Black

by K. L. Grayson

  “Don’t know.” I shrug. “This place looks fancy.”

  “More than we’re used to.”

  JJ, Erin, and I grew up several hours south of Chicago. Our town has a four-way stop, a dingy motel, and a gas station. Our version of a club was a hole-in-the-wall bar with a pool table and two dart boards.

  JJ nudges me with his elbow. “It would appear we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  I glance up at him. “You know, we could always cut out early and go catch that movie you’ve been wanting to see.”

  “You’re right,” he says flatly. “We should totally bail.”

  “Really?” I ask, hopefully.

  “No,” he admonishes. I slap his chest, and he lets out a soft oomph. “I was joking. We can’t bail. This is Erin we’re talking about. And she’s only going to get married once, which means only one bachelorette party, so we should be here to celebrate with her.”

  “You’re right.” I pout. “It’s just…you know how I feel about these sorts of parties.”

  “You do realize it’s okay to socialize, right?”

  “I socialize.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  JJ rolls his eyes. “Let me rephrase. It’s okay to make new friends.”

  “I have plenty of friends.”

  “No, you don’t. You have acquaintances. The only friends you have are me and Erin, and Erin doesn’t really count because she’s getting married and it’s only a matter of months before she drops off the grid.” He pauses and whispers, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

  I roll my eyes. He knows me better than that. “Quantity doesn’t matter. It’s about quality.” I leave out the fact that I prefer to have acquaintances. The more people you let in, the more you have to lose. And I’ve lost enough already.

  “Well,” JJ says smugly. “I won’t argue with that. But still, you’re all work and no play.”

  “Work is good. It keeps my mind occupied.”

  He huffs, clearly at his limit for my excuses. “You know what else keeps your mind occupied? Fun. Let loose for once. Have some fun.”

  “And you want me to do that here?”

  He shrugs. “Why not?”

  I turn back toward the building. Maybe he’s right. I can’t recall the last time I had a night out. It’s been at least a year, if not longer. And no one here knows me as anything other than ‘Erin’s friend from back home’ except Erin’s family, and they love me.

  “We’ll see,” I say.

  JJ gives me a look.

  “What? I refuse to make any promises.”

  “Fine,” he says, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Just promise you’ll at least consider it.”

  “I’ll consider it if you promise not to let them drape penises around my neck or put them in my drink. Oh, and I don’t want to write on one, ride one—” JJ looks at me funny. “An inflatable one,” I clarify. “I don’t want to ride an inflatable one.”

  “Good Lord,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “What in the world do women do at these things?”

  “You don’t even want to know.”

  “Yes, but I’m about to find out.”

  I nod, and he continues.

  “Okay, I promise no penises around your neck, in your drink, between your legs, or in your mouth. And you’re officially the most boring person I know.”

  “All right, let’s do this,” I say, ignoring his jab. Rubbing my hands together, I take a step toward the door just as JJ wraps a hand around my wrist. “What?”

  “You are wearing underwear, right?”

  I shrug, and he lets go of my wrist. A slow smile spreads across my face. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “I want you to be safe,” he says firmly. “Knowing Jacob, this place will be swarming with his frat brothers.”

  “Oooh… I like where this is going. Maybe I’ll enjoy socializing after all,” I tease. “What were you just saying about me being the most boring person you know?”

  His face goes stone cold. “That’s not funny.”

  “Chill, brother bear. We’ve already established my lack of socialization skills; I highly doubt I’ll be shacking up with some stranger in the bathroom.” Although ending my two-year drought sure would be nice.

  Reaching around me, JJ opens the door. “Trust me, I wasn’t worried about you doing that at all,” he mumbles.

  My steps falter as I walk through the door. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  “We need more shots,” Erin yells as she throws her hands in the air and shakes her ass. We’ve only been here a few hours, but Erin is already half tanked—as she should be.

  “I’ll get them,” JJ says.

  But I quickly wave him off. “It’s my turn to buy a round.”

  “You sure?” he shouts.

  Music blares through the speakers, the bass thumping so loud I don’t even bother trying to yell over it again. Instead, I just nod.

  JJ grabs Erin’s hand and twirls her around. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he dips her low, and she busts out in a fit of giggles.

  I push my way through the writhing bodies, grateful that Erin is enjoying her special night—and that I decided to take JJ’s advice to let loose for once.

  Of course I can’t tell him he was right. The boy’s head is big enough as it is.

  Squeezing through the crowd at the bar, I shove my way to the front and collapse on an empty stool. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, and surprisingly, my cheeks hurt. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard as I have tonight.

  The bartender slides a beer to the person on my right and points to me. “What can I get ya?”

  “One shot of Crown, a shot of chilled SoCo, and three screaming orgasms.”

  The bartender nods and turns away.

  “Did you just order a screaming orgasm?”

  Turning to my left, I follow the sound of the deep, raspy—and all too familiar—voice. A tall man in a perfectly pressed navy suit leans against the bar, and I instantly recognize him as the stranger outside the strip club my first day back in Chicago.

  He looks so much better than my memory gave him credit for.

  Right hand tucked in his pocket, he exudes confidence. His tailored suit hugs his lean body in a way that has my non-existent panties incinerating in my drawer at home. He has a straight nose, full lips, and square jaw that looks as if it’s been chiseled from some sort of fine granite. There’s a dusting of dark stubble casting the faintest shadow, as if he left it there on purpose, too lazy to worry with it this morning. I’ve seen his type before. Dozens of times. Tall, dark, handsome, and dangerous. Those four traits could be devastating to a girl like me.

  Because to a girl like me, that’s exactly what he is.

  Dangerous.

  “I did. They’re mind-blowingly good. Have you ever had one?”

  The stranger’s eyes darken. “As a matter of fact, I have.” His voice drops low as he leans in. “Although I much prefer giving them.”

  Oh, shit.

  He’s good.

  Really good.

  He’s better than most by a long shot, but I realized that the last time I met him, which is why I quickly ran away.

  His eyes drop, a grin tugging at his lips.

  “I’m going to pretend you’re staring at my breasts and not my penis,” I say, managing to keep a straight face and not feeling so bad that JJ failed to keep his promise.

  His smile grows as he lifts his eyes to mine. “There are so many things wrong with that statement. But I can’t help it. It’s a great looking penis. Very…colorful.”

  I bust up laughing, shaking my head. “Quick, compliment my breasts.”

  The handsome stranger scoots closer. My heart stutters to a stop as I wait for him to respond. He opens his mouth at the same time the bartender slides my drinks in front of me, and then as if the world has it out for me, Erin slams into my back.

  “There you are.” Draping an arm around my s
houlders, she plants a kiss against the side of my face. “Oooooh…alcohol.” She grabs two of the shots, and I take the others. “Come on. We’ve got a table,” she tells me. Peeking over my shoulder, she grins at my stranger. “Nice of you to finally show up.”

  His eyes soften. “Some of us have to work.” Erin sticks out her tongue, and he laughs.

  Wait. What?

  “You know him?” I ask, dragging my eyes from Tall Dark and Handsome to Erin.

  “Of course,” she says, nudging me into the crowd. “That’s Rex. He owns the place. I don’t know him that well, but he and his brother grew up with Jacob.”

  I manage to crane my neck just enough to get one last glimpse of Rex.

  Rex.

  Goddamn, even his name is sexy.

  He’s still watching me, his dark eyes smiling as though he just won a prize. Winking, he gives me a parting smile before I’m sucked into a sea of people.

  “Shae met a guy,” Erin sings, setting the shots on the table. A chorus of voices rings loud, but it’s JJ’s I hear, and there’s the tiniest hint of a slur to his words—a reminder that I need to cut myself off to make sure we both make it home in one piece.

  “No penises in your mouth or between your legs,” he reminds, putting an arm around my shoulders.

  Erin’s friend Chelsie wrinkles her nose. “Well, that’s no fun.”

  “Don’t blame me,” JJ says. “She made me promise to protect her.” He kisses my cheek, and his lips linger a little too long, allowing him the chance to say, “I tried.”

  I shove his chest. “You failed.” Pulling my flashing penis necklace off, I drape it over Erin’s head. The bright red penis blends in with the purple and blue ones she’s already wearing.

  “A toast.” Erin raises her shot glass, and we all follow suit. “To great friends and fairytale love.” Her eyes go all dopey as she looks at Jacob two tables over.

  “To penises in your mouth and between your legs,” Chelsie adds, nudging JJ.

  He nudges her back. “To drunk bridesmaids who wear really short skirts.”

  I tap my glass to Erin’s. “To handsome strangers.”

  Emma, Erin’s soon-to-be sister-in-law tosses her head back, downing her shot. Wiping an arm across her mouth, she laughs. “And to screaming orgasms!”

  “Here, here,” we all say before downing our drinks.

  “Now let’s dance.” Erin slides from her seat and tilts precariously to the left. Grabbing her arm, I steady her.

  “Maybe we should stay sitting,” I suggest as Emma, Chelsie, and JJ head to the dance floor.

  “Pffft.” She slaps my hand away and turns to follow. “There will be no sitting,” she declares before turning back to me and whispering, “But cut me off. I plan on having the best sex of my life tonight, and I want to remember it.”

  Shaking my head, I push her forward. “I did not need to know that.”

  “Jacob has a huge cock.”

  “I really didn’t need to know that.”

  She winks, links her fingers with mine, and spins toward the dance floor. “Come dance with me, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  I shake my head. “No.” I laugh when she waggles her eyebrows. “You go dance. I have to find the little girls’ room.”

  “Fine,” she says. “But then you’ll come dance and I can tell you all about his giant—”

  I slap a hand across her mouth. “How about you point me to the bathroom, and then I’ll come back and dance. But no talk about Jacob’s appendages.”

  She pushes my hand away. “You’re no fun,” she huffs, pointing toward the back corner of the bar. “Bathrooms are down that hallway on the right.” She shakes her head. “No, the left. Hell, I don’t remember. They’re down there.”

  “Be right back.” I head toward the back, not at all hoping to catch a glimpse of Rex.

  “Rex.”

  “Yeah?” I mumble, my eyes still locked on the exotic, screaming-orgasm-loving, penis-wielding stranger I just encountered.

  Only she isn’t a stranger. We’ve met. How could I forget? She knocked me on my fucking ass—figuratively—outside a strip club.

  I’ve always been drawn to a certain type of woman. Tall, but not taller than me. Blonde. Nice big tits. I’m greedy by nature, so less than an overflowing handful is a waste of my time. And this woman is none of those things. She’s easily a foot shorter than me, and if I had to guess, a 32B. Her dark hair is a curtain of silk that entices a man to wrap his hand around it. Her eyes catch the light in a way that evokes dominance but softness as well. I’ve never really had a soft side, but she makes me wish I did. Because a woman like her isn’t looking for some quick fuck in the bathroom. A woman like her needs far more than that.

  “Would you look at me?”

  Pulling my gaze from the stranger, I look at Liza. “What’s up?”

  “There are a few things I need to talk to you about. Mind if we go to your office?”

  I glance back toward the woman as she sits down next to a man. He drapes an arm around her shoulder and says something to her before kissing her cheek, and any hope I had of taking her home and fucking her senseless flies right out the window. It also explains why she turned down my dinner offer the first time we met. I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed.

  I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, a lot of stuff I regret, but even I have a line drawn in the sand.

  Murder? Out of the question.

  Drugs? Won’t touch them.

  Cheating on a woman? Not my style.

  And last but not least, I never fuck a woman who’s already involved.

  There’s a lot of temptation with owning a club like Vault. Women of all shapes and sizes are at my fingertips night and day. But I refuse to touch a woman who’s taken.

  And this one is clearly taken.

  With a sigh, I turn toward Liza. “Let’s go.”

  She follows me to my office and collapses into a chair across from my desk. “It’s been a long-ass day,” she says, toeing off her heels.

  “Yes, I’m sure wearing designer clothes and smiling in front of a camera is exhausting.”

  “You’re such a fucking prick.”

  Normally I’d take offense, but this is Liza. We’ve been friends for longer than I can remember. She’ll call me on my shit any day, and she talks and drinks like a sailor.

  She’s one of the guys. Only much more attractive.

  Opening the bottom drawer of my desk, I pull out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. I pour each of us a drink and hand a glass to Liza, which she takes without question.

  She swirls the amber liquid several times, staring at the glass like it holds all the answers before finally taking a sip.

  Leaning a hip against the side of my desk, I study her for a few seconds. “You okay?”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  Lifting a brow, I silently challenge her.

  “I’m good.” This time when she brings the glass to her lips, she downs it and hands it back to me. “I’m just restless, that’s all.”

  I pour her another two fingers and hand the glass back. “Restless?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “Don’t you ever get restless? Don’t you get tired of doing the same damn thing day in and day out?”

  “Not really, no.” I might get tired of the people in my life, but that’s an entirely different conversation. My life itself is great.

  “Bullshit.”

  “You’ve got a great life, Liz. Women would kill to have your job and your looks. You travel the world, stay in the nicest hotels, eat at the finest restaurants, and see things most people will never see. Not to mention that you’ve been on the cover of nearly every fashion magazine. So tell me, what’s really the problem?”

  She takes another sip. “The problem is I’m doing it alone.”

  “What happened with Javier?”

  “Xavier,” she corrects. “And you know as well as I do that he wasn’t going to l
ast.”

  “Sounds to me like you need another distraction.”

  She stands up, placing the empty glass on the table in front of her. “What I need is you.”

  Ah, fuck.

  Now it’s my turn to down the rest of my drink. I know I’m going to need it. I place the glass on my desk and run a hand down my face. I should’ve known where this was going.

  “Don’t.” I move behind my desk, putting some distance between us. “Don’t do this. You said you knew the score. I thought we were past this.”

  With a look of sheer determination, Liza steps around the desk. “I said what you needed to hear.”

  And that’s where I fucked up.

  Despite what happened between us, Liza and I will always be just friends. I made the mistake of sleeping with her, and she made the mistake of thinking our tryst was something more than fun. Maybe I shouldn’t have fucked her, but how is a man supposed to resist pussy served on a platter with no strings attached? Or at least that’s what she agreed to—until she turned the tables on me.

  And I nearly broke her heart.

  After a two-month stretch of tearing up the sheets, she asked for more, knowing I wasn’t willing to give it. It took a year for us to rebuild our friendship, something I thought was going to be impossible until she met Xavier, and even with that, it’s been rocky.

  “Don’t do this, Liz.”

  “I can make you happy.” Stepping in close, she presses her hands to my chest, pushing them up as she slides my jacket off. “Let me remind you how good we were together. Because we were good together.”

  I shake my head, at a complete loss for words.

  “Come on,” she taunts. “You know you want to.”

  “Liza, I—”

  “I can be fast,” she croons, running a red-tipped finger down my arm.

  “Liza—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t want to hear it. What I want…” Her voice softens as she unbuttons the top button of my shirt. “…is for you to fuck me.”

  If only it were that easy.

  Before Liza, I had my fair share of women. Meaningless sex was my middle name. But something changed after Liza, and for the last several months, the allure of a one-night stand has lost its luster… Or it had until I met a certain girl outside of a strip club.