by Cynthia Sax
Sexy.
I run my fingers along Smoke’s forearms, savoring the strength under the gray silk. He isn’t wearing a jacket today. That’s one less barrier between us.
“Yes, touch me, Jenella.” His lips graze my earlobe and I tremble.
“I shouldn’t.” I open my eyes. The room is empty except for us. The door is closed. Where did everyone go? “The class is over.”
“The lessons continue.” Smoke nuzzles against my neck as we dance. “You said you were busy tonight. I was surprised when Bruiser called, telling me you were here.”
I don’t know who Bruiser is. “You weren’t here.”
“I was doing something for a loved one.”
A loved one. He’s betraying her as Edward betrayed me. “Oh.” I pull away from him, hurt, jealous, confused.
Smoke draws me closer. “Not that type of loved one.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I fuck it and chuck it, remember?”
He doesn’t do relationships. The club owner isn’t cheating on anyone.
“You’re a pig.” I relax against him, my actions belying my harsh words. “Did fucking it and chucking it have consequences?” Does he have a child?
“Other than a temporarily limp dick? No. I’m careful.” Smoke places one of my hands on his thigh. His legs are as muscular as his arms. “I was mowing Nana Zaire’s front lawn.”
Wasn’t Tyrice’s Nana named Zaire also?
“You were mowing her front lawn.” I look over my shoulder and meet Smoke’s gaze. “That’s not some sick sex act, is it?”
“Hell, no.” He tilts his head back and laughs, his mirth shaking my curves. Edward is always so serious. The club owner’s unrestrained joy is exotic, different…in a good way.
And he clearly loves his Nana, his grandmother, taking care of her, of her yard.
That automatically makes a man fuck-worthy in my eyes.
I shift my body to the left and glide my hand over Smoke’s groin. His laughter stops, his eyes widening. I smile, rubbing him to the beat of the music, relishing the length and width of him, reveling in my power as a woman.
He turns me within the circle of his arms, giving me more access to him, and we dance. His hands explore my hips, ass, the dip of my spine. I cup his balls and stroke his shaft through his dress pants, in no rush to end this, to get him off.
Smoke doesn’t push me like a certain impatient, time-is-money-thinking lawyer did. He moves into my palms, pressing against me, riding the wave of sound.
The song ends. There’s a stretch of silence, a click, a whirl, another click and the music starts once more. How long have we been here and will we soon be interrupted?
Wanting to please him before this happens, I unbuckle his belt and carefully unzip his pants. I expect to see bare skin. He’s a man whore. He’d want ease of access. I’m surprised to spot crisp white cotton.
“Players wear boxer briefs?” I lift my eyebrows.
Red streaks across his cheekbones. “This player does.”
I push his pants and boxer shorts downward, releasing his long straight shaft. Black curls speckled with gray cover his base, a testament to his age and experience. “Teach me how to satisfy you, player.” I don’t have his sexual history.
“You’re doing damn fine so far.” His cock bobs as I wrap my fingers around him. “God, your hands are soft.”
“Are they too soft for you?” I pump him up and down, up and down, moving to the beat.
“Hold me tighter.” Smoke places his fingers over mine, adjusting my grip. “That’s it, baby.”
He directs my hands, showing me how he likes to be stroked. There’s no guessing, no worrying about whether or not I’m doing this correctly. He tutors me in this as he tutored me in dancing, phone sex, dealing with a cheating ex-boyfriend.
A dab of pre-cum balances on his tip. “Brush your thumb over me,” Smoke coaches, his voice husky. “Make my skin glisten.”
I do as he says and he shudders, his shoulders shaking.
“Are you close to coming?” I ask.
“I was close to coming a half an hour ago.” He increases the tempo, his jaw clenched, his black hair glistening with sweat. “My balls ache. They’re ready to explode.”
“So I shouldn’t do this?” I escape his grip, fold my fingers over his balls and gently squeeze.
“Fuck.” Smoke roars, thrusting forward. Hot cum spurts from his tip, splatters on my cotton-covered stomach. I stroke more drops from him as he jerks and twitches against me, the strain on his face slowly dissipating, the lines around his mouth flattening.
“You’re a naughty girl.” He looks at me with sleepy eyes and a goofy grin. “I ought to add one more item to your list and spank you.”
I dab the hem of my already cum-stained shirt over his cock head, cleaning him. “Do you think you can handle all this woman?” I shimmy.
Smoke’s gaze drops to my jiggling breasts. “I don’t know, baby, but I’d have fun trying.”
He could have fun trying. My smile fades. Because I’m now single. “Edward wanted the tablet back. He didn’t want anything more.” He didn’t want me.
“I know.”
I frown. “Did he tell you?”
Why do I feel betrayed that Smoke didn’t relay this confidence? He owes no loyalty to me. I shouldn’t have any expectations of him.
“He didn’t have to tell me.” Smoke pushes a strand of my hair away from my face. “You wouldn’t touch me if you were still with him. You aren’t an unfaithful skank.”
“I’m a bims.” I should have known about Edward’s cheating.
“You’re a bims with a great rack.” Smoke leans forward, openly ogling my cleavage.
My stomach growls. I wrap my arms around it, trying to stop the noise. This doesn’t work. The embarrassing rumble continues.
“What’s that noise?” Smoke grins. “Should I be scared?”
“You should be very scared.” My face burns. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I called Edward at lunch and then…” I lost my appetite.
“We could eat din—” Smoke stops talking. A barrage of emotions sweeps over his handsome face—intense yearning, fleeting regret, deep-seated resignation. “No, we couldn’t. That’s against the rules.” The gold sparks in his eyes extinguish. It’s as though storm clouds have rolled across a star-filled sky. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Smoke?”
“I told you how I operate.”
He got what he wanted—I gave him a hand job. Now he’s done with me. “You hit it and quit it.”
“Yeah.” Smoke avoids my gaze.
I shouldn’t be angry with him. He warned me, never hid who he was, didn’t pretend to desire more. His vigorous sexual pursuit eased some of the agony of Edward’s betrayal, making me feel better about myself.
“I understand.” I gather up what is left of my dignity, turn, and stride toward the dressing room. “Thank you for wanting me.”
“Wanting you was fuckin’ easy,” Smoke says to my back, his voice soft. “Forgetting you will be much more difficult.”
Chapter Eight
The big man who greeted me when I arrived is leaning against a wall as I exit the dressing room. “Miss.” He straightens. “The boss asked me to drive you home.”
“I can take the bus.” I stalk through the maze of rooms. Men in hard helmets and steel-toed boots cut into drywall. Fine white dust hangs in the air.
“I can’t allow you to take the bus, miss.” The big man follows me. “The boss gave me a job to do. I have to do it.”
“Why?” I stop. I’m utterly and completely lost. “Will he fire you if you don’t drive me home?”
“He doesn’t look kindly on slacking.”
Is that a yes, Smoke will fire him? I search the man’s blunt, broad face for any indication that’s true. He shows nothing except determination, his expression blank, his jaw jutted.
“Okay.” I won’t be responsible for someone losing his job.
I al
so have no idea where the exit is. “Where’s your car?”
“We’re taking the club limo.” The huge, elevator door of a man leads the way. “We use that for VIP guests.”
I gave Smoke a hand job. That must make me a VIP. “My name’s Jenella.”
“I know, miss.” This surprises me, though it shouldn’t. If he works the door, he’d make it a point to learn about everyone who enters the club. “My name’s Bruiser.”
Ahhh…he’s the infamous Bruiser. “You told your boss I was here.”
“He asked me to inform him if you arrived.” The man holds a door open for me. I step into the night. The air is warm. The space is brightly lit.
A long black limousine waits for us. The doors are labeled in gray with the club’s name, address, phone number.
This should be a treat. I haven’t been in a limo since prom night.
It feels like payment for sexual services.
Bruiser opens the door and I hesitate, not wanting to sit in the back alone, to be seen as a package to be delivered to its destination. “Can I sit up front with you?”
“Of course, miss.” Bruiser beams, revealing a missing front tooth. He closes that door and opens another. I slide onto the black leather seat, moving the flat black chauffeur hat out of the way. Bruiser fills the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going, miss?” He maneuvers the limo out of the lot.
I give him my address. An awkward silence stretches.
“How long have you worked for Smoke?” I ask.
“Eight years for Mr. Sheridan, four years for Papa Zanders.”
“Papa Zanders?” I don’t know who he is.
“The previous owner.” He turns the vehicle onto Adelaide Street and we stop, the traffic as horrendous as usual. “Though I unofficially worked for Mr. Sheridan then also. Papa Zanders wasn’t involved in the day-to-day operations. He had restaurants and other ventures.”
“Mr. Sheridan bought the club from him?” The land alone would have cost him well over a million dollars.
“He inherited the club when Papa Zanders died.” We creep along the busy street. “That’s all public record.” Bruiser’s gaze flicks toward me. “I’m not telling you anything you couldn’t find on Google.”
“I understand.” Bruiser doesn’t want to betray any confidences. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll see Mr. Sheridan again.”
Lines appear between Bruiser’s thick eyebrows. “That’s too bad, miss. We thought…”
“What did you think?”
“The boss saw you last week and he was eager to see you again today. He never does that.”
“He pumps it and dumps it.” My tone is wry. “I know. He told me.”
Bruiser glances sharply at me. “He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm…”
I don’t know what that sound means. Does Smoke not normally warn the women he pursues? And why do I care? We’re done.
Bruiser drives. I look out the window at the restaurants, bars, little shops lining the street. An elderly woman walks her dog. Couples cling to each other, their arms entangled, the besotted looks on their faces reinforcing how alone I am.
For four years, I was like those women, happy, secure in my relationship with Edward. Now, I don’t have anyone.
No, my situation is worse than that. I have a dinner with my ex and his new girlfriend tomorrow night and no date to bring to it.
I glance at Bruiser. “Are you working tomorrow night?” I don’t wait for him to answer, wishing to ask this before I chicken out. “Because I need a date for dinner. I’ll treat. The food’s good. The restaurant’s specialty is Greek seafood. The fish is fantastic.”
“You don’t know me.” Bruiser points out the obvious. “Doesn’t a pretty girl like you have a male friend she can ask?”
“Edward, my ex, will be at the dinner. He knows many of my male friends and he’d press them for details about our relationship. He wouldn’t do that to you.” Edward would be too polite to grill a stranger. “You wouldn’t have to talk. I’ll carry your part of the conversation.”
“Can I think about it? Give you my answer tonight?”
He didn’t turn me down flat. I consider that a success. “Of course. I’ll give you my number.” I take my phone out of my tote.
“Don’t worry about that.” He waves the device away from him. “I’ll get it from Mr. Sheridan.”
Smoke will know how desperate I am. He’ll hear how I begged a near stranger to go to dinner with me. I lift my chin. I don’t care. Much. “Okay.”
Bruiser stops the limo in front of my apartment building.
“You’ll call me?” I need this reassurance.
“I promise you’ll get a call tonight, miss.”
I hope his answer will be yes. That would solve my dinner date problem. I exit the limo, look around for Woofer.
The kid is missing. I try not to worry. He’s likely perusing parking lots for sports cars.
I enter the building.
***
Hours later, I sit on the couch, beside my best friend. I’m very, very drunk and slightly high. Azure bought me a bottle of cheap, locally-sourced wine to drown my sorrows in. While I obligingly drink, she puffs on a toke. A cloud of dope smoke swirls around my head.
“I likes him, you know.” I wave my glass in the air. Wine sloshes onto the floor.
“I know you do.” Azure spreads her legs, her long skirt covering her ankles. “But Steady Eddy doesn’t deserve you, ‘Nella.”
I wasn’t talking about Edward. The damn club owner is on my befuddled mind.
“I like Zanetti.” My free-loving friend taps ashes into a nearby potted plant. “He doesn’t deserve me either.”
“What did you say?” I widen my eyes, trying to focus on her face.
“Zanetti. I like him.”
“No. No. No.” I shake my head. This causes the room to spin. “You can’t like Zanetti spaghetti, Asszure. He’s the company’s CIEIO.” That doesn’t sound right. “ZIO.”
“CIO,” she contributes.
“Eggslactly.” I set down my glass. “And you’re anti-corporate. You’re like fishies and.” Shit. I can’t remember the saying. “And other fishies. You’re two different species of people.”
“Yeah.” Azure sucks on her toke.
I think about the situation some more. “They says he’s a kinkster. He shares all of his women with his two bestest buddies.”
“Those rumors are true.” She grins. “I like that about him.”
Azure prefers to sleep with multiple men, is a regular participant in orgies. She claims to enjoy the variety.
I can’t even handle one man.
“We should call Zanetti spaghetti.” I smack the coffee table with my palm. I like how this sounds so I slap it once, twice more. “Right now.”
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Azure leans back. “I’m too high right now.”
“Fuck tomorrow.” I find my tote and extract my phone. “I’m calling him now.”
I press a number, place the phone between us. It rings three times. Azure increases the volume until it hurts my ears.
“Edward Langston.”
“Whys you answering Zanetti spaghetti’s phone?” I frown. “Whatcha did with our ZIO?”
“It’s Steady Eddy,” Azure yells, her sense of loudness distorted. “He’s a liar and a cheater and a phone number stealer.” Her eyes widen. “Hey, that rhymes. I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it.” She laughs.
“Oh noes.” I sink to the floor. “You can’t take Zanetti spaghetti’s phone, Eddy. He’s a big boss man.” My eyes water. “They lubs their phones.”
“Jenella, are you drunk…on a Tuesday night?” Did Edward always sound this uptight? “That’s not like you.”
“I’m not me.” I lie down. “You left me. You don’t want to have my babies. Why don’t you want to have my babies, Edward?”
“He’s a guy.” Azure laughs so hard she has to
hold her belly. “He can’t have babies. Goodbye Steady Eddy.” She punches the phone with her fingertips, disconnecting the call. “Forever.” She joins me on the floor, grinning like a fool.
We lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Azure calls random people, ending the calls immediately because they’re not Mr. Zanetti. She claims my phone is broken.
I finish the bottle of wine, black out for a stretch, then head to bed, my alcohol-soaked phone clenched in my right hand.
My phone must work. It’s ringing.
“Helllooo,” I sing.
“I’ll do it.” Smoke’s deep voice fills the room, the volume still jacked.
“Yessss, do me.” I turn onto my back. “It’s my turn. I did you earlier, remember? I gave you a hand job and I was great.”
“You were great and now you’re very fuckin’ drunk.” He sounds amused.
“Not very fuckin’ drunk. A little fuckin’ drunk.” I place my thumb and index finger an inch apart. “It’s Tuesday.”
“It is. I’ll be your date tomorrow as long as you meet my conditions.”
I’d like to meet more than his conditions. I cup my mons with my free hand. My panties are wet.
“You give me another hand job.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, the motion making the room tilt.
“Nope?”
“Steady Eddy says I should never take the first offer. He’s a lawyer, you know.”
“I know.”
“No hand jobs. I’ll give you one titty fuck and that’s it.”
There’s a long pause. Did I ask for too much?
“I’ll only agree to the titty fuck if you let me come on your chest,” Smoke finally says.
“Done.” I grin, proud of myself for being such a tough negotiator. “The dinner is at dinnertime.”
“That’s a good time to have it. There’s one more condition.” Smoke would be a worthy opponent for Edward. With my ex, there’s always an additional condition. “During this date, you’re mine, Jenella, mine to dress, mine to touch, mine to leave with. You won’t flirt with or try to seduce Eddy.”
“Ummm…” This is what Edward calls a blanket clause, giving Smoke control over everything.