RONAN

by Nina West

  “Yeah. A few months ago.”

  “How long were you together for?”

  “Four years. Give or take.”

  “Wow. And here I was, crying over eighteen months wasted.”

  “That’s a good chunk of time, too.” This is good. We’ve found something in common—our broken hearts. I lean against the wall. “Why’d you guys break up?”

  Her jaw tightens. At first I think she’s not going to answer. “He said he loves me too much and he’s not ready for that kind of commitment yet.” She pauses to chew her bottom lip in thought. “Do you think that’s some bullshit line?”

  Yes. “Hard to say. You’ll probably find out soon enough.” With a line like that, my gut says the guy is already dick-deep in another girl. But I can’t tell Ryan that. “Tasha told me she needed some space to make sure she loved me.” I smile bitterly. “She hooked up with one of my friends two weeks later.”

  “Ouch.” Ryan slides off her glasses, cleaning the lenses with the hem of her T-shirt. When she glances up at me, I see hints of sympathy. “So you moved down to Miami to what? Get over her?”

  Get over her. Forget about her. Keep myself occupied until she decides she loves me again. That last one sounds about right. I couldn’t stand being in the same city as her and knowing she was out with other guys. “I just needed a change, and I’ve heard this city is the place to be.”

  “If you’re like my brother, then it is.”

  “I’m not like your brother.”

  “I guess we’ll see.” Again, that shrewd gaze drifts over my body. She’s already seen me naked; I wonder if she’s picturing me naked right now.

  Blood starts flowing south and I have to shift my stance, ever aware of how fitted these pants are and that they don’t hide raging erections well.

  Her eyes widen, as if she just caught herself checking me out. Standing taller, she says, “Don’t touch my stuff anymore. I’m weird about my space. I like things a certain way.” With that she disappears into her room.

  I heave a sigh, glancing at my watch again. I’m no longer tired; the five-minute exposure to her, first to her sharp side, followed by something softer, has my blood racing through my body. I need to get out of here.

  Thank God, Connor plows through the door then. “Two minutes! The ladies are waiting.”

  Chapter 4

  “...and then she said ‘no way! You first!’ and I said, ‘no way, you first!’ and none of us went at all!” Sherrie and Georgia throw their heads back and cackle with boisterous laughter.

  I take another swig of my drink, long since needing to move on to the hard stuff.

  “Another round?” Connor’s eyes are twinkling. Sherrie’s hands have been glued to his chest since we walked through the doors of the club. It’s only a matter of time before they make their way south to his lap. He knows he’s getting laid tonight and he’s as happy as an alley cat in a tuna factory.

  Georgia’s been less forward, but I’m guessing that’s more on account of me being... me. I’m not outgoing and flirtatious like Connor. That’s not to say I don’t know the right words to say, or that I even need to say anything to attract women. But I’ve had plenty of them tell me that I’m intimidating—my green eyes are broody, my hard jaw is unyielding to easy smiles, my tattoos and buzz cut give me a dangerous edge. Whether they find all that attractive or they’re attracted to the idea of taming me, I can’t be sure. Either way, a lot of women throw themselves at me without me having to lift a finger. It used to drive Tasha crazy. She’d get so jealous, accuse me of cheating on her. No one seems to believe that I never touched another woman while I was with her.

  I have since she dumped me. Twice, back in Indy. Both were girls I picked up at a club. I ended up at their places. Neither were anything to think twice about. Pretty, but without personalities. Decent lays, but nothing mind-bending. Both times, I actually found myself relieved to be walking out their doors, tossing their phone numbers as soon as I rounded the corner.

  Maybe that’s why I’m not making too much of an effort tonight. I’d be just as happy to go home alone and sleep.

  “I think I want to switch to something less sweet. What are you drinking, Ronan?” Georgia sidles closer to me. That’s what it’s been all night—her nudging my thigh here and there, resting her fingers on my biceps occasionally. She’s batted her eyes plenty. Subtle moves to let me know she’s interested but unsure how aggressive to be. But with each drink, the leash that holds her back slackens.

  “Jack and Coke.”

  “Is it any good?” She smiles sweetly at me. She really is as stunning as that picture I saw, though a lot of it is makeup. I can’t imagine her being nearly this stunning when she wakes up.

  I hold the drink out to her.

  Her eyes flash with excitement as she leans over, parting her lips for the tip of the straw. She makes a point of looking up at me through those soulful milk-chocolate eyes as she sucks. “Mmmm... Yes. I definitely want this.” She finishes it off with a swipe of her tongue along her bottom lip.

  Yeah, I’m definitely getting laid tonight, if I want it.

  “All right, this fucking waitress of ours is never coming back. We’ll go to the bar and grab a round. ” Connor tilts his head, signaling for me to follow.

  “Don’t let anyone take our spots.”

  “Never.” Georgia giggles, her eyes searing my body as I climb out of my seat in the shadowy alcove at the back of Sin nightclub. We’re in the VIP section, and apparently it’s impossible to get a table back there, but Sherrie is best friends with one of the managers.

  I’m not gonna lie: I’ll take a VIP booth in the dark over the crowds of sweaty bodies.

  But that’s where we’re heading now, as I follow Connor, the music pulsing louder with each step.

  I can’t help but smile, pressing through the throng of bodies toward the closest bar, hordes of people surrounding it. I’ve never seen so many scantily clad, beautiful women in my life. The per capita of hot bodies in Miami is off the charts. I guess there’s something about beach life—when you live in a place where you own almost as many bikinis as you do other outfits, you tend to go the extra mile to look good in them. And, damn, these women look good.

  I spot our cocktail waitress approaching us and my smile grows wider as I take in the sight. Full gold, orange, and black body paint from head to toe, and she’s wearing nothing but heels, a G-string, and pasties to cover her nipples. It’s one helluva uniform for a nightclub. All the servers are dressed and painted like various animals. Ours is a lion. Or a lioness, to be exact.

  “I was just coming over to you guys,” she purrs, not an ounce of shyness over her revealing outfit or my appraisal of it as she steps closer to me. There’s maybe an inch between my chest and her double-D tits. They’re obviously fake, but beautiful. “I’m so sorry. We’re short-staffed tonight.”

  Maybe it’s the Jack, but damn, this costume is sexy. So is her confidence. If I had her in the VIP area instead of Georgia, I’d be more eager. “It’s okay. We needed to stretch our legs.”

  “What’s your name?” Her lips graze my earlobe.

  “Ronan.”

  “Hi, Ronan. So, is the brunette at your table your girlfriend?”

  I grin. “Just for tonight.”

  She grins back. “My name’s Becca.”

  “Hey, Becca. Does that paint rub off on hands?” My gaze drops to her breasts, my palms itching to feel the weight of them.

  “It will if your hands are wet. And my boss wouldn’t be too happy about handprints on my body this early in the night.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Her lips part. “But how about later?”

  I jump at the feel of a hand smoothing over my groin; I don’t have to look down to know it’s hers. I can’t get away, even if I want to. I’m surrounded by people in every direction, all of them clueless as the lioness server rubs my dick hard.

  “I think you are incredibly sexy. Maybe you can give me
your number and we can....”

  From the corner of my eye, I notice Connor’s large frame about twenty feet away, standing too close and menacingly to some lanky guy for it to end well.

  Shit. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta help my friend. Come by the table.” I skirt past her and push my way through, trying to will my erection down as I close the distance. I grab hold of Connor’s shoulders and squeeze. “Hey, what’s up, bro?”

  “Look who I ran into!” Connor exclaims with mock cheeriness.

  “I don’t know this guy.” He’s skinny and has a hipster vibe to him, his shoes brown and long and slightly wing-tipped, his pants tapered, his shirt fitted and untucked. He’s nervous, that much is obvious by the way he keeps glancing around him, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it off his face.

  For Connor to lose his charming edge, he must be pissed. And Connor’s a big guy. This dude better be afraid.

  “This is Ryan’s ex, David.”

  Oh.

  “He works at Wolf, in accounting. And that girl over there works in reception.” He nods toward a pretty, tall blonde standing about five feet away, looking equally nervous.

  Oh.

  “I was just telling David how sweet it is, the way he had his arm wrapped around her. You know, since he just broke up with my sister last night.”

  Fuck. The dick isn’t just with another girl. He’s with a girl who works at Wolf.

  Poor Ryan. She’s gonna hear about this by Monday morning. The fact that she has to work in the same office as her ex is bad enough. And now he’s dating someone else there. What is it with hotels and staffers banging each other like rabbits, thinking no one will find out about it? The Outdoor crew guys have a bad rep but some of these office people aren’t much better.

  A quick glance around shows me that five different bouncers are watching us, ready to move in. I don’t want to get kicked out. Not before I see our server again. “Come on. You’ve gotta let Ryan deal with this in her own way. You’ll only make it worse. Let’s go.”

  At first I don’t think he’s going to listen. But finally he moves away, carving a path straight to the bar.

  “How the fuck does Poindexter land a chick like that? He’s got to be a hundred pounds soaking wet. Does he have a magical dick or something?”

  “I don’t get it, either.”

  “I mean, my sister and him were one thing but....”

  “Your sister’s not exactly hard to look at.”

  “You know what I mean. She’s all scholarly, doing her master’s and shit.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Connor eyes me. “Have you been checking out my sister?”

  “No, man.” It’s an automatic response. A lie, but a necessary one. Sisters are off-limits.

  “Good. Because I don’t think I’d be okay with that.”

  I snort. “Dude, then why do you keep trying to push her on me?”

  “Because I like to bug the shit out of her. But if I ever thought she’d actually bite, I wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll bite. My dick, off my body. No thanks. I like my dick whole and attached. But you know what?” I pat Connor’s back. “I’m glad to see you actually do know how to be a good brother, and give a damn about something besides getting laid.”

  The bartender comes by to take our order. Connor orders and pays for the round, his gaze roving over the beautiful women around the bar. “Ah well. She’ll find someone new soon enough. And speaking of getting laid....” He grabs two of the drinks and begins carving a path through the crowd, back to our table.

  It’s so dark in the VIP section that we have a hard time finding our corner, stumbling up a step or two to where Sherrie and Georgia are on their feet, grinding against each other to the heavy beat of the music.

  “Damn.” Connor grins wide. “What do you think about swapping halfway through?”

  “How about you take both and I’ll take our server.”

  His brow arches knowingly. “The paint, right? You wanna leave fingerprints all over her.”

  “Fucking right, I do.”

  Sherrie waves her hand at the row of shot glasses on the table. “Look what our waitress brought over to apologize for taking so long!”

  They’re all empty. I lift one to sniff it.

  “Tequila!” They both shout, lifting their arms over their heads.

  Connor and I share a look—one that says neither of us is getting laid tonight, unless it happens soon. These two just downed two shots apiece in a matter of five minutes, after plenty to drink already.

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” He nods to my glass. “Drink up.”

  Georgia’s hips sway as she rounds the table. Still dancing, she runs her hands from my stomach all the way to my chest, her fingertips curling around the collar of my shirt. “You guys took a long time.”

  Not more than ten minutes, but in drunk girl time, I guess that’s forever. “You should have some water.”

  “Hmm....” She’s so close, all I can smell is her lotus flower perfume and tequila. “I don’t want water. Do you know what I do want?”

  “I think I can guess.”

  She steps in close enough to grind against me. Her eyes light up with excitement. “It looks like someone’s excited to see me.”

  Or just excited, thanks to Becca.

  My hands are full of our drinks so I can’t do much when Georgia’s fingers, less expert but no less welcome, slide over the hard ridge in my pants, rubbing back and forth.

  “You’re a big boy,” she purrs into my ear, and my dick jumps in response, like a lap dog excited by praise. With a giggle, she draws my zipper down and slips her hand inside to grip me, the warmth of her hand even through the cotton of my briefs bringing a soft groan to my lips. I glance over to see Sherrie push Connor back into the lounge chair and climb onto his lap, her short skirt riding up to show the black lace of her G-string. All around us, people are in their own little worlds, laughing, dancing, semicovertly sniffing lines of coke off side tables. I wonder if it’s this place or Miami in general, but no one seems to care who’s watching.

  And, truthfully, I don’t care much either right now. I suck back half my drink, knowing I’m going to have to finish Georgia’s too. And then we’re gonna have to get out of here because I need those red lips around my cock.

  She must be able to read my mind because I feel the sharp tug of my belt buckle being unfastened. Fuck... is she actually going to—

  Cool fingers graze against my skin as she peels my briefs down and pulls my dick right out into the open.

  Jesus. At least my back is to the place.

  She seats herself on the chair in front of me, giving me a lascivious smile as she leans forward and runs her tongue along my full length.

  I can’t help but glance over to see if Connor knows what’s going on. But he’s otherwise occupied, his hands gripping Sherrie’s ass tight as she straddles his lap, grinding against him so hard there’s no way he’s not going to come in his pants.

  Just like there’s no way I’m going to stop Georgia now.

  I chug the rest of my drink and gently toss the glass toward the couch. Bits of ice spill onto the smooth surface. It’s a bar—they must be used to spilled drinks around here. With my free hand, I weave my fingers through the back of Georgia’s hair as I guide myself into her warm mouth. She accepts me without hesitation and fully, until I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. My knees buckle slightly.

  Sherrie wasn’t kidding—her friend loves to suck dick and she’s damn good at it, her deceptive doe eyes locked on mine as her head bobs up and down, her long fingernails digging into my hips painfully. She has literally no gag reflex.

  I feel myself swelling and tightening. I just may actually blow my load in her mouth, right here in the back of this club. Something I can’t say I’ve done before. While Tasha was wild between the sheets, it was always behind the safety of a door, and with just the two of us.

/>   A light hand settles on my shoulder. I turn to see Becca standing next to me. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that in here.”

  “Why not? Because you want to be the one doing it?” I’m turning into an obnoxious ass, thanks to the Jack. But seriously, people are practically fucking on the dance floor, and I’ll be done in a few minutes.

  “Because it’s considered public indecency. It’s frowned upon.” Something about the way she says that makes my dick swell more. A knowing look passes through her eyes as they drop from my face to where Georgia sucks. When her gaze lifts again, I see the heat in them. “You better finish up before the bouncers come.”

  I smirk. “Define finish up?” Does she mean stop or....

  She adjusts her grip on her empty drink tray, tucking it under her arm to block the view of passersby as she settles a hand over mine. She guides Georgia’s head, urging her on faster, deeper, her painted breast rubbing against my biceps. Even the pasty can’t hide her hardened nipples.

  This lioness is something else.

  Over her shoulder, I see that Sherrie has reversed on Connor’s lap and is grinding her ass into him now. Connor’s head has fallen back against the couch, his lips parted, a euphoric look on his face as he stares up at the ceiling.

  I can’t believe this is happening. “Fuck me....” I’m in heaven.

  “I was hoping to,” the waitress murmurs.

  I chug Georgia’s drink and toss the glass aside, my gaze locked on the waitress’s stunning body. It’s probably wrong to be drooling over her while Georgia is blowing me, but I can’t help it, and neither Georgia nor Becca seem to mind.

  “I really need to touch you.” I’m ready to explode.

  A small smile curls Becca’s lips as she adjusts her stance, parting her legs a touch more. “Nowhere that I’m painted.”

  That leaves me only one place.

  I graze my finger along the front of her G-string, waiting for her to stop me.

  She smiles.