t even remember our brief steamy encounter.
But I’ll never forget it, I think.
“Catch you in another lifetime, handsome,” I say, blowing him a kiss as I scoop up my purse and things.
I rush out of the room and nearly collide into a small man in a sharp suit. In my heels, the top of his head just about hits me in the chin. He looks surprised, his eyes going wide.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing back here?” he demands in a thick Bronx accent, grabbing me by the arm.
“I was with a friend,” I hurriedly say, turning my face so he can't get a good look at me.
He tries to pull me around to face him. “You’re full of shit,” he snarls. “No one is allowed back here.”
“Well a guy name Jake let me in. He said he knows the owners,” I retort. “He had a key.”
“Bullshit! Jake knows not to let any sleazy broads back here.” Sleazy broads? This little bastard is pushing his luck.
A groan from inside the room pulls his attention away, and I seize the opportunity, pulling myself from his grasp as I shove him and take off down the hall as fast as I can in these heels. I guess all those performances onstage still help out. I can move in these damn things.
“Hey!” the short guy yells. “Get your ass back here!”
I grit my teeth and find my way back into the club and make a beeline outside, fearing every second that one of the club security is going to grab me. Those MIB-looking dudes are scary.
Hannah is waiting for me by the fountain, arms folded, a scowl on her face.
We walk to the car and get in, not saying a word until we’re inside. Suddenly, Hannah bursts out laughing. “This is just so damn crazy. You were saying that you were gonna unleash the Rox, but damn . . .”
“I dunno, Han.” I laugh. “It was weird! I almost shit a brick! I’m not going to want to go out for another ten months.”
“Was he at least cute?”
“Oh, gawd,” I say, relaxing as Hannah pulls out of the parking lot. A ripple of remembered heat and unquenched desire flushes my cheeks. “He was hot as fuck. And I bet you could crack walnuts with his ass cheeks.”
We talk as Hannah drives, and she fills me in on the guy she danced with. I’ll admit, I feel a little bad about ruining her night. “So, are you going to call the guy?” I ask, shifting around to try and make my ass more comfortable. “I mean, you sound like you liked him.”
Hannah thinks, then nods. “Yeah, I probably will. What about Jake? You get his number?”
“I didn’t exactly think about getting his number,” I say sarcastically. I reach for my purse and open it, looking for my phone. When I do, I’m shocked by the thick black leather object inside. My memory flashes back, and I remember taking it out of his pocket and laying it next to my things. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Hannah asks, pulling into our parking lot. When I don’t answer, she parks and shuts off the engine. “Rox, what’s going on?”
I pull out Jake’s wallet and show it to her. “I accidentally took his wallet in my rush to get out of there.”
Jake
“Jake!” I faintly hear a muffled voice urgently yell from what seems a million miles away. Something hits me in the face, and I mumble something. The voice speaks up again, this time closer. “Jake, wake up.”
I let out a groan, my head pounding like that time I decided to do keg stands in college and lost my balance, hitting my head on the way down. I feel someone shaking me violently, but it's a chore to open my eyes.
“Jake, what happened?” the voice says, and I can finally identify who it is. That Bronx accent is pretty much unmistakable.
Still, even if I recognize Nathan’s voice, it's a struggle to open my eyes. I finally force them open, but when I do, all I see is a blur.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You get the number on that truck?”
“Jake, you’re fucking smashed, man,” Nathan says, and I swallow thickly, my mouth feeling both swollen and somehow dry at the same time. “Damn, I haven’t seen you like this before.”
I feel like my chest has been cast in concrete and like my limbs are weighed down by stone. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to focus, but it takes several moments for me to see Nathan clearly. He’s standing over me, staring at me with disbelief, concern, and yeah, a little amusement.
“Where is she?” I mumble, my words sounding like a jumbled mess. I'm trying to get my bearings, remember what’s going on. Some things are a little hazy, but her . . . I can’t forget her. Her lush body in my hands, those sweet lips . . . fuck.
Nathan frowns. “Huh? I don't understand you.”
I realize I'm not going to get anywhere for at least several minutes with the brain fog that is filling my mind. “Water,” I rasp, trying to imitate drinking motions. “Get me some water.”
Nathan looks like he’s about to make a wiseass comment but instead goes to the corner of the room and grabs a water out of the small refrigerator, bringing it over to me. I'm barely able to take it from his hands, but he plucks it out of my weakened fingers and opens it for me. Taking it, I chug some, the water churning in my stomach, but at least I’ve got something to focus on besides the jackhammer between my ears.
“Damn, dude,” Nathan continues, “What the hell is going on? You disappear and now I find you back here passed out, looking fucked up as all hell. How much did you drink?”
“Not drunk,” I say slowly, focusing on every syllable to make sure I’m understood. I remember throwing back that one beer, my second drink for the night. The champagne was the other, and it was a half glass.
“Not drunk?” Nathan demands, his face twisted in confusion. “Jake, you know damn well we can’t be having drugs in . . .”
“Drugged,” I say, not knowing if I’m thinking clearly enough. That had to be it. The beer. It had to be. It just doesn’t make sense any other way.
Nathan looks shocked. “What?”
“I was drugged,” I manage in a froglike croak. “I don’t know how or why, but someone spiked my drink.”
“It was that fucking tramp I ran into on the way here!” Nathan half yells, jumping to his own conclusion. “I knew there was something fishy about that broad being back here!”
“Roxy?” I ask, remembering her flirty dimple-filled smile. I don’t consider myself naive, but I don’t think my angel is responsible.
“That’s her name?” Nathan snarls, turning away. “I’m gonna go out there, find her, and call the cops . . .”
I hold out my hand and tried to stand, but I collapse back onto the bed, my head pounding. “Wait!”
Nathan turns back, scowling.
I shake my head weakly. “Don’t call,” I rasp. “Seriously.”
“Why the fuck not? If we let this type of shit happen, we’re going to be finished.”
“You’re usually more levelheaded than this. Think about it. I’m the one fucked up and I’m thinking more clearly. If you call the cops, that’s all everyone’s going to be talking about. We don’t need the negative press. Let’s just look at the security tapes and figure out what to do.”
The rage flees his face and his shoulders relax. “Shit, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
I nod. “And there’s no need to call the ambulance. I just need a little time and some fluids. I can already feel the effects wearing off a little bit.”
Nathan runs his fingers through his hair. “What were you thinking, bringing her back here . . .” His voice trails off as if he suddenly seems to notice that I’m sitting on the bed. “Shit, did you at least hit it?”
I shake my head. “Was about to.”
“Man, what the fuck? All your talk about being on the straight and narrow, but you're bringing sluts to the back room on our grand opening night—”
“She’s not a slut,” I cut in.
“Really? Then what the fuck is she?” Nathan asks.
Nathan shakes his head when I can’t answer. “She probably robbed your ass blind.”
I pat my pockets and realize my wallet is missing. “Fuck me!”
Nathan is staring at me incredulously. “See? What did I tell you? Why else would she drug you if not to rob your ass!”
Anger tightens my stomach. Fuck, how could I be so stupid? “I’ll call and cancel all my cards. She won't be able to get shit off them. Listen, my head can’t take much more of this shit right now. Leave me be for a bit and go check the tapes.”
I’m glad when Nathan leaves without an argument, and I can’t help but see Roxy in my mind. That sweet, angelic smile and her irresistible laugh.
But no matter how hard I try to reason things, the fact of the matter is that my wallet is gone. Which leaves me with only one explanation.
Dirty Laundry Page 33