Exquisite Taste

by J. D. Hollyfield

I raise a brow with confusion. “Your parents named you Jensen?”

  “Ones who wanted a boy. Your parents named you after the son of Satan?”

  “Ones who expected very powerful things from their child.”

  She takes a long look at me, her plump lips pursed. Imagining those pouty lips painted a deep shade of red and wrapped around my cock, I hide my sudden, and unexpected, arousal. She’s a natural beauty, and her perfect teeth tell me she had a good upbringing—parents who made sure their daughter brushed her teeth and said her prayers each night.

  She pulls at the front of her dress, bringing my eyes to her chest. The dress really does nothing for her. Women who dress in those type of clothes know how to wear them, but she looks out of place in the tight material. My curiosity builds, but I turn away and take a seat at my desk. She doesn’t move at first, then follows suit and sits across from me.

  “I can have you arrested for trespassing. This is a twenty-one-and-over club.” I keep my expression blank.

  “And what would you tell them? That your doorman took a fake ID and allowed an underage girl in? That doesn’t seem smart.”

  Her feisty mouth has my hand twitching. No one dares to talk to me the way she just did, let alone challenge me. Her eyes shine with determination, but I’m the one who will come out ahead of this. “I can assure you the Chicago Police Department will turn a blind eye to my staff’s mishap. I’m not sure I can say the same for you when they arrest you.” Threading my fingers together, I rest my arms on my chair and wait for her next move. She has yet to explain why she’s here in the first place, or why she requested to speak to me.

  “Look, I’m not here to cause anyone trouble. I just need something from you and I’ll be on my way.”

  I start to lose the smile that’s forming on my face. Nothing from me is that simple. I don’t hand out favors. I certainly don’t offer anyone my charity. If you want something, it comes with a price. I continue to stare her down, keeping my eyes locked with hers and not on her overexposed breasts. “I’m not sure I can help you with that, Ms. Jensen. You see, nothing I have to offer comes for free.”

  I love it when a woman squirms. When their skin changes color at the mere thought of what they would possibly have to endure in exchange for what they want. The sudden realization they may have made the wrong decision by propositioning me. Once in my den, it’s too late to back down. Jensen becomes uncomfortable in my leather chair. She clutches the hem of her too-short dress, which does nothing to hide the cream panties I noticed the second she sat down and tried to pull it down her thighs.

  “Listen, son of Satan, I’m not here for any of that sort of business. I just need…I just…I need a contract and I’ll be on my way.”

  I’m not sure whether to be mad or amused by her nickname. What does get my attention is her request for a contract. My smile finally breaks through and I lean forward, placing my hands on my mahogany desk. “You want a contract,” I reply, more as a statement than a question.

  “Yep. It doesn’t have to be filled out or anything, just the paperwork will do.”

  “And assuming I have this contract you speak of, you need what with it?”

  She crosses her legs, then quickly realizes her mistake and uncrosses. But the damage is already done. Her panties were exposed to me once again, along with her porcelain thighs leading up to them.

  “Listen, I’m not interested in what goes on here. Nor am I going to tell. I just need…I have to…I accepted this dare if you will…” She pauses, leaving me to wonder where she’s going with this. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come across a curious girl wanting to know what goes on in a sex club, and she won’t be the last. I stay silent, her level of comfort decreasing with each passing moment. She wants to appear tough and unfazed, but there’s no hiding the beating pulse in her neck, the flush of her cheeks, and the small tremble of her fingers as they tap on the armrest. “I accepted a challenge from this devil chick, you may know her, being from the same town, Hell and all, and to save my best friend from four years of hating me for getting in the way of her sisterhood dreams, I need to get my hands on your contract.”

  I continue to hold my tongue, enjoying how uneasy she’s become.

  She shuffles once again in her chair, trying to adjust her dress but failing. “Can you please stop looking at me like that? It’s making me uncomfortable.”

  “What way am I looking at you?” I ask, knowing exactly how I’m looking at her. I’m devouring her with my eyes. Why I feel the need to tempt myself with her, I’m not sure. She’s nothing close to the type of women I crave. She’s too young, plain as can be, right down to her pristine cream panties, and I don’t have to ask to know she’s inexperienced. Her innocence is not something I want to get involved with. Even if the thought of molding her into the perfect pet causes my pants to tent. Fuck, what I could teach those lips to do. Those hands. Her taut little body.

  “You…you’re just… Ugh, like that! Can I just get that contract?”

  “No.” I’m up and out of my chair, startling her with my abrupt movement. Enough of the games. This is getting ridiculous. To the point where I’m beginning to visualize her bent over my desk while I mark her bare skin with my eager palm.

  “What do you mean, no? Like, no, I can’t have it? Or no, you won’t stop looking at me?” She jumps to her feet, following me as I head to the door. I open it and step aside.

  “I think we’re done here. Run along, back to your babysitter’s club. I have a business to run.”

  Her gasp doesn’t go unnoticed and her eyes immediately change, filling with anger. Her face, once nervous, transforms back to the same confidence she had when she first arrived. “I’m not leaving until I get that contract. Just give it to me.”

  “No.”

  “And why not? What’s the big deal? Just pretend I applied for it, so you have to give it to me.”

  “And are you applying for it?”

  Her eyes widen. “No, of course not! Do I look like I’m interested in all that sick petting shit?”

  My hand is off the door handle and up around the back of her neck. My fingers are still gentle, but the urge to squeeze until she begs and submits is vehement. “What makes you think you’re not?” I lean forward, invading her personal space. “Have you ever been properly petted?” I fight not to laugh at the sudden uneasiness in her eyes.

  I caress the bare flesh of her neck with my thumb, my voice dropping an octave. “Tell me, what would you do if I pushed you against this door, pressed my lips here…” I press into the spot just below her ear. “And stroke my tongue exactly where your pulse is beating erratically?”

  I take a slow step toward her, closing the gap between us, and she retreats one step back. “You know what that means?” I press harder over her vein. “The way your heart rate has picked up? The way all five senses yell danger, yet your endorphins are letting off a hormonal sensor that screams curiosity even louder. You’re not one of those girls, but the fact that you haven’t bothered to fight me off yet tells me you may want to be.”

  Her lips part and I get the sudden desire to shove my tongue inside her mouth. I take another step forward and get the pleasure of her body pressed against mine. I smile at her loss of confidence as she gasps, realizing her mistake. She shuffles back, and I follow step for step until her back hits the door and I have her cornered. My head dips and goose bumps rise over her skin beneath my fingertips as my warm breath coasts along her flesh.

  “I’ve had my hand around your neck for over a minute and a half now,” I whisper against her earlobe. “You haven’t even screamed for help, nor tried to fight me off. Haven’t even shown a bit of defiance for someone who isn’t into ‘sick petting shit.’” I end with my mouth a hairsbreadth from her neck, her pulse so erratic, I almost feel the vibrations on my lips. Her breath quickens. If I wanted to take this farther, she’d let me. No questions asked.

  But she’s far from what I need.

  Jensen tilt
s her head slightly to the side, allowing me better access to her neck, and I release her. She stumbles back and falls limp against the door at my brute action, but I don’t bother to help steady her. “As I said, no.” I take a step to the side. “Goodnight, Ms. Jensen.” I reach for the door, enjoying the fire that ignites in her emerald green eyes.

  “You…asshole.”

  My grip tightens around the handle as my dick rages with need. Twice, she’s had the nerve to speak to me with such a tongue. Her mouth pisses me off, but the thought of punishing her for it turns me red hot.

  I need her gone.

  I throw the door open, and she jumps. “That I may be, pet, but I’m an asshole who has no room for the plain likes of you. Just as you said, your unlikeliness to survive one night in this club is the reason why applying would be nonsense. Go home, back to your pampered life. Return to whoever allowed you to borrow their dress, which looks horrendous on you, and forget about your silly dare. You’ve wasted enough of my time. Out.”

  My words are harsh, but they do the job. I’ve driven her mute. If she’s smart, she’ll stay that way and leave my office. At least read the cold look on my face. No one, even a child like herself, insults me in my own club.

  “You can try to offend me all you want, I don’t give a shit. Trust me, you aren’t anything to call home about either.”

  I laugh. “I’m deeply wounded, but I haven’t gotten to where I am by being nothing to call home about.”

  “Well, you disgust me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, making her breasts more appealing.

  “Noted. Out you go.” I place my hand on her back to help her out, but it gets shoved off.

  “Do not touch me.”

  Strike three. My hand twitches, fighting off the need to grace her ass with a good smack. Teach her a lesson for being so disobedient. “You’re really testing my patience,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “I suggest you leave before I have you escorted out by your hair.”

  Her mouth drops instantly. It wasn’t my intention to speak that harshly, but my temper is at its breaking point. If I don’t get her out of my sight, I can’t be responsible for what I might do.

  “You know what? With pleasure.” She turns and steps outside my office, spinning back. “Have fun burning in hell, son of Satan.”

  “I most certainly will, Ms. Jensen.”

  And then my vision of her is cut off by the door slamming in her face. My heart rate picks up, my hands at a small jitter. Lifting my palms, I wipe the stress from my face and walk back to the mirrored window. After a few moments, I see her storm through the crowd, then turn and lift her middle finger to the window. I laugh at her courageousness—which is so unlike me. No one has attempted to speak to me like that in a very long time.

  Not three minutes later, a knock sounds as the door opens. “Damien, the girl’s being put in a cab.”

  “Good.” I turn away from the window and head toward my desk. “I want to know the location of where she’s dropped off. Then I want to know everything about her.”

  “Damien—” Fredrick hesitates, trying to argue, but I cut him off.

  “Everything.”

  THAT NO GOOD, GRIMY, FULL of himself, jerk.

  I shove my foot into my Converse and repeat with the other foot. Saturday night, after being pushed in a cab by one of Satan’s goons, I went back to my dorm room and debated how I was going to tell my best friend she was about to be barred from joining the sisterhood of the she-devils. Why did I have to go all Professor BDSM last night and act like I knew anything about sex clubs? I barely finished reading the Shades of Whatever series, let alone have any knowledge of what goes on in them. And I don’t think those books had anything to do with sex clubs in the first place! Gah!

  I grab for my jacket, taking a quick glimpse in the mirror. Today, I feel more myself dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a worn Stone Temple Pilots t-shirt that hangs over my shoulder, exposing my black tank top strap.

  I’d love to deny it, but when I got home, I did exactly as he instructed and ripped off that dumb dress and threw it down the hall for whoever lent it to Christine to claim. If she knew what was good for her, she would leave it there too. Not that I cared what that asshole said about me in it. I partially agreed with him. I looked like a fool. Dressed up like a doll in something that was far from the person I was. As I laid in bed debating how to fix the shit storm I got myself into, my thoughts kept going back to him. Every time I tried to sleep, his eyes would haunt me. I can still feel the heat from where his large palm touched my back. See the way his expression turned to stone when I stood up to him. I smile at the way I struck a nerve. Good.

  But then I remember the hurtful way he spoke to me. The way he described me. In all its truthful, sad glory. I wanted to take a good swing at him for being so hateful and rude. But he was just speaking the truth. That’s exactly who I was. Plain. Boring. My auburn hair sits flat, unlike that blonde she-devil that has bounce for days. I don’t wear makeup ’cause it most likely wouldn’t help, and I don’t bother too much with my wardrobe because let’s be real, I’m a stick. My mom was a stick. And her mother…

  I wasn’t bred to have those curves guys want. If I were honest, my shirt is hanging off my shoulder, not by style, but by inconvenience of my thin shoulder bone.

  The way he spoke down to me still didn’t hurt any less. Or the way he looked at me, as if I’m so hard on the eyes, he couldn’t take another second of me in his presence. Not to mention he was a jerk and I didn’t get the contract. I tossed and turned all night. Christine’s going to hate me. She wanted this so bad, and I’m taking it from her.

  I could google a contract. Make one up. I could just fess up and say I lied and beg them not to take it out on my best friend who wants nothing more than to join the blood-suckers. Or…I could go back. And as I jammed my arms through my worn pleather jacket, I knew I was going to regret any option I settled on.

  I look at the time, and guilt washes over me as I watch the clock hit three in the afternoon. For my plan to work, I have to ditch my Monday afternoon Human Ethics class. I message my professor, telling him I’m not feeling well and I’ll do what it takes to make up the time. If I enter the club during the day, I’ll hopefully hit the cleaning crew, then I can pretend to be one of them and get my ass into Damien’s office.

  I was smart enough to watch his bodyguard type in the code for the elevator, and I had to roll my eyes at the triple sixes. How cocky can one person be? I wonder if he saw through my lies when I told him he was nothing to call home about. He was far from unattractive. His height was domineering at way over six feet, and there was no hiding how fit he was by the muscular outline of his button-down dress shirt. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and those eyes…their color was indescribable. One may call them hazel, but it doesn’t do them justice. Amber would be the best way to describe them. The way they seared into me. In my dream last night, they looked at me with need. Lust. His strong hands didn’t shy away like they had in his office. They touched me in places that have yet to be sought.

  I shake off the crazy. I do not need to be daydreaming about the son of Satan and his asshole ways. I need to get in his office and get that contract without getting caught. My friendship with the only friend I have at the moment depends on it.

  I take a cab downtown and walk the five blocks to the unincorporated bar district. The club is located on the outskirts of town but isn’t difficult to find. Without a sign, it’s hard to locate again, but then I recognize the alley I got thrown out of.

  I have no problem getting inside. The way I’m dressed, I fit right in with the cleaning staff. I walk back to the private elevator and enter in the code, which it accepts. My brows rise in surprise when I turn the doorknob to his office and it opens without resistance. I was prepared to jimmy it but turning the knob and gaining entry is a plus. I enter his office, and the smell of him surrounds me. It pains me to admit it, but the scent is so strong and enticing, I want to ca
pture some of it and take it home with me. It’s a shame the owner of the alluring scent is a jerk. I brush it off and make my way straight to his desk. He has to keep them in here. I start with the middle drawer, and nothing.

  “Dammit.”

  I try the side drawers, all with the same conclusion. Pulling a bobby pin from my ponytail, I kneel, placing my face close to the lock. I stick the pin inside and use another pin to wiggle the side of the—

  “It’s a new desk. Meant to withstand a measly hairpin.”

  At the sound of the familiar voice, my whole body jumps, and I bash my head into the desk. “Crap!” I yelp, dropping my pins as I grab for my poor nose.

  I look over, and holy mother Mary and baby Jesus in a manger. My mouth parts as air whooshes from my lungs. He’s soaking wet—from a shower or sweat, I’m not sure. The room starts to feel too small, and my skin starts to feel too hot as I take in his slicked back hair, the shirt clinging to his skin, and the shorts sculpting to his…fuck. The devil should always steer clear of Prada and definitely work in basketball shorts. I gulp and jerk my gaze up, the bruise surely forming on my face almost forgotten. When I meet his eyes, my hands start to tremble. I’m in real trouble.

  “You have five seconds to explain yourself. Then I’m calling security.”

  I stand up, throwing the loose strands of hair behind my ear. I’m not really sure what to say, so I blurt out the first thing I can think of. “I told you. I need that contract.”

  “And I told you no.” His voice echoes through the room. Nope. No hiding his anger. I’ll admit, he has me rattled. My knees are shaking, and my palms begin to sweat. His deep frown and dark eyes are eating me whole as they stare me down giving me more than enough reason to be a little freaked out, but if I show him he intimidates me, it’ll only make matters worse. So, I inhale a large breath and lift my chin.

  “Well, I don’t accept your answer.”

  Stupid, stupid girl, I silently curse myself.

  It’s as if watching a match light, setting the fire blazing in his eyes. He takes the towel from his hand and tosses it to the side of the room. One step, two steps, three…shit. I think he’s going to try to strangle me. Four steps, five… Yep, he’s going to strangle me. I take a retreating step and trip backward into his office chair.