by Billy Storm
“No, I don’t want you to kiss me—”
“Shut up, Skye.” Without another word, I kiss her as my fingers work that tit. Her body relaxes and I know I have her. Have her where I want her and where I plan to keep her for one more round. I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman—really kiss her like this before, and it’s strange but I’m not about to stop.
“Shit,” Skye says when our mouths finally separate.
“You’re tellin’ me.”
**Skye**
First, I let him fuck me over the desk just minutes after setting foot in the gym. And then, I let him finger me against his office door until I come in a convulsing mess. Luckily, Jaden had my body braced or I’d have landed on the floor in a puddle. Just as he reaches in the same top desk drawer where he’d grabbed the first condom a knock at the door stopped us both, the mood instantly killed. Thank you, Becky.
She came to tell him that his next client had arrived. Apparently, the personal trainer side of him is a popular man. Not that it was hard to understand why—the man was ripped. I’d felt his muscles flexing beneath my fingers, and I’d felt him pressed tight against my backside. No question he was in shape.
That thought has my mind wandering. I shake my head and cover my eyes with my hand. Like that somehow shades me from the embarrassment of knowing he had a front row seat to seeing my fat ass bounce like a basketball when he fucked me from behind. My body is still humming from the two orgasms so much so that I only care a little about the shame. He’s seen me; that meant he knew what he’d be getting by dropping my jeans and fucking me in broad daylight.
As I get closer to Pinkies, I still can’t wrap my brain around my actions. I’d been so pissed. I went there to tell him to lose my number and stay away from me. Instead? I almost begged the man to fuck me…actually, I’m pretty sure I did at some point. God! I don’t even like him. He was right though; there was something. I don’t know what it is, but it was explosive and my body needed explosive. Well, whatever the hell it was, it won’t happen again. I’m not going back there even if he asks me to. I will not.
Jaden is so damn sure of himself that it’s overwhelming. He slips into the alpha male role so well. Although, I’m not positive he ever slips out of it. It’s that side of him that attracts me, nothing is as attractive in a man than that, for me. However, that doesn’t mean we’re a good fit; I know we are not. He’s gotten to me—found a weak spot and infiltrated it. I am ending it before he can get through my no longer ironclad resistance any further.
Two orgasms though and not from my own hand. Two.
******
It’s been just over five days since Jaden fucked me without shame in the office at his gym. He’s texted and called too many times to count, and I stopped listening to the voicemails after he called me a bitch—okay, technically, he said I was acting like a bitch, but hey, one and the same in my book. I swapped shifts this week, which is seriously killing me, but it’s been worth it to avoid Jaden. Mandy said he’s been in twice this week. I don’t understand why he’s doing this, and I really couldn’t care less. I imagine he’ll tire of the chase soon enough. There’s no way the man lacks attention from women. Jesus, look at him. But then again, when he opens his mouth…
Arrogance—pure arrogance seeps from the man’s veins like a poison that seizes control of my body, I swear. Dammit, why am I defenseless when it comes to his egotistical ass? Truly, I don’t understand it. It’s infuriating. Just thinking about him pisses me off. So does the thought of his broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes, framed with those thick lashes. Not to mention the way his mouth is crooked when he smiles. Infuriating, did I say that already? Well, it’s true.
Sliding out of my car, I grab my backpack from the backseat and head inside. I didn’t work at the diner this morning; instead, I spent the afternoon painting my living room a dark beige. My red furniture looks amazing against the color, but I seriously need some artwork for the walls or something. One step at a time, right?
My hair is still wet from my shower, but I figured I’d get ready at the club before my shift starts in an hour. Charlie opens the door for me with a smile and I’m immediately happy to be here. Making my way to the back room, I find Eden and Stella changing. I already know Candy is on stage when I hear the 80’s hairband music echoing through the hallway. Only thing the woman ever dances to, I swear. I just wish someone would pour some damn sugar on her already because I wanna pull my hair out after hearing that song every damn night I work.
“Hey there, sweet cheeks.” Eden says as I give her a peck on the cheek before doing the same to Stella. Sitting in Candy’s chair near her disaster area where she gets ready, I watch as Eden lines her eyelids with liner.
“You should really use liquid eyeliner,” I say. “It leaves a flawless line—unlike a pencil.”
Shaking her head at me, she comes back. “You know damn well I can’t do the liquid crap. One eye is always thicker than the other.” Looking over at me, she adds, “I don’t know how you do it, bitch.”
“Well, I don’t know how you keep your ass so small when you eat like a cow, so we’re even.” Eden sticks her tongue out at me before tossing her head back and laughing. Damn woman knows it’s the truth.
Taking out my makeup and flat iron, I look for the nearest outlet when Eden tells me to use hers. “Mine is already hot and you can use my station; I’m on next.” When I hear the repetitive beat fade out, I know Candy’s done. “And that’s my cue. See you later, Sunny. Use this—it’s amazing.” She says as she hands me some heat spray to use on my hair.
As I watch Stella dance, I realize she’s a lifer, and I’m not saying that’s bad. It’s just watching Eden, I see so much more. She’s destined for more, even if she’s the best dancer to ever grace the pole in Pinkies. Stella was born and bred for this life, hell, she loves it, so why not? But not Eden. Her moves aren’t practiced and yet they flow seamlessly. I hope I never see the day she no longer loves the motions, feels the music, or illustrates a picture as poetic as a priceless painting.
Taking Joe his third whiskey sour for the night, I grab his almost empty dish of pretzels to replenish when I see him as I walk toward the bar. Rhett. It’s been a couple of weeks now since he’d taken my phone number and said he’d call me the next day. God, had I ever wanted him to call. Without so much as a hello, I walk straight up to him, ask him for another whiskey sour for Joe, and hand him the near empty bowl.
He looks at me like I’ve grown another head, but says nothing for a minute. I cave under his scrutiny. “Do you mind?” I snap.
A slight shake of his head and I see when his eyes refocus on mine. “Do I mind what?”
Jesus, his voice radiates a jolt up my spine. It’s deep and has that southern accent. “You’re staring.”
The slow forming grin he gives me is truly remarkable. “Naw, I don’t mind that at all, beautiful.” I roll my eyes and ignore the look he gives me. Waiting for Joe’s drink, I step up on the foot ledge on the bar to give me enough height to lean over the shellacked bar top to grab a fresh bowl of pretzels. A large hand closes around my wrist. Looking up into the greenest eyes I’d ever seen in person, he doesn’t release me even after I attempt to pull away. “You’re supposed to say thank you when someone tells you that you’re beautiful, Skye—”
“It’s Sunny,” I correct him.
This time his grin turns into a full smile and it takes all I have not to give him one right back. “No, no it’s not.” Glancing around us, he notices my hesitation. “Nobody heard me. Your secret’s safe with me.” I nod and try once again to pull my hand free, without success. He shakes his head. “You still didn’t say thank you.”
“Thank you.” It’s just easier to say it than keep this up.
When my eyes meet his, this warmth comes over me—it’s frightening. Something about this man pulls me in. Go figure. He’s the one not calling me when he said he would, right? Story of my life. “You’re welcome.” Placing Joe’s drink on my tra
y, he winks at me—winks at me. A small smile escapes before I can even think to stop it. I only make it a few steps when I stop and turn to the sound of my name from his lips. “We will talk later, Sunny. Unfinished business.” Then, he focuses his attention on Kelly—another waitress. As she gives him the drink orders she needs, I only realize I’m still staring when he smiles at me over her shoulder.
There’s just something about that man.
Chapter Ten
**Rhett**
I fucked up, and I know I did, but Ryan—it’s always Ryan. He’s been a thorn in my side for years, but I still remember a time when the booze hadn’t controlled his life. I miss those days and my hope for their return is what keeps me from giving up on my brother. I just can’t, no matter how much I want to sometimes.
It took me four days to get him to agree to another stint in rehab. Waking up in his own feces, without the memory of how he got home and without his boxers, was apparently the scare he needed. There’s been more than once that he’s bagged some chick and forgotten all about her come morning, but this was different. No recollection of being with any women the night before freaked him out. Jesus, he could’ve fucked or been fucked by any or all of the men he’d been drinking with last night and he’d never know it. I’d say that is a sobering fucking thought.
I flew with him to Pasadena this time. Ry might have seen it as me being supportive, but I was just making sure he made it inside the clinic doors. We’d been down the route too many times where he hadn’t followed through. I carried his bag into the facility and watched as he filled out paperwork, signing his life away for the next 28 days. Life? Ryan hadn’t had a life in years—outside of drunken benders and a series of bad fuckin’ choices, one after another. Please God, please let this be the one that sticks!
After flying home once Ryan was settled, I was met with the reality of the aftermath of living with an alcoholic. Opening the apartment door, the stench of stale booze and cigarettes hits me hard. And as I took out the garbage, the number of glass bottles was surprising, even to me. I must’ve been in my own cloud of denial.
I’ve been living here with Ry since I moved back, and I hadn’t even realized what a shithole we’d been in. After taking out nine trash bags of bottles, cans, and plain ol’ trash outta his room alone? I wasn’t fit for company—especially Skye. The last thing she needed was to be around this toxic shit.
It’d taken me days to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last couple weeks. Skye. I’d thought about dialing her too many times to count, but I just couldn’t. At first, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to share information about Ryan with her, but now? Now, I want to tell her everything, and I don’t even know why, but hell if I don’t want to. With Ryan gone, I’ve been left to my own thoughts—not that he’d ever really paid attention when he was there. If it wasn’t at least 80 proof, it didn’t hold Ry’s attention long.
As she worked tonight, I watched her. Everyone she meets is left with a smile as she walks away, and I have a gut feeling she doesn’t even know. I’ve been back behind the bar at Pinkies for only a couple days, but I’ve waited for her to show up for a shift since the minute I punched in for the first time in years.
“You starin’ at the girl all night?” Cal asked as he walked up and clapped me hard on the back. “Don’t make me hafta tell Charlie to bust ya skull in for ya.” His laugh is the kind of laugh that makes you laugh—even when he’s not being funny.
Without thinking, I say, “He’ll have to bust my skull then because Skye’s something I can’t stop looking at.” The words just fall from my mouth. I hadn’t even had time to think them over, but even after I say them, I wouldn’t take them back, and I won’t apologize to Cal. My boss obviously feels some kind of responsibility over the sassy Skye.
Cal’s laugh rings through my ears loud enough that I peel my eyes from her briefly to look at him. “That so, huh?” All I do is nod in response. His eyes watch me closely like he’s waiting for me to back down or something, but that’s not even an option when it comes to her. His dark olive skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and I know what’s coming before he even says anything. “You do understand that I know people that make problems disappear, right?” Yup, exactly as I thought, a threat—no, not, from Cal? I’d say that was more of a guarantee. “She’s a good girl and one helluva woman, son.” Clapping my back again. “Yous be right to remember that.” That said, he walks away with no signs of just threatening my life. The man is a character that is for sure, but I like that he has her back, I like that a lot.
Like some creep, I watched her all night. We were pretty damn busy for a Thursday night, but the two-for-one drink specials brought in a lot of the regulars and a bunch of strays. The crowd leaned toward the younger side on bargain drink nights. Unfortunately, that also meant the girls would be getting diddly-squat for tips tonight.
Skye looked to be pulling in tips well enough. But then again, why wouldn’t she? That damn smile she has is contagious, and her laugh is like a fucking drug. She likes this job, that’s easy to see, and she just kinda fits. I’m not trying to be an ass in saying Skye’s not the typical kinda chick to be working at a strip club—it’s just the truth. Hey, I’m down with the thickness, but most guys come to ogle the Barbie’s on the stage. The Barbie’s that Skye blends in with effortlessly. She just does. That’s saying something. Her demeanor speaks of a confidence that is a thing of beauty. Not many women—big or small— carry themselves without apology. Skye does. It’s that and her sassy-as-shit attitude that slay me.
With Ryan safe and sound for at least the next twenty-four days, it’s time to spend some of my time on the vivacious raven haired beauty. That is, if she’ll tolerate me. The cold look in her eye seemed to warm throughout the night, and I think she’s slowly caving. Not that she’s returning any of my flirting, yet, but I’d seen a hint of a smile more than once while filling her drink orders.
**Skye**
“I can take him home, Cal.”
“Yous sure, princess?” His term of endearment is sweet even if it’s far fetched. But it’s Cal; what should I expect, right?
Fumbling through my backpack, I finally find my keys beneath my diner uniform, spilled makeup, and about six half-empty packets of gum. “Here they are.” Wiggling my keys in front of Cal, I motion to Charlie with a jerk of my head to help Joe outside and into my car. “I’ve taken him before. I remember where it is—”
“Then you can tell me how to get there.”
My eyes meet Rhett’s, and I see what I imagine is the same ‘try me’ look I’m sporting. “It’s good, Rhett. I’ve got him.” Walking around the six foot three road block, I catch up to Charlie and Joe at the door. “Ready, Joe?”
“It’s not every night an old fella like me gets taken home by a gorgeous woman.” Charlie’s laugh bellows across the almost empty parking lot.
“You are definitely a charmer, aren’t you?” Just as we near my car, a truck pulls in front of us, blocking our path. Black Dodge? I know this truck. Rhett.
Hopping from the cab, Rhett comes around the truck in seconds. The faint dinging lets me know he didn’t even take the time to shut his door. “Charlie, help Joe into my truck. I’ll take him home.” Without question, he did as Rhett instructed. Then, I was being pulled to the other side of the vehicle. “Hop up, beautiful. You’re in the middle.” I’m still not even sure how I lost control of the situation, or how I ended up sitting between Joe and Rhett in a pickup truck, but I’m here.
After instructing Rhett which way to head, I try to keep my mouth closed until I just can’t any longer. “I didn’t need your assistance, you know? I’ve managed quite well without it thus far.” When I hear his snicker, it pisses me off. “What’s so funny?”
His hand’s on my thigh and even though I try to ignore the intimate touch I can’t. Hard to ignore something that is radiating heat through the denim of my jeans. As if he knows, Rhett’s fingers squeeze my leg. “You are what�
��s funny.” I risk glancing at him, and those crazy ass green eyes of his are looking right back at me. “I’m sure you can handle yourself just fine without me…but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet and we still need to talk.” Talk? We have nothing to talk about. If he wanted to talk so badly, he could’ve called the next day like he said he would or the day after that or even the day after that. “I owe you an explanation, I know.”
His words hit me and I hear something there—something he needs to explain. The anger I hadn’t realized was there fades a little when I hear the wistful tone of his voice.
“Son, you’re gonna go through life owing women everyday.” Joe breaks the silence. “First for giving birth to you and then again everyday after.”
“I suppose you’re right, Joe.” Rhett replies, his smile is apparent even in the darkness of the cab.
“I’m serious, boy. You owe those girls in middle school for making you feel alive. Owe those women you work with for sharing their beauty, day after day. And, one day, you’ll owe a woman for letting you love her—ain’t nothing like that one, son, nothing.” Sighing, I watched as emotions played across his face. “You’ll owe that woman until the day you die for holding your heart for you. See the thing is, a man never realizes how heavy that thing is until he hands it over to a woman to hold.” A small smile lifts one side of his mouth, and his laugh lines run deeper. “She’ll tote it around like it’s nothing, but I promise you, she’ll take care of it as long as you’ll let her.” Turning his gaze to Rhett, he continued. “And you’ll owe her for that too.”
Not sure what to say, I stay silent. I’ve never heard Joe say more than a few words at a time over the years I’ve worked at the club. Then, he goes and blows me away with something so beautiful that I find myself swallowing hard against the lump currently residing in my throat. It gives me a whole new perspective about the man that comes to club every weekend.