by Kit Rocha
She emerged with a flourish, both fans spread over the front of her body. It left her back bare when she spun around, presenting the audience with the one part of her still covered—her full, beautiful, mouthwatering ass.
She moved her hips in time with the music, bumping left and then right before circling in a slow grind. The whistles and cheers swelled again, and Trix’s hair spilled over her back as she craned her head to look at them.
At him.
She winked, then slowly licked her shoulder.
She might as well have licked his cock.
Arousal in public wasn’t a new thing. He’d had Trix crawling in his lap during Sector Five parties. He’d had her hands and her mouth on his dick. Usually while he was bombed out of his skull, high enough for the world to be numb even if his body never was. Not numb enough. Not while she was around.
This was different. Hotter, and flat-out wrong. Every man in the crowd was picturing what was beneath those fans, imagining that her saucy winks and the flirtatious swing of her hips was for him alone.
But it wasn’t. This wasn’t for them, or even for him. Trix was in her element, reveling in every scrap of freedom she’d won, showing off the body she’d reclaimed from the faded wraith she’d been.
She was a goddess, and not a man in this room was worthy of her little piece of heaven.
She resumed her dance. The fans spun in careful time, revealing no more than flashes of pale skin as she twirled. Then the music slowed to a careful, sensuous rhythm, and she slowed with it, sliding the fans over her body.
He couldn’t hear it, so he almost missed her hitching gasp. But when she arched her back, one nipple peeked through the green feathers—hard, a shade darker than usual. The way they got when she was turned on.
Oh yeah, this dance was all for her, and she was getting off on it.
Hawk tried to pull the bottle out of his hand, and Finn bared his teeth. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Let him keep the whiskey. There’s more where that came from.” Jas chuckled and motioned to the bar. “Besides, he looks like he needs it.”
Finn felt secure enough to mutter, “Fuck off,” as a brunette approached the table with another bottle. She was wearing a corset, too, and though her rack wasn’t as impressive as Trix’s, it was on enough display that someone should have tried to catch an eyeful on her way past.
When the girl thumped the bottle to the table and leaned over to kiss Jasper, Finn understood why no one was risking it. Up close, the decorative ink wrapped around her throat proved to be more than simple lace. Jasper’s name was woven into it, the J resting in the hollow of her throat.
Noelle Cunningham, then. Eden’s most infamous refugee. Finn had been vaguely aware of her during her life as a councilman’s daughter, mostly because her father had been bitter enemies with Gareth Woods, Fleming’s pet council member. Her fall from grace had been spectacular, though, and it had altered the course of Finn’s life in ways she’d never know.
It all came back to Woods. Fleming’s ally. Cunningham’s enemy. Jade’s patron, the man who’d demanded her drugged into helpless addiction to ensure her obedience. Every two weeks, Finn had made the miserable trek to Fleming’s private love nest. He’d delivered the drugs that kept Jade weak and docile. He’d hated himself, hated Fleming, hated Woods...
That hell might have gone on forever if Woods hadn’t tried to kill Noelle. It had been like watching dominoes fall after that, the O’Kanes sweeping through Woods’ life on the path of vengeance. They’d rescued Jade, left a dead councilman in their wake—and given Finn the opportunity to sever the relationship between Five and Two for good.
All because one girl had walked into the sectors and fallen in love with an O’Kane.
She didn’t look much like a councilman’s daughter anymore. She perched next to Jas and gave Finn a look of pure, gleeful mischief. “Has anyone warned you that the glitter gets everywhere? And you can’t wash it off.”
Finn glanced at the stage, at the elegant line of Trix’s spine, her pale skin iridescent as each tiny flake caught the light. Yeah, when this show came to an end, he was going to get that shit all over himself. “A real man can handle a little glitter.”
Bren snorted. “She’s just busting your balls.”
“You say that because Six doesn’t wear glitter.” Noelle rose, running her fingertips over Jas’s shoulder in an absent caress that seemed second nature. The O’Kanes were always touching each other, hugs and slaps on the back and friendly kisses, but this was more. Her fingers found him the way Finn’s lingered on Trix, because being around her without touching her just felt wrong.
“You can watch the show from out here if you want,” she continued. “Or you can go through the door on the other end of the VIP section and get the backstage view.” She grinned and sank her hand into Jas’s hair. “You’re a fan of it, aren’t you, baby?”
His hand landed on her hip. He squeezed tight, his fingers digging into her skin. “You know it.”
Finn glanced at Bren, who shrugged one shoulder. “Better move fast, or she’ll be done before you get there.”
From the sleepy, aroused look in Trix’s eyes and the languid, sensual pivot of her hips, it might be true in more ways than one. So Finn abandoned his new friends, abandoned his liquor, and went for the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Trix was always high after a performance. The adrenaline that rushed through her veins was powerful, undeniable, jacking her up in ways her body only knew how to associate with drugs or sex.
These days, it was sex. As the harsh lights heated the sweat sheening her skin, Trix took her last bow and looked out at the booth where Finn had been sitting.
He was gone.
Fuck.
She folded her fans with a groan as soon as she stepped into the cool darkness backstage. So much for grabbing Finn for a quick, hard ride in the kitchen storeroom.
“Hey, baby doll.”
The rough voice shivered up her spine like a caress, and she turned. Finn was leaning against the brick wall in the back hallway, watching her.
“There you are.” She dropped her fans on a chair by the back curtain and walked toward him. “Did you like the show?”
“Oh, yeah.” He pushed off the wall but didn’t step closer. He was waiting for her, the sexual hunger burning in his gaze leashed—for the moment.
She stopped just out of arm’s reach, her skin heating even further. She was naked except for her shoes and her panties, the only parts of her costume she hadn’t left on the stage floor—and she loved it. Loved the way he looked at her, drinking in every inch of bare skin.
“You liked it.” She let her own gaze travel down his body to the erection straining the front of his pants. “How much?”
Finn smiled and held out a hand. “Find out.”
Her fingertips touched his, and electric awareness ran through her like a shock. Then he caught her hand and dragged her to him. By the time their bodies collided, he already had his hands under her ass, lifting her until his mouth found hers.
It was heaven, the kind of contact she’d imagined on the stage as the feathers had tickled over her skin—but better. He parted his lips, his tongue searching for hers. She met it eagerly, licking in a slow mimicry of her hips rocking against his.
Her back hit smooth wood, and Finn groaned. “Where does this door go?”
“Door?”
He nipped his way along her jaw, wrecking any hope of concentration as he paused to suck the spot just below her ear. “The door, baby. Is it a closet? Should we just fuck up against it?”
“Prop—” The word broke with her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Prop closet.”
He braced her weight with one arm and groped for the doorknob, so impatient he had them through the door and her back up against the inside of it before she could stop the world from spinning.
It was dark in the closet, the thin line of illumination beneath the door
too faint to give shapes more than the vaguest of outlines. But Finn was pressed all along her body, his hands on her ass, his mouth on her throat. “Tell me what you were thinking out there.”
Thinking wasn’t part of the process when she danced. It was the one time she could shut off her brain and just be, without worrying about anything but how it felt to move her body beneath the lights. “I wasn’t. I did what felt good.”
He hoisted her higher, pinning her to the door with her thighs spread wide. “You were touching your tits behind that screen. Playing with your nipples. Do it again.”
Her hands trembled as she slid them from his shoulders and cupped her breasts. “You could see me?”
Instead of answering, he licked her fingers.
The caress burned through her, wet and rough. She arched off the door, trying to get closer, and the scratch of the wood sparked a realization. This was passion—pure and unrestrained, the kind she’d longed for in those early years with Finn. The kind he wouldn’t allow himself.
They had it now.
His tongue snuck between her parted fingers, found her nipple. He circled and teased, and when she spread her fingers wider, he sucked the tip into his mouth.
She held her breath, waiting. Then the edge of his teeth grazed her nipple, and she cried out. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging, pulling, with no idea whether she was trying to drag him away or clutch him closer.
It didn’t matter. He was immovable. He took his time, working her to the edge of insanity before switching to the other breast, and she was writhing in his arms before he lifted his head. “Are you with me?”
A tiny shaft of light fell across his face, and she traced its path with her fingertips, from high on his left cheek to the right corner of his mouth. “I love you.”
Finn stilled, his body tense against hers. Silence spun out, heavy until he broke it with a rough noise. “Say it again.”
He’d heard it before. She vaguely remembered whispering the words over and over, high as a kite and spinning away on a kaleidoscope of colors. This was different, not only because she was stone sober, but because she finally understood why she’d never contacted him, even after she was safe with the O’Kanes.
She’d been afraid.
Once upon a time, she’d seen those same emotions echoed in his eyes. Nothing about her feelings had changed with her sobriety, but if she saw him again, she’d have to face the possibility that it had all been an illusion. That he’d never cared about her the way she’d cared about him. That he was still everything, and she was a girl he used to know.
None of that mattered now. He was watching her so intently she could see the truth of the words he hadn’t spoken, and she touched his lips. “I love you, Finn.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m gonna work every fucking day until I deserve you.”
“Shh.” She leaned her forehead to his and shook her head. “Just...show me.”
She didn’t know how he got his pants open and didn’t care when he tore her flimsy costume panties in his rush. All that mattered was his fingers curling under her thighs, hauling them wide as his shaft slicked between her pussy lips.
She rocked, rubbing her clit against him. A pulse of pleasure raced through her, so quick and intense she almost came right then.
“Not yet,” he rasped. “Not until I’m in you.”
Release beckoned, but Trix gritted her teeth with a groan. “Hurry.”
But he didn’t. He took forever. Gripping her legs, tilting her hips. Positioning his cock so that the broad head pressed to her entrance, so that all he’d have to do was loosen his hold and let her sink onto him.
His lips brushed hers. His words were barely a whisper. “This is everything.”
She hovered there, so close to being filled, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she reached down and pried his fingers from her thighs. She held herself up for one more heartbeat, braced on his tense arms, then lurched against him.
He drove into her, and stars exploded in her vision, tiny specks of dancing light that lingered as he slapped one hand to the door with a groan. “Jesus fuck, woman.”
“Yes,” she hissed, beyond caring about anything but the hard thrust of his cock as she locked her legs around his hips. “I need you.”
She almost whimpered when he pulled back, but the waiting was over. He drove into her, quick and deep and rough enough to curl her toes. “Take me.”
She flexed her hands on his shoulders and arched off the door. “Don’t hold back. I want all of you.”
His next advance crashed her into the polished wood. “You’re tough enough to take it.”
“Everything.” Every rough, raw part of him, head to toe. Body and soul.
“Hold on.” It was her only warning before he dropped his hands to her ass, fingertips digging into her flesh as he braced her for his quickened pace. Steady, hard, thrust after thrust punctuated by his low, rough noises. Satisfied as he came into her and snarling in frustration as he retreated, as if he couldn’t stand pulling back but couldn’t resist driving her higher.
One of her shoes fell to the floor with a thump. She kicked off the other as well, then braced her feet on the backs of his thighs. The faded denim he wore was warm, but the rest of him burned—where his skin touched hers, where his eyes lingered on her, and especially where he held her captive for his pounding thrusts.
His breath heated her jaw. Her cheek. Her ear. “Touch yourself. Get off on me. Take what you want from me.”
It was too much like the old days, when she’d had to beg him to touch her, and then every bit of his guilty attention had been focused on making her come, as if the pleasure could make up for the fact that he hadn’t meant to touch her at all.
She wasn’t that girl anymore.
“No.” She stretched her arms above her head, resting her wrists against the door. “Get off on me.”
He shuddered.
And then he buried his face against her throat, muffling his groan of surrender, and rode her until his entire body stiffened in release.
The pulsing of his cock made her clench around him. A little harder and she could have sent herself tripping after him—but she couldn’t bring herself to give up the moment of quiet abandon. So she held him close, pressed her lips to his ear, and relished the way his heart beat so hard she could feel it through the wall of his chest.
After a moment, he freed one hand from her body and groped at the wall next to them. Light sparked to life over their heads, near-blinding after the darkness, but Finn didn’t let her hide from it. He tilted her chin up, his gaze sweeping over her face. “Is that what you wanted?”
He was staring at her like she couldn’t be real, like she’d vanish into smoke at any moment—and like he wasn’t done with her, not even close. “Yes.”
“Good.” He was still seated deep, every flex of his hips shivering through her as he pulled away from the door and turned. His gaze swept past her, taking in the full size of the room and the contents of the cluttered shelves. One of his eyebrows edged up. “The prop room, huh? Any of this yours?”
“Some. Why, you want to see another dance?”
He lowered her carefully to the floor and spun her to face the room. “Show me.”
There was the sequined red corset she’d commissioned for her very first act, and the dozen diaphanous scarves she’d used for her second. Shoes, jewelry, even an antique rhinestone-studded headpiece from Las Vegas that she’d tried and judged too heavy.
But she knew what he’d really want to see, so she walked to the open wardrobe in the corner and pulled out the hanger with her long strings of faux pearls. “These are mine.”
He caught one strand and let them slide through his fingers. “And what do you do with these, baby?”
“I dance in them.” The strands clicked as she wiggled the hanger. “Nothing but heels and pearls. You’d be surprised how well that goes over.”
His hand closed, dragging the pearls closer and le
aving her with the choice to either release them or get drawn into the circle of sudden intensity. “Not anymore. These are for me.”
She held on. “Why?”
He frowned, and she could see him struggling for the words, frustration mounting in his eyes.
It made her chest ache. “Because you want it,” she whispered, releasing the hanger, and the pearls dropped to hang from his clenched hand. “That’s all you have to say.”
He curled his free hand around the back of her neck and stepped close, backing her against the wardrobe door. “I’m trying to learn to share you. Maybe it’ll be easier if some stuff’s just mine.”
She stilled his words with one finger over his lips. “Put them on me, Finn.”
He smiled and looped the first one over her head. It settled across her shoulders, trapping her hair against her skin, and swung down between her breasts to hang just shy of her belly button. The next one was longer, the cool edges of the fake pearls tickling low on her abdomen.
“Hold out your arms,” he murmured, fingering the next strand.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized what he meant, and she stretched out both arms in front of her, crossing them at the wrists.
He was so gentle, teasing the pearls over her skin and around her wrists without pulling them tight. Not at first, not until he’d rubbed the silky-smooth edges up and down her arms. This strand was the second longest, looping around and around until she was trapped in a cage that clicked with every movement.
Then he left her to watch as he wrapped the last strand around his hand a few times, those wide, blunt fingers caressing it suggestively while his gaze drifted down her body. “You haven’t come yet, have you, baby?”
Oh, God. “No.”
“Do you want to?”
“Christ, yes.”
“Do you need to?”
She swayed toward him. “I need you.”
“Good.” He lowered his head, letting his lips almost, almost brush hers. But when she reached to kiss him, he smiled and stayed just out of reach. “Lift your arms.”
Trix obeyed with a moan. “Tease.”