Nothing But Trouble

by Ashley Bostock

  Twelve twenty at night and there was only one place he wanted to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  The club was packed tonight. Men were over-crowded along the small tables, a few women sat sparsely throughout the club, and Sophia couldn’t help but keep an eye out on the sleaze bag who’d gotten into her wallet. Nothing had been stolen, but she’d told Jericho about it anyway. Who knew if the person had been in there before, and she at least wanted it to be known in case something serious happened in the future whether that be to her or someone else.

  With all the people present tonight, she knew she would make decent money. She wore a simple red bustier, matching stockings and red shoes that were tall enough she would break her neck if she fell. The bustier came in two pieces so Sophia could unzip the top from the front of the garment and take it off, while still leaving the bottoms on.

  The worst part about tonight was going to be the lap dances. With that many people, it was guaranteed that there were going to be numerous requests, and since she was on a mission to make thirteen hundred dollars, she was going full steam ahead. She had no other choice. She’d long ago given up her pride to do what needed to be done for herself and her grandmother. No one was more important than her grandmother and Sophia was on a new mission. Did she think tonight would net her what she needed? No. But it sure as hell was going to get her that much closer to her goal.

  Tonight, Jericho had the ribbons out, and even though it had been over a week since Sophia used them last, she was confident of the show she’d put on. Climbing to a high position, she secured one ribbon tightly around her ankle in a fluid motion before she made her drop. The ongoing whistles and catcalls from the crowd pushed her back up the taut fabric where she used her legs to wrap the ribbons around both ankles, letting them loosen so they fell, still tight, around her feet. Pulling the ribbons apart tightened them along the soles of her feet just as the move made her legs go out into a natural split. The men went crazy as the entire place got an eyeful of her G-string covered crotch. She pulled herself forward through the ribbons into a summersault and back again, enticing the men to throw more money on the stage amidst their cat calls.

  Ending her performance, she collected the stray bills from the stage, leaving the fucking quarter someone threw up there, and walked off. Barely to the dressing rooms, Jericho intercepted her in the hallway.

  “Gotta request. Specifically, for you. I know the guy. I put him in Alabaster for you. I know you’ll do your best.”

  She sighed. Very well. His compliment was more of a warning that she do her best, because if not, she’d be toast. Alabaster was their high-class room. Only V.I.P. used that room. Since she’d been mostly avoiding private dances, it’d been a while since Sophia last stepped foot in there. She quickly went pee and freshened herself up before making her way to the room. She didn’t have a clue who would request her. It wasn’t like she was popular, especially with the V.I.P. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d met recently who would want her specifically.

  Alabaster was a large room. The club’s nicest. Instead of dry-walled walls and crappy furniture, this place had been spruced up with tile accents, coffered ceilings and high-end cabinetry. The entry door and wall that ran along the hallway to the room was made up of a translucent-type of glass that couldn’t be seen through it. Sophia knocked on the glass, signaling her arrival and without waiting for a response, she pushed the door open.

  Sophia’s heart dropped at the sight before her. Her knees threatened to give out. All the things she didn’t want to happen were coming true. Michael and all his good looks, lounged lazily on one of the cushioned chairs. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hand through it over and over. His jacket laid nicely across his lap and the collar on his suit shirt was open and unbuttoned, allowing for his red tie to hang loose around his neck. Her heart thumped furiously in her chest as she took in every delicious square inch of him. She wanted that man more than she should. He wasn’t technically hers—hell, they were a fake couple—but she wanted him to be hers nonetheless.

  His height was evident by the way his long legs sprawled out in front of him. He was gorgeous. Every woman’s fantasy. The normal brown of his eyes were glowing embers in the dim light, reflecting an amber hue that made Sophia think of a tiger. His quiet demeanor and intense gaze made him look like he was a tiger on the prowl. But he gave nothing away. He had been expecting her. How had he found out? She was the one surprised to see him.

  “Michael.” Her voice came out breathy, unsure and full of surprise. It didn’t help that his beautiful face looked like it’d been carved from stone as she edged closer to him. His eyes were full of disdain. He was mad. She could feel the tension emanating from his body. Gone was the charmer, the man who chuckled at some of the quirky things she’d said. In his place was a man of mystery. An angry man of mystery. This was the Michael who ran Together.com – a man who she imagined got down to business quickly. Someone who didn’t bend until he got what he wanted. The man who didn’t negotiate for anything less than what he desired.

  His terms or no terms at all.

  Sophia inched even closer to him, thanking the heavens that she was at least covered. Somehow, her shield of cloth gave her comfort, confidence and she desperately needed it for whichever Michael she was up against.

  “Contessa Sophia.” He finally spoke, and his voice was rough, gravelly, like he needed a drink. That was when she noticed the tumbler of amber liquid next to him that matched his eyes. A nervous trill was racing through Sophia, and she couldn’t figure out what it was exactly. If she were to touch herself between her legs, she knew her fingers would be wet. The air was thick with tension, and the angriness that was emanating from his body left her slightly unbalanced. Part of her was unsure if her guard should be up because he was going to read her the riot act. The other part of her was turned on in a mysterious way.

  Now that Sophia had his attention, what should she do with it?

  “Guess you found me, huh?”

  When he didn’t say anything, Sophia stepped in front of him. The soft cloth from his suit pants rubbed gently against her knees.

  “Are you angry at me for not telling you? How did you find out? You have Aslan checking me out?” Sophia asked innocently.

  “How long have you worked here?” Michael asked curtly

  “Answer my questions first.”

  “No. Didn’t trust me enough to tell me?” He raised his eyebrows high on his forehead as he waited for her answer.

  “This isn’t about trust.”

  He smirked. His eyes glowed with a savage inner fire. “Isn’t it, though?”

  Was it? It was more about him judging her. Wanting nothing to do with her if he knew what she did for a living. If she took it away, he couldn’t judge her. Yeah, she guessed she hadn’t trusted him enough to decide on his own.

  “In a way, I suppose. Why are you here?” she asked.

  He lifted his dark eyebrows high on his forehead and leaned forward. Sophia could feel his uneven breath fan over her stomach through the eyelets of her bustier. She could see the hard length of him straining against his black slacks.

  “For you, of course. I came for my dance.” He smiled without humor.

  Tingles worked their way through her body, traveling straight to her core. She didn’t want their relationship to be tainted this way. Tainted with The Glass House. Once it was, he would be like any other guy she’d ever met. Any other man that wanted her for the thrills, her body, the outfits. The show. She wanted Michael to be the one man who didn’t want her that way. The one guy who didn’t want her for her lap dances.

  “I don’t want to dance for you.” Sophia shook her head, despite the pulsing between her legs.

  “It won’t be for free. Think of me as any other paying customer.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a wad of bills from it, laying them on the stand next to his drink.

  “Don’t do this. Why are you diminishing our relationshi
p this way?”

  “Our fake engagement? The one where the fiancé should at least know what his fiancée does for a living?” A small smile crept along his face but it wasn’t a real smile.

  “I don’t want to dance for you,” Sophia repeated.

  “Fine. I’ll let Jericho know one of his best girls isn’t the best after all. He personally assured me you would meet my demands.”

  Sophia licked her lips, hoping for something to quench her suddenly dry mouth. She hated how turned on she was by this coolheaded Michael. Every word he spoke was calculated. Crisp. He was absolutely right about Jericho. She would be fired if she didn’t do the dance and she couldn’t afford—

  “One thousand dollars, Sophia. All yours. All I want is one dance.”

  She swallowed down the dryness in her throat, wishing she had brought a tumbler of her own into the room with her. One thousand dollars? For one dance. She didn’t want to mix what they had up in this, but how could she say no? Sophia couldn’t refuse this. In essence, it would be like refusing her grandmother. If she did this one dance, she’d be able to get her grandmother’s prescription tomorrow. She wouldn’t have to dance for any other man. She could actually earn the money and possibly enjoy it even. She didn’t need to waste time debating. She knew what she would do the second he uttered the words, “one-thousand dollars.” Letting him go forever was a small price to pay for her grandmother’s well-being.

  It was the right thing to do.

  It was what she would sacrifice for the well-being of her grandmother.

  “Fine. Let me put on some music.”

  She moved away from him. Her emotions were all over the place. Anger. Trepidation. A weird feeling of partial arousal and hurt mixed inside of her like a cocktail. Part of her wanted to sit in his lap like they were old friends the way they were a week ago and share his drink with him. Discuss their future. Another part of her wanted to scream at him for making her an offer she couldn’t refuse. For him. For her grandmother.

  Sophia let out a determined sigh. If their fake relationship was going to end this way, it was going to be the best goddamn lap dance she’d ever performed in her life.

  She put on some nineties music, Pony by Ginuwine. Considering his age, Sophia’s guess was that he would be slightly familiar with the song, if not completely. The music was drawn out in a slow R&B way, even though it was full on hip-hop. She turned to him, smoothing her palms along her outfit, willing her nerves to get ready as the beginning notes of the song pounded through her blood. With his back to her, she was able to admire the curve of his neck and the strong lines of his jaw while she worked up the nerve.

  She tried to put her frame of mind into the place she went when she had to do private dances. A place where she was immune to human emotions. But because it was Michael, she was having a difficult time. She couldn’t seem to put him in the same place as all her other customers. She stood in front of him, and he set his drink down, all the while his eyes never tore away from hers. How she wished she knew exactly what he was thinking. It was almost like this was torture for him. Like he didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t stay away. He was that little boy who watched a scary movie with his hand over his eyes, only to peek through the cracks of his fingers because the need to see what was going to happen overrode the fear.

  When Sophia’s knees brushed his cloth-covered legs, she began to dance. She forced herself to look away from his heated gaze as she swayed her hips side to side, throwing her arms into the air in a smooth, graceful swing. Sophia picked up his jacket from his lap, tossing it onto another chair. She nudged herself between his legs so that she was moving within the partial triangle of them. The warmth of him seeped into her skin, and that was when she forgot everything except her and Michael and the four minutes that she had him in her world.

  She’d never danced to this song for anyone before, and she was surprised at how good it felt to lose herself in the music. Forgoing the wall she generally put up with other dances, she allowed herself to feel. To be the real her. To let go. This was her. Letting go completely, all for Michael. She swayed her hips, she bent to the ground, jiggled her booty, then she turned and spread her legs and sat across his lap. Sophia ignored how wet she was for him, feeling his erection rub against her scantily clad lady parts. She ignored all the emotions she saw in his eyes: pain, surprise, anger, arousal.

  Sophia pretended this dance wasn’t breaking her heart. She shook her half-covered breasts in his face. She pretended she didn’t feel his warm breath on her chest as she did. It was a simple choreographed dance she’d given time and time again where she pretended not to feel things. Only in this case, she pretended because she could feel them. Dear God, how she could feel them. Her body had become super-sensitized. His gaze alone was brandishing her with invisible burn marks.

  When his strong, large hands gripped her hips—which wasn’t allowed under normal circumstances—she came undone. She shimmied, she ground into him, she pumped herself up and down against him with no remorse, but when she went to unzip the top of her bustier, Michael’s hands locked onto hers. She tilted her head in question. Wasn’t this what he wanted to see for his thousand dollars? One swift jerk of his head, eyes hard and unwavering. No. He didn’t want her to do it. Didn’t want to see her chest and she had no idea why. She swallowed the bubble of shame she began to feel as his hands went back to her hips and as much as she wanted to speak and question him, she continued with the dance, albeit a little hurt. She swiveled. She flung her right leg over his shoulder and did a little pelvis thrust thing in his face.

  She did all the things she was taught to do for strangers.

  Except show her chest.

  She did a half-turn, her back to him and he spun her back around by the waist, so she was facing him again. His hooded eyes said it all. He wanted to watch her. To look in her eyes while she gave him this strange show, fully clothed yet somehow entirely too naked and vulnerable. Suddenly, Sophia was in his lap again, and her hands were on his shoulders, and he was helping her grind into him, humping against the hard length of his crotch. Slow at first, in time to the thumping bass of the music. Then his hands were digging into her hips, moving her faster as she dry humped his erection and before she knew it, fireworks were shooting behind her closed eyelids and she could feel the bursts of them against her nerve-endings. Sophia held onto the orgasm for as long as she could and like the end of the song, it was drug out until it was so quiet, it became silent.

  Without thinking, still sated from her life-changing orgasm, she kissed him.

  His lips tasted like liquor and power. Heat and arousal. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t move his lips either. She pushed her tongue inside of his mouth, and in the silence, he groaned-loud and needy. His hand pushed the back of her head into him, and he finally relaxed and kissed her.

  Three weeks of wondering what it would feel like crashed through her body. She could feel the tears collecting at the corners of her closed eyes because fuck. He kissed her back with perfection. With love. With promise. With ownership. He kissed so well, and the thought of The Glass House ruining that was simply breaking her. At first a small chunk and another. And now she felt as if that one life-changing kiss was the final chunk in her heart that was their relationship.

  Sophia jumped away from him, ending their first real kiss all too soon. Her mind was swirling with emotions and questions, but she couldn’t seem to get her throat to work. He drained the rest of his tumbler. The clink echoed in the silence as he set it down abruptly. Michael didn’t look at her as he stood and reached for his jacket. She watched him pull it over his broad shoulders, not bothering with his loose tie and partially unbuttoned shirt. Just as she thought she might be able to speak coherently, he turned toward her. That was when she noticed the small wet spots on the crotch of his pants. Heat spread across her cheeks, because that was how wet she was. How wet he made her. Had he noticed them too? His eyes were still dark, angry, aroused, and hurt—it took
everything in her not to run to him.

  “I didn’t want her to be right about you,” he said, his voice filled with anguish.

  Before Sophia could question what he meant, Michael was gone. Just like that. Michael was gone, and Sophia was standing vulnerable and alone inside the Alabaster room with a thousand dollars and a broken heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Michael ignored Sophia’s calls for two weeks. She hadn’t phoned every day, and sometimes when she did, she didn’t leave a message. He only knew it was her because he checked the missed calls on his office phone where Sophia’s name lit up and reminded him of his despair. Julia, as he tried hard to avoid her, knew something was up and managed to keep everything under wraps, feigning privacy for the couple.

  No one had a clue he hadn’t spoken to his fiancée in fourteen days.

  She took his money. She took it without even hesitating.

  He hated how Mindy was right about her. He hated Mindy even more for it. He hated everything right now. He despised himself for how wrong he had been about Sophia. That he’d thought she was sweet, young, innocent. Shocker. He’d picked the wrong woman yet again. He’d fallen for her. Hard. He hated to admit that, but it was the cold truth.

  How could he be so blind? The worst part was he still wanted her. Her silky-smooth body in that red get-up, rubbing against his body like he was her savior, killed him. Almost daily, he could taste her arousal in the air. It was his necessary punishment. He wanted to punish himself for being so blinded by her and her fucking non-selfie photos. She’d definitely punished Michael with that damn dance. Put more naughty thoughts into his head than it could handle.

  It had been more than he expected.

  God, why are you doing this to me?

  It was better than anything he’d ever had or imagined. It was the orgasm on his dick that had him craving more. He swore that he’d felt her pussy lips twitching through their clothes as he helped her ride him to orgasm. What would it have felt like to sink his fingers into her as she straddled him? Then the worst happened.