See Jayne Play

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See Jayne Play Page 9

by Jami Denise


  All bets were off. In a few short days, I was walking away from Las Vegas, my family, and a life I never asked for. I was moving on, and my business arrangement with Flynn would be over. It was possible that I’d never see him again, and I’d truly never have the opportunity to fulfill the need I had for him. I was a woman on a mission, one I felt so deep in my bones that I ached with it.

  He followed me to the edge of the pool, and I stood in awe as I looked over the enchanting waterfall and grotto to the right of me. It was truly remarkable. Dipping my toe in the cold water, I let my head loll back with satisfaction.

  His hands were on my shoulders, sliding down my arms and resting on my hips. “Your body haunts me,” he whispered in my ear.

  Goosebumps pricked at my skin. His voice was low, ragged. The brush of his fingertips was more erotic than anything I’d ever felt. He knew how to touch a woman, gentle enough to make you melt, but rough enough to send pools of arousal to flood through your body.

  I was drowning in him.

  “I think of it every second I’m awake. When I sleep, it’s you I see behind my eyelids. I dream of you. Crave you. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you.”

  We were on the same page there, and it was extremely flattering to know that I affected him the same way he did me. The shameless jealousy I’d had seeing him with other women was immense. I now saw that his violent outbursts and pushy demands came from a place of desperation, not control. He wanted me, deeply.

  I wiggled away from him and dove into the pool, letting the water take me under and then pushing myself to the surface. It was exhilarating, freeing. When I was a little girl, we’d lived in an apartment complex with a pool. I escaped there, losing myself to the freedom of my limbs in the dense liquid. I couldn’t hear the yelling when I was underneath. I could pretend I was a mermaid or a tiny fish, frantic to flee the ugly depths of a dangerous situation.

  It sort of felt the same as I pushed myself across the pool. The water was cool on my skin, chilling the blistering heat of my body. I could think in there, erase the reality and make believe I was still that little mermaid, happy and frolicking with nothing in the world to worry about.

  A loud splash from behind me told me he was coming for me. I swung my arms faster, wind milling them toward the other edge. My legs kicked, and my lungs stung. Faster, faster, I thrust myself forward with all the momentum my heart could stand.

  He was faster though, and much stronger. His arms came around my waist, lifting me up against his chest and holding me against him.

  “You can’t get away from me, Jayne.”

  Lifting me over his head, he dunked me over his shoulders and back into the pool. I struggled to the surface, letting out a gasp, and slapped him on the back.

  “What was that for?”

  He smiled, lowering himself so he could wade over to where I’d surfaced. “Just because.”

  He was playful, charming. The way his switch went from left to right so quickly reminded me too much of my father. That mask was dangerous, and as well as I’d nailed down the disguise, I had nothing on him.

  “That was mean,” I scolded, moving backward on my tiptoes. “I could’ve drowned.”

  He chuckled, his arms swiping through the water as he stalked across the pool toward me. “I would’ve saved you.”

  I let out a guffaw and rolled my eyes. “Now you know CPR?”

  He nodded, still smiling. Suddenly, he was in front of me, pulling me against him again. I gasped, realizing he was completely naked.

  “Flynn,” I said. I was breathless, the feel of him against me, hard and bare, was bliss.

  I reached down as his lips touched mine and grabbed his cock, stroking him softly. He was pure steel, heavy and smooth in my hand. I’d waited so long to touch him, to have him touch me the same way. The wind blew through us as he pulled my legs to cradle his waist, and I shuddered.

  “Don’t stop,” he begged.

  It was difficult to get a good grasp on him while we were close, but I didn’t want him to let me go. His hands held me firmly, his fingers digging into the cheeks of my ass as he invaded my mouth. Slow, and then quick, he ravaged me while I fearlessly drove him toward his orgasm.

  It was phenomenal being with him. I’d jacked off countless men in my life, sloppy teenage hand-jobs in the back of cars, awkward clients while I was a dancer, and the frequent dates I’d had over the years. The way he felt, reacted, looked… it was insane.

  His deep chuckle caused me to lift my head and look at him, and the smile on his face was about the best thing I’d ever seen in my life.

  “I think I fucking ruined the pool.”

  I laughed. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

  His head dipped in toward mine, and he laid several small, sweet kisses on my lips. “It was more than fun.”

  I felt that closed off part of my heart opening the door again, and every cell in my body was on high alert. This was too much. Too fast, too surreal. That spinning twirl into the deep black hole of low was pulling me down, sucking me under. I could fall in love with him. It was impossible not to when he smiled.

  I couldn’t go there. Ever.

  “We should get inside. It’s starting to get cold,” I said hurriedly.

  I dropped my eyes, breaking the spell, and released my legs from around his waist. I didn’t want to look at him. I couldn’t look into those eyes and see the confusion and not answer the questions they wanted to ask. I screwed up a totally perfect moment, but I had to keep my distance. It was the only way I was getting out of the situation unscathed.

  I floated to the edge of the pool, ignoring the pull to turn around and go back to him. Sex was easy, but not when there were so many feelings involved. I needed a few moments to myself to get back in control. Then I could enjoy it. Then it could be nothing.

  There were no towels, I realized too late. I stood there, drenched and shivering as he climbed out of the pool behind me.

  “There are towels in the changing room. I’ll grab one for you.”

  His voice was cold, detached. I’d insulted him, I was sure. I knew the feeling. I’d felt it almost every time I’d been with him. He’d been no different than me in the beginning. Distant, unreadable, and completely uninterested. There was a reason for that, I realized, and I wasn’t sure why.

  There were so many unanswered questions between us, and I almost regretted not having the time to get to know him. I’d mourn not knowing the beautiful man within for years, if not forever.

  Walking past me, he disappeared into a room off to the left side of the pool, and quickly returned with two white fluffy towels. He slung one over my shoulders, and then wrapped one around his waist before turning and walking into the house without another glance.

  My feet were cemented in place. I’d fucked up. Royally. He was pissed, and all the progress we’d made was gone. I wanted to cry, and almost did. Only pure spite kept me from shedding tears. No one made me cry. I didn’t care enough to cry over anyone, and that included my father. As badly as I wanted him safe, I’d given up on emotions a long time ago.

  The fact remained that I was being paid to be there. For him. If he wanted to tell me to shove it up my ass and leave, I was screwed, and so was everyone involved. There was too much at stake, and my ridiculous hormonal attraction to the man was of little significance. I had to get my head out of my ass and fast. Janie was permeating my psyche, and I had to put myself in Jayne’s shoes.

  She knew what to do.

  So, with new determination, I lifted my head, held the towel against me, and followed him in the house, ready to show him that I was a professional and willing to be, or do, whatever he wanted.

  I found him in the bedroom sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, and his towel still strewn over his waist. His hair was pebbled with unshed droplets of water, thick and wavy and begging for me to run my hands through it. He looked like a tragic sculpture, a victor of a war he never wanted to fight. The troub
le in his features angered me. I was an idiot.

  “Flynn,” I said softly, dropping to my knees in front of him.

  He looked up at me, eyes weary and mouth drawn. He looked… hurt. I didn’t understand it, but I felt it. My gut wrenched, all the emotions swimming in my heart coming to the surface to breathe all at once.

  I reached for his knee, but he stood abruptly, his eyes turning angry.

  “Do you think it’s okay to be a cock-tease? You think this is funny?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, to justify my actions, but he shut me down.

  “You’re going to suck my cock. Stay there. Don’t move.”

  Before I could even compute what he was saying, the towel was gone and his thick erection was in front of my face.

  Wasting no time, I wrapped my fingers around his girth and opened my mouth, taking him in, one inch at a time.

  It was never my favorite thing to do, but I’d had enough practice to know what to do to make it enjoyable without lasting too long. Men were easy to read when they were aroused. They all had similar tells when they were about to come, so I opened my eyes wide, aware that it was a major turn on to maintain eye-contact.

  His head was thrown back, a groan of pleasure escaping his throat as I swallowed around him. I felt his hands in my hair, and the gentle pull edged me on. The deeper he went, the more I enjoyed it. The sweet, salty way he tasted, a tinge of chlorine from the pool doing nothing to deter me from the pleasure as I hollowed my cheeks, and then sucked again.

  In and out, again and again I let my tongue work in tandem with my mouth, giving him enough suction to balance out the pressure inside him. I let my teeth graze him as he slid out, and the grip on my hair increased.

  Over and over I took him in my mouth, and nothing had ever been so good. He was truly a work of art, every part of him.

  A sudden shift, and I was on my feet, his lips on mine. He turned us, slamming me against the mattress behind us and he was on top of me, all muscle and strength. We were completely bare, and I could feel him everywhere.

  Disappointment pricked at me. I wanted to make it good for him. I wanted to feel him come apart in my mouth, swallow down the evidence of want, but feeling him between my legs, his strong arms holding me down and his thick thighs against my soft ones, I knew things were going to get even better.

  “I won’t love you unless you want me, Jayne. Not my money, not because I forced you to be here. I need you to want me.”

  Full on panic set in. If I admitted the truth, that I did want him, I was screwed. Literally, and figuratively. He’d take everything away from me, and I wasn’t sure I could take it. Falling, falling down a dark hole was not the way I wanted to end this between us. I wanted to let loose, give him the best night, or nights, of his life before I left. I wanted a piece of me to mark him, not the other way around.

  Even though I’d never forget him or the way he made me feel, I was sure I could push it away and move on. If I broke the seal to my secrets, they’d spill out like poison, and my heart couldn’t take it.

  “I have nothing to offer you, Flynn. I’m a prostitute. I’m here because you paid me. There’s no getting around that.”

  He flew off me, grabbed the towel, and wrapped it around his waist quickly. “You can sleep in here. I’ll return you to your pimp in the morning, but I’ll expect a refund for services unused.”

  My heart seized. He wouldn’t!

  “Flynn, wait,” I begged. “I don’t know what you want from me. You want me to tell you I’m in love with you? Fine, I’ll tell you whatever you want me to tell you! That’s what I do. Whatever you want, whatever the next man wants, and so on and so on. This is what I have, what I am. I can’t continue to play these damned head games with you. You either take what I can offer, or that’s it. But, please… I need that money. You can’t do this. It’s a matter of life and death.”

  I’d said too much, and the second it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. He spun around, eyes dark and brows furrowed.

  “The only one playing head games here is you, Jayne. Keep telling yourself you don’t want me. I can feel it. We could have something special if you’d pull your stubborn head out of your ass. I’d give you the world if you let me.”

  My words caught in my throat and I covered my mouth with both hands to hold in the sobs. He was hurt, once again. It couldn’t be helped, though. I was nothing. I had nothing. I needed him much more than I wanted him, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was out of my hands. All I could give him was pain, and I wasn’t willing to do that. There was good in him, underneath the superficial beauty and the wealth. He was amazing, and I knew he was telling the truth. There was something special between us, an invisible magic. I felt it constantly in his presence, but that didn’t mean anything would come to fruition.

  It couldn’t.

  “Sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

  ELEVEN

  I awoke in the middle of the night, sweaty and snuggled next to a very warm body. At first, I freaked out, unaware of my surroundings.

  I’d cried myself to sleep. Horrible, silent tears. Anguish rushed through me like a thunderbolt. Watching Flynn walk out of the room broke parts of me I hadn’t even remembered having. My heart, for instance.

  Having his arms around me, his soft warm breath on my neck, and knowing he came back to me after I’d been such an intolerable bitch meant everything to me.

  There were decisions to be made. I could go with it, let him know that I wanted him, and enjoy what would definitely be the best thing that would ever happen to me, or I could leave, betray my promise to my father, and disappear into the sunset.

  “When I was sixteen, I saw you at a New Year’s Eve party at Caesar’s Palace with your father. You had a feather in your hair, a red one.”

  Blinking against the darkness, I took an intake of breath and slowly turned over to face him, surprised that he was awake and shocked by his admission.

  He had a small smile on his face, his perfect teeth showing. He looked like a boy, young and interested.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Brushing my hair off my face, he continued. “You never left his side. He was so proud of you, showing you off to everyone. I was mesmerized by you.”

  I didn’t even know what to say. I had a faint recollection of the party, remembering the red feather one of my dad’s girlfriends had given to me. She was a showgirl named Brenda. At thirteen, I wanted to be her when I grew up.

  “I didn’t see you… I don’t remember you from back then.”

  He smiled. “I followed you. I thought you were so pretty, so cute with that tacky feather in your hair. You were smiling ear to ear.”

  My brows dipped, confused and conflicted by his memories. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this. He knew me? Remembered me? This was insane.

  “When I was eighteen, a couple of my buddies and I went to a strip club during spring break. We went to the Playhouse on Fremont Street.” He paused, letting out a little laugh. “There was this blonde, a knockout. She was wearing a little red bikini with white polka dots. Braids in her hair, glitter on her lips. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was strung out on her all night.”

  I felt my lungs fill as I held my breath. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was me… he’d been at the Playhouse, and he’d seen me dance. I wasn’t sure if I was thrilled, mortified, or a little of both. My head spun, trying desperately to remember something. It was useless. Back in those days, I was a zombie, lost in what I’d resorted to, ashamed of not being strong enough to get out of it.

  “She was underage… obviously. I couldn’t believe they had her on stage, and yet, I couldn’t find any reason to complain. She was gorgeous, and she had these eyes I remembered, and I wondered all night where she hid her feather.”

  “What the fuck is happening?” I whispered. I was in disbelief.

  “She only danced twice. I waited for her to come out, but she never did. I left that nig
ht, and I felt like I’d left a piece of me in that dingy club. I never forgot her.”

  “Jesus,” I wheezed. “Flynn…”

  His knuckle brushed against my cheek, his eyes softening. “I looked for her when I came back that summer. She was gone, and no one knew where she was. I thought I’d never see her again, but then, two years later, I saw her father at a poker game. I asked him about his daughter, the one with the red feather, and he told me where you were.”

  “Where was I?”

  “At The Palace. You had dark hair again, and I was glad. It was long, dark, and curly. You’d grown up, a lot. I watched you dance every night that summer. You were headlining, and I had quite a collection of call cards with your picture on them when I returned to school that fall.”

  I was still puzzled. “Why didn’t you say anything to me? I never danced for you…”

  Thoughts buzzed around in my head like wild bees. The what ifs were mind boggling. Just thinking about being with Flynn under different circumstances made my eyes water. My life could have been so different had he approached me back then.

  “I never asked. I didn’t want to pay you to dance for me. I wanted my private dances with you very private, but I never had the nerve.”

  I sat up, the spins in my head making me nauseous. My face was a mask of shock and fear. He’d seen me, noticed me, and followed me. He’d seen me dance, seen me with my father. He knew entirely too much about me, and was borderline obsessed.

  “Why now? Why this?”

  I couldn’t figure it out. He was too shy to ask for a lap dance, but he was secure enough to pay me thousands of dollars to watch him jerk off? I didn’t get him at all.

  “I overheard Vince at a party talking to a potential client about a special girl, Jayne King. When he confirmed that it was you, Scarlet Jayne from The Palace, I couldn’t stand the thought of you being with other men. I wanted to know why. I wanted to keep you for myself. I couldn’t figure out why someone as beautiful as you, so special, was selling herself.”

 

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