by Marie James
I rotate my hips against him, happy to find him hard and ready. He wants me as much as I want him, and I smile with feminine pride. “You don’t have to lie to him,” I whisper reaching for the zipper of his jeans.
He places a trembling hand over mine, much like he did the night at his house. “Aviana,” he says in a pained voice.
His rejection hurts more now than it did then. I lean forward, leaving my hand on him. I place my cheek on his shoulder and sigh. “I want you to make love to me,” I plead. I feel him grow thicker under my hand.
“Not here,” he says softly.
“I want this.” I pull my head off his shoulder and look him in the eye. “I need this. I need to feel like something in my life is a choice.” He reaches up and wipes away a stray tear I didn’t know I released as it rolls down my face. He grips the back of my neck softly.
“Avi,” he says with sympathy in his voice. He tugs me to his mouth. I melt into his gentle kiss, overcome with emotion at his sincerity.
“Not here, not like this, baby.” His lips move against mine as he speaks. “I’ve got help coming; it won’t be much longer.”
I don’t ask what he has planned. I know if he tells me I’ll fixate on it and won’t be able to think of anything else while he’s away. My time here would be more torturous than it already is.
“Let me take care of you,” he says sliding the top of my tank lower, revealing the swell of my breast.
His thumb traces the swollen, tightness of my nipple. I arch my back into his hand, needing to feel him everywhere.
“Please,” I beg.
He shifts our weight, so I’m on my back on the bed, and he’s hovering over me. Sitting back on his knees I watch as he pulls the condom from his pocket. He tears it open with his teeth; the sight causes chills to run over my body. The anticipation of him changing his mind makes my body tremble.
My heart falls when I see him unroll it and toss it and the empty wrapper to the floor. “Have to make it look right.”
I don’t have a chance to argue when he settles his body over mine and licks his way over my shoulder. With sure hands, he pulls my tank top off and tosses it behind him. He must know I love the feel of his skin because he discards his shirt as well.
He settles back over me, but his height and my shortness keeps his erection from rubbing where I need to feel it most. I swivel my hips in hopes that he’ll oblige, but he doesn’t. My legs are splayed wide to accommodate his width as he licks and kneads my breast. The course feel of his hands on my flesh makes me groan loudly.
With quicker speed than the first time he visited, his mouth is lowering down my body, and he’s tugging my sweats free.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” he says as his mouth lowers to my wet flesh.
There’s no teasing, no preamble this time. The shock of his quick descent has my back arching off the bed. His mouth leaves me, and the only thing I can feel is the rush of his hot breath against my skin.
I look down and find him staring back up at me. “So, you’ve dreamed about this?”
I nod my head. “Many times,” I admit breathlessly. “Reality is so much better.”
He chuckles and attacks my clit vigorously. I grip his hair in both hands, my body taking over my brain. My body moves against his mouth roughly without thought.
I whimper as I feel his hand slide up my thigh. I’m well aware of what those fingers are capable of, and the prospect of them in me again is electric. Unlike last time, he teases me with the tips. I shift my hips again trying to get them to slide deeper, but he holds me still with a large hand across my stomach.
“Easy, baby,” he mildly chastises, “make it last.”
I mumble my frustrations until he slides deeper, his mouth working my clit and moving sensually over my flesh.
“Fuck!” I yell as my orgasm hits with little to no warning. I pulse against his mouth, and he laps at my oversensitive pussy.
“Mr. Cock,” Vito says from the open doorway.
BT moves so he’s covering my body from the sight of the door. My body is trembling both from the climax and the realization that we’ve been interloped upon and didn’t even realize it.
“Time to go,” Vito slurs. We haven’t been in here long, so he’s either drunk off his ass or high as a damn kite; my bets are on the latter. Darby mentioned he likes coke as much as he likes fucking.
Light fills the empty doorway as Vito wanders away from the door. Brazenly, BT leans in, kissing me with more passion than I’ve ever felt in my life. My lips are swollen by the time he pulls away.
“Thank you,” he says against my mouth.
“I should be thanking you,” I admit.
He shakes his head slightly. “Believe me, baby. The pleasure is all mine. Keep dreaming about me, Aviana. I’ll be back soon.”
He grabs his shirt from the floor, turns and gives me a wink, and closes it softly behind him.
Chapter 26
BT
Vito was so fucked up when he came to the door of Aviana’s room he didn’t even have a mind to ask me about getting caught eating her pussy. I know he’d be suspicious if he wasn’t high. Clearly he believes the girls are only here to be used and not pleasured. Why they want to stay, I have no idea. I was pissed when I had to leave. I was nowhere near done with tasting her. Fuck, she comes like a champ.
I don’t know where he went after he dropped me off, but he could easily kill someone if he got on the road. He’s never told me where he lives, but I’m almost certain he stays here in the hotel as well. When we leave, we always get the car out of the underground parking and not from the valet area.
I didn’t get much sleep last night, but the knock on the door close to seven doesn’t startle me. It’s the normal time we usually begin our night. What does surprise me is Vito standing in the door with a huge smile on his face. He seems to recover from a bender faster than most.
“What’s that smile about?” I ask and turn to grab my hoodie.
“You’ll see,” he says dismissively and turns toward the elevator.
It’s Wednesday night, and if it’s anything like the last couple of nights, the night will drag on. I know the weekends are busier than the days in the middle of the week. I hate the fact that I’m having to work for these bastards, but nights that seem like days kill me. It’s almost like basic training all over again, when a twenty-four hour period seems like it’s a week long. Having no contact with my family, friends, and Scout makes it even more miserable.
A short ride from the hotel later and Frankie pulls up in front of a strip club of all damn places.
“What the hell?” I say looking out the window at the flashing neon lights for the ‘fabric-free entertainment.’ The verbiage makes it seem like it might be a classy place, but the borderline vagrants I see going inside tells me it’s not. I’ve been to my fair share of places like this, and the first clue that it may be a shithole is the fact there is no valet; the classier places always provide that service.
This place is off the strip. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that Vito and Frankie avoid the strip like the plague, but I’m almost certain that all the locals do the same. The guys I’ve been forced to pretty much mug have been in the darker recesses of town as well.
“Your birthday is Friday!” Frankie says enthusiastically as he parks in the dark lot beside the establishment.
I almost correct him, but remember that according to my ID Mike Hawke’s birthday is in a few days.
“We have work to do Friday, so we figured we’d celebrate a few days early,” Vito interjects.
Just what I need, fucking strippers.
“We have too much to do, guys,” I say hoping we’d go to work instead of this.
“We get the day off,” Frankie says with a brotherly slap on my back. The contact makes me cringe, but I can relish the fact that these guys, at least, like me a little bit. Why else would they go out of their way for a birthday celebration? Then realization hits. They want to see
strippers, but they’re responsible for me. They should’ve just left me in the damn hotel room all night.
“Why waste our money here?” I ask. “We could easily go to the top floor of the hotel and handle business there.” It seems like a brilliant idea to me.
I hear Vito chuckle. “You addicted to Aviana’s pussy or something?”
I do my best to control my anger. He’s got no business even mentioning her. If I want to keep attention off myself, I have to play by their rules, no matter how much I despise them. I shrug. “Now that I got a piece of that ass I need more. Plus, I don’t have to work for it.” I smile, and he doesn’t seem to realize in the darkness that it doesn’t reach my eyes. “You guys have the perfect setup. She’ll eventually be used up. What happens when she’s not as fresh as she is now?”
I don’t know if pressing him for information is a good thing, but I need more intel, and they’ve not given me any detail about The Cat House that Aviana mentioned.
“Don’t worry about her, Mr. Cock,” Frankie says slinging his arm over my shoulder. “She’s still got a few good years left in her, I’m sure.”
I want nothing more than to throw his arms off of me and snap his neck, but that can’t happen so I just fall into step with him and make our way to the front entrance of the club.
The smell of sweat, whiskey, and stale cigarettes assaults my nose as we enter the club. Flashing strobe lights do their best to hide the flaws of the women on the stage. I’m equal opportunity, so I love many body types on a woman. I can appreciate skinny girls as much as I love big breasts and a thick ass, but what this place has is none of the above.
The lighting is horrible which only benefits the dancers as well as the men paying to see the performances. The woman on the stage met her stripper shelf life at least a decade ago. She’s either a heavy drug user or in her forties, and I’m not talking hot, MILF-action forty either, because there’s sex appeal in a hot older woman as well. This sad soul is wrinkled in all the wrong places, her skin is clearly dry either from too much time in the tanning bed or long days spent in the direct sunlight. Her hair is a mess and fried beyond repair. She’s just… nasty.
These women are nothing like the girls back at the hotel, so I’m flabbergasted as I watch Frankie shimmy his way up to the stage and throw down some money at her feet.
“What do you want to drink?” I hear Vito ask from beside me.
I look back to the stage. To get through this night? “Whiskey,” I answer. “Lots of fucking whiskey.”
I know getting drunk around these fuckers isn’t the smartest thing in the world, but fuck if I’ll survive without a high level of inebriation.
I sit in a dark booth that Vito indicates as he goes to the bar and retrieves our drinks, praying he brings the damn bottle. Shifting my weight, I feel myself stick to the seat. I nearly vomit as the taste of bile snakes up my throat.
It’s just from a spilled drink, I think over and over in my head. Chances are that I’m sitting in years of uncleaned jizz, but if I think too hard about it, I’ll get sick. I already felt like I needed to bathe in hand sanitizer just walking through the front door.
“Fuck I hate this place,” Vito says sitting beside me and placing a large tumble of golden liquid in front of me.
“Why are we here then?” It’s obvious. If he doesn’t want to be here, then we should leave. I’d much rather be beating up poor guys than sitting in this disgusting place, and that’s saying something.
He angles his head toward Frankie, who’s near the stage getting a lap dance from the stripper that was just on the stage. He clearly has mommy issues.
“Frankie’s wife left him this morning. For some fucked up reason he loves this nasty fucking place,” Vito says and brings his own drink to his lips.
“Wife?” I mean I know guys cheat, the sin is as old as the sex industry Vegas is so famous for, but he’s never indicated once that he had a wife to get home to.
“Yeah. A shame really; she was a real stunner too.” He shrugs. Was? My blood runs cold as Vito shrugs his shoulders. “She’s no longer a problem for him, though. I think he sort of loved her, so he’s taking it hard.”
Ice runs through my veins because I’m certain he just told me that the wife is now dead for leaving him.
“So what you’re saying,” I begin to press him for information, but the look in his eyes tells me I better not even ask. I reach down for my glass of whiskey. “This isn’t really my birthday party?”
He throws his head back and laughs. He’s too busy laughing at my words to see the tremble in my hands as I bring my glass to my face. What kind of group am I working with if they can kill their wife and visit a strip club like it’s any other regular day?
I tilt the amber liquid up and pour it down my throat. I make sure not to touch the glass to my lips. The last fucking thing I need is catching Hep C in this damn place. The back of my jeans are already covered in previous customers’ donations. The idea has me swallowing the entire contents of the glass.
“Hell yeah,” Vito says as I lower my empty tumbler. He reaches beside him, pulling a bottle up and refills my glass.
“These women are nasty,” I say as another less than desirable stripper takes the stage.
“Keep drinking,” Vito encourages. “Sometimes it helps.”
I watch as he drains his second glass. I tilt mine back in kind. There is not enough alcohol in this fucking city to help with this place. I glance over and see Frankie in the corner of the club, almost completely shrouded in darkness. I wish he was entirely out of sight because seeing him getting sucked off from the granny stripper is now burned into my mind forever. I groan and pour another drink, wishing brain bleach was a real thing.
***
“We need to go upstairs,” I slur as an equally drunk Vito helps me out of the elevator.
“You’re in no condition to go up there,” he responds. “You couldn’t find the wet spot with a map and flashing neon signs.”
“I need her.” I need to shut the fuck up, but the liquor coursing through my veins doesn’t allow me the ability to keep my mouth shut. “I need Aviana.” I reach down and grab my junk. Even drunk I know it needs to look like she’s only a quick fuck.
Vito chuckles as he unlocks my door and shifts me toward the bed. “You can see her on Tuesday,” he says tossing me unceremoniously to the bed. “Get some fucking sleep. We have a shit ton to do tomorrow.”
Tuesday. I get to see my angel on Tuesday. The weekend can’t go by fast enough.
“If her pussy is that good I may need to get a piece of that myself,” I hear him mutter before the door slams closed behind him.
“I’ll fucking kill you before that ever happens” I think before my eyes drift closed.
Chapter 27
BT
Add no rest when hungover to the long list of disadvantages of being an indentured servant to the SINdicate. Vito shows up at my door right on time with a smile plastered on his face. His chipper fucking mood may get him popped in the mouth before the night is over with.
He laughs when I grumble at him. I know he drank as much as I did last night. He must be immune to the aftermath of drinking a half a bottle of whiskey, but he looks no worse for the wear this morning.
“Do you have some fancy fucking hangover cure I don’t know about?” I ask as I grab my hoodie from the end of the bed.
“I was drinking before I could walk,” he says patting his stomach. “If you were Italian, you’d understand.”
I huff at him. Little does he know, my heritage is closer to his that he knows.
“What’s the game plan for tonight?” I ask as we board the elevator, hating to watch it descend rather than rise to the top.
“Same as usual. Tonight, though, you may be in for a surprise.”
“If that surprise is another nasty strip joint, I’ll pass.”
He laughs heartily. “Fuck, even I can’t do that shit twice in one week. No, tonight you may get the opportun
ity to see what happens when someone is no longer able to pay back what they owe.”
“I’m not a businessman, but why aren’t you guys going after people who actually have the ability to pay back what they borrow in full?”
Vito looks at me seriously. “Tempt me not a desperate man,” he says.
Shakespeare? Seriously? He’s quoting Romeo and Juliet?
“Desperate men do desperate things. Sometimes we get lucky like we did last week with the bank robber.”
I nod, not showing any disbelief. How this fucking organization has stayed afloat, hoping people rob banks or knock over liquor stores in an attempt to get the money they owed is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.
“Where’s Frankie,” I ask as Vito indicates for me to join him in the front of the car.
“Police station,” he says. I glance at him, but the look on his face says he won’t be providing any more information than those two words.
I hope his ass is charged with whatever happened to his poor wife when she got the courage to leave him.
I nod and look out the window as we make our way to yet another seedy ass neighborhood. If they have no problem killing a spouse, then they surely won’t have an issue with disposing of me if I become useless to them.
Vito never said they killed Frankie’s wife, and other than what I’ve done to the guys we encounter, there hasn’t been much outward extreme violence. Maybe it’s my need to see some good in each person I encounter, but I pray no harm has come to that woman.
We pull up outside of a motel the SINdicate clients seem to frequent. I crack my knuckles, preparing my hands for a possible fight. Not many of them take a stand against us, but there have been a few.
Once again the door isn’t locked, and we gain immediate access to the room Vito points at. I guess I should count my lucky stars that the SINdicate doesn’t have me in a room as nasty as this one. The Golden Dragon hotel isn’t exactly a five-star stay, but it looks like it compared to this place.
Sticky, threadbare carpet and warped, ancient furniture fills the small room. Our contact is passed out on the bed with a needle laying close by. Chances are he won’t have a penny on him, but that doesn’t mean we get to just walk out without rolling him.