Three Little Mistakes

by Nikki Sloane

  Her arms were already trembling, and I hadn’t touched her. Her breathy voice shot straight to my dick. “Why?”

  “There was a time in my life when I didn’t have control, and now I want it all. No more questions, Noemi.”

  I stepped behind her and pushed her hair over a shoulder. She shuddered as my fingertips trailed down the long curve of her throat, and skated inside the neckline of her shirt. They drifted over the flesh, seeking access beneath her thin bra. I leaned over her, setting my other hand on the desk for support.

  A quiet moan slipped from her lips as I circled her taut nipple and tweaked it.

  “You like that, little girl?”

  Her shoulders trembled. “Yes.”

  “Mm. I can’t wait to suck on these tits.” I rolled my palm from one perfect breast to the other. “I can’t wait to bite them. Would you like that?”

  Her body filled with hesitation. “I . . . don’t know.”

  “What do you say we find out? Stand up.”

  She didn’t. Noemi remained as if frozen to the desk. “Wait.” It came out exactly the same as last night, coated in fear.

  No. We hadn’t even started, and she was getting cold feet again?

  “I think I’ve waited enough. What’s the problem?”

  She walked her hands back toward her hips and stood. “There’s no problem, but I need a minute.” Her scared expression was a bucket of cold water on me. “I want this. I do, I swear. It’s just—”

  “You need a minute so you can overthink this.” Fuck it, I couldn’t do patient. I lifted her and plunked her ass down on the desktop with a thud. I snaked a hand behind her to grab a handful of hair, yanking her head back so she had no choice but to look up into my eyes. Hers were startled and wild.

  “I told you,” I said, “I don’t do halfway and I don’t waste time. You want to be bad, let me show you how it’s done.”

  I slammed my mouth on hers, cutting off the noise of surprise she made. I didn’t ask for permission, I took. I possessed.

  She fucking submitted.

  When I’d sat her on my desk, I’d stood between her legs, and now they clamped around my hips. The rest of her seemed desperate to get close, too. Her breasts flattened against my chest and her hands tunneled in my hair, encasing me. She had no problem responding to the PG-13 stuff. My tongue filled her soft mouth, dominating.

  When she grew greedy, I shoved her down until she was flat on her back. The whites of her eyes were enormous a split second after I pushed her full breasts together and squeezed roughly. My thrust slammed my throbbing cock against her body, insinuating what was going to happen.

  “I like this shirt.” I buried my face in her tits. I tugged both the shirt and the cup of her bra away, and latched onto her flesh. My tongue swirled, seeking the hardened nub of flesh, and once I had it, I bit down.

  “Oh . . .”

  It was impossible to tell what type of sound she made. Pleasure? Pain? Either one would work right now. I hadn’t bitten hard. “You like it?” No answer. “Tell me.” I did it again, pulling the flesh between my teeth and fluttering my tongue over it.

  “Yes, yes . . .” Her back bowed off the desk.

  I pushed up on my hands and stared down at the girl beneath me, her nipple just peeking out from where I’d pushed the shirt aside. “I want you topless, now.”

  The hesitation was in her eyes. “Joseph, I don’t want to stop,” she said quietly, “but can we slow down?”

  I considered her statement. “Why?”

  Her gaze shifted away. “I barely know you.”

  The top was adjusted to cover herself and I pulled her back up to sitting, then cradled her head in my hands. “You don’t have to know me to enjoy this.”

  Her hands settled on my shoulders. “But what if that’s the way I like it?”

  Lust still flooded in my bloodstream and my thoughts were cloudy. I lived detached to avoid distractions, so telling her personal shit wasn’t appealing. But the fact was, I wanted to slide my cock eight inches deep into this distraction so bad I could fucking taste it. “It’s better this way. The less you know, the less of me you can regret.”

  Her expression went south. “I don’t know if I can be what you’re used to.”

  I laughed softly. “Don’t worry about that. Just do what you want.”

  “And what if what I want is to go slow?”

  Shit, trapped in my own words. Every moment she remained on the desk, the further away she felt. Her shoulders pulled inward, as she shut down.

  “Noemi.” I kissed her slowly. “If you want to stop, tell me. But if what we’ve done is already too much, this isn’t going to happen.”

  I watched the different emotions play out on her face. Anxiety, disappointment. Remorse.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.

  Un-fucking-believable.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting an asshole comment from sliding past my lips. I dug the phone out and glanced at the screen. “Fuck.”

  “You swear too much,” she muttered under her breath.

  I ignored the comment. The text message was from Payton.

  There wasn’t any other option. “I have to leave. There’s a problem at another one of my clubs.” My emotions were all over the place. Annoyance that she was turning me down again, after claiming she wanted me, and concern about Payton’s message. My dick was aching for Noemi, but once again, there’d be no satisfaction. “I guess we’re done here.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sliding off the desk. “Can I see you again?”

  I left her, wanting to get away, and snatched up my coat. Couldn’t let her see me in this weakened state of frustration. “See me again? For what?”

  “Your sparkling conversation.” The distance between us must have given her strength to dish out the biting tone.

  “I don’t date, if that’s what you mean.” I shrugged into my coat.

  “So, this is it? We’re done just because I wanted to go slow?”

  She was being a brat again. “Don’t put it on me. You made this decision, more than once, I might add. I know who I am and what I want.” I shoved my office door open. “See you around.”

  chapter

  FIVE

  I pushed open the glass outer door, and Julius nodded, buzzing me through the club entrance. He was part of the security team on tonight. A beast of a man who could crush skulls with one hand, but he was too smart to have to do that. Julius knew when to use his mouth to solve a problem, and when to flex his muscles instead.

  Payton stood in the guest lounge, wearing a tailored black dress, an earpiece, and a determined expression.

  “What’s the situation?” I asked. I’d only had time to send her a text to let her know I was on my way. I needed to cool down and focus on driving in the snow.

  She coursed a hand through her black cherry colored hair and set it on her hip. “Mr. Red saw me.”

  Payton was knock-out gorgeous and used to be my top girl. Hell, we’d started this place together, and for a time, Mr. Red had been exclusive to Payton. He’d been smitten with her, but as he was paying her to fuck him, the relationship was one-sided.

  I trusted Payton. She loved sex, money, and had no problem selling pussy. She’d offered to step in a few nights a month to help me focus on my other businesses, and as much as I loved this place, having the option of a night off was necessary.

  “What the fuck?” I said. “How did he see you?” She was supposed to stay in the office, watching the monitors.

  “We had a problem with a walk-in.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “The kind where he wanted to renegotiate afterward.” A dark look flitted over her. “Don’t worry, I straightened him out. I didn’t even need Marquis’ help.”

  Marquis was another member of my security team—the opposite of Julius. Marquis was one mean son of a bitch. He boxed in the featherweight division and was always looking for a fight.

&n
bsp; “I was leaving the payment room,” she continued, “and Mr. Red was in the hallway. It was my fault, I should have remembered that he was done and checking out.”

  I don’t know how much she knew about him. Mr. Red had been a mess when Payton left the club. He’d threatened to tear apart the city to find her, and when he couldn’t, his threats turned on me. But they’d been empty threats, caused by a man in pain. He’d loved Payton. Her disappearance had been a tremendous blow, and it had taken months for him to form a relationship with a new girl. I’d tried everything. Mr. Red was my best customer, not just in cash, but in networking. Half my member list had come from his referrals.

  “What’d he do?” It felt like I’d swallowed a stone. Everything could fall apart if Mr. Red decided it should.

  “He was pissed.” Her expression changed to sadness. “Well, he was upset. He demanded to talk to you, but I tried to explain—”

  “Where is he?”

  She pressed her lips together momentarily. “Holding room C. Should I go with you?”

  “No.” I hurried through the empty lounge toward the holding room. Nothing good could come from her being in the room. I followed the hallway, which housed the guest rooms, and turned to the door marked with a C in brass, rapping my knuckles on it. “It’s Joseph.”

  “Come in,” a muffled voice answered back.

  His real name was Rosso. He was a media mogul who owned magazines, newspapers, and several first-tier cable networks. On top of that, he was branching into other industries, such as real estate. A lot of pokers in the fire.

  Mr. Red was where I wanted to be in the professional world. I didn’t meet face to face with any of the other club members after the first interview, but every once in a while, he’d see me. We’d talk vague business strategies over whiskey while Claudia prepared for him.

  “Good evening, sir. I came as soon as I could.” I always acted as if I didn’t know who he really was, which perhaps made me look stupid, but I believed he appreciated it. Anthony Rosso was famous for his wealth and his outspoken personality, and a few years ago he’d participated in a reality show geared toward entrepreneurs. Rosso was a household name, like Zuckerberg or Murdoch. Certainly here in Chicago where Rosso Media Group was headquartered.

  Mr. Red sat on the black leather couch with his head in his hands, paying no attention to the porn that was running on the plasma TV on the opposite wall. The gold wedding band on his finger glinted in the soft lighting.

  “You told me she was gone.” It was an even mixture of pain and fury from him.

  “She was gone,” I said. He stood abruptly, his eyes wild and unfocused. Fuck, had he been crying? I lowered my gaze to the floor and pretended not to notice. “She’s only come back to Chicago recently.”

  “You told me you fired her.” His voice gathered strength and rage.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Mr. Red was mid-to-late fifties with dark hair and graying at the temples. He wasn’t the type of man who visited the gym, but he also worked himself to death like I did, which meant he didn’t indulge much. Apparently, his only vice was my club.

  It wasn’t surprising that a man like him wanted to play here. He was powerful, rich, and connected, which made him practically untouchable. If he ever got caught, his legal department would have him out in twenty minutes, and the public relations machine would grind out a story about him being unaware that his favorite wine club was actually a high-class brothel. The public would buy it absolutely.

  But Mr. Red didn’t come to the club because he was a sexual deviant and got off on kink. He came because Anthony Rosso’s wife was a frigid bitch who wanted nothing to do with him. He’d confessed to me one night a few months back that his wife not only knew about his visits, but encouraged him to go. After having a kid, she had zero interest in any kind of sex.

  I almost felt sorry taking his money. Almost.

  “If you fired her,” he said, “what the hell is she doing here, running the place?”

  “Please, lower your voice.” I remained calm and collected, hoping he would feed off of my subdued state. “I don’t know who could be in one of the guest rooms or in the hallway.” Mr. Red was smart and would understand what I was implying. There were plenty of other powerful men in Chicago who were members here. Some of them operated outside of the law, and catching Mr. Red at the club would be advantageous.

  “I trust her,” I said, “to oversee things while I’m not here.”

  “You should have told me. I had a right to know that she’s . . .” His gaze drifted away as he seemed to search for a grip on his emotions. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to talk to her.”

  “I think that’s a bad idea.”

  He refocused on me, giving a look that probably made men in his boardroom feel three inches tall. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  “She’s not the woman you knew last year. And she doesn’t see clients—”

  “Get her in here, now.”

  I took a breath. “She’s getting married, sir.”

  Mr. Red wasn’t equipped to handle a woman like Payton. That man’s name was Dominic. One night with him was all it took for her to chase him to Japan, and a year later she came home with a massive engagement ring on her finger. The girl who’d been like me—uninterested in relationships—was getting married. I’d called her a traitor as a joke, but it was half-true.

  The concept of Payton getting married was a visible slap, and the sting didn’t ease for a long moment from Mr. Red’s face. “Married,” he repeated, probably for himself. “She said she didn’t do love. All those times I asked . . .” He seemed suddenly aware that he was speaking out loud. Maybe he felt like I was judging him, because he scowled. “You can’t be with someone, night after night, and not get attached.”

  I disagreed, but kept the opinion to myself. Back when Payton had been taking clients at the club, we sometimes fucked afterward, when her client couldn’t get it up or had failed to get her off. Had I felt a connection to Payton? Sure, as we were similar. But I wasn’t attached. Nothing lasted forever, and we’d both been happy with our casual relationship.

  Sex was just sex. I didn’t allow emotion to enter into it. It was about mutual pleasure.

  “If that’s true,” I said quietly, “that you became attached, what about Clare?”

  Her real name was Claudia, but I’d put a rule in place that the girls never gave their real name.

  Mr. Red rubbed a muscle on the back of his neck. “I like her very much, but it’s never been the same.”

  He didn’t have to tell me that, it was obvious. Mr. Red never asked Claudia to come home with him after. He never offered to buy her a penthouse apartment. He never lingered, hoping to catch her leaving the club, as he had with Payton. But he’d been seeing Claudia exclusively for well over a year, and it’d gotten to the point that she only saw him now. Well, figuratively. Claudia still wore the blindfold. She didn’t know who Mr. Red was.

  He must have felt hope at the sight of Payton in the hall, and now crushing defeat. All his money and power wouldn’t be able to get him what he wanted this time.

  “I still want to talk to her.”

  He wanted closure, fine. I strode to the door, only to have it swing open. She must have been in the hallway, listening. Payton scanned the room and her gaze settled on the wounded man perched on the edge of the couch. Her posture was stiff and formal, but softened as he looked up at her.

  Mr. Red’s voice was heavy with remorse. “I’m sorry I grabbed you.”

  Shit. Payton hadn’t mentioned any kind of altercation, but I hadn’t given her time to explain.

  “I’m fine. It’s not like that was the first time you’ve touched me.” Her clipped tone gave the distinct warning that it would be the last time.

  My pulse ticked up a notch. Payton was smart, but she could also lose her cool and burn a bridge that I needed. Mr. Red slowly rose to stand, and from the gaze that seared her direction, I was sure I no longer existe
d to him. There was only her.

  “Where did you go? I tried to find you.”

  She was surprised at the reveal, but hid it immediately. “Tokyo. I needed a change.”

  “Japan?” He shook his head, perhaps in disbelief. “Mr. Monsato tells me you’re getting married.”

  She shifted her weight on her feet and set a hand on her hip. Her icy tone was accusing. “Did he?”

  “So you were just lying to me all those times we were together?”

  Every alarm in my head sounded and the noise was deafening. Fuck, Payton, don’t say anything. I expected her attitude to show in all its brilliant colors, yet she strolled confidently up to him, her expression shockingly empty.

  “No, Mr. Red. I never lied. I’m sorry that you wanted more and I couldn’t give it to you. Before Japan, I wasn’t capable.” The corners of her mouth lifted into a sad, half-smile.

  The look he gave Payton was an uncomfortable mix of desperation and pain. “What’s his name?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m happy, and you just had a great time with Clare.”

  “I want his goddamn name.”

  My shoulders tensed. Payton took a step back and her gaze flicked to me, silently asking what she should do. The filter holding back what she really wanted to say could go at any moment.

  “No,” I said, playing the card I didn’t want to. “I don’t share client names with anyone who’s not staff . . . Mr. Rosso.” His body went stiff. “I’m sure you can respect that.”

  For a tense moment, no one moved.

  I grabbed the lapels of my suit jacket and shifted it to hang comfortably on my broad shoulders. “I’m sure you’re tired, Mr. Red. Let’s not worry about any details tonight. Marquis will escort you to your car.” I fished a business card out of my interior pocket and extended it to him. “Please call me if you want to discuss anything.”

  He stared at the card with disdain, which was the emotion I was feeling. I’d just offered to let him leave without paying, and the concept of men fucking my girls for free made me sick to my stomach. I’d have to pay Claudia out of club money, but it would be worth it. Mr. Red had to come back.