“Yeah, but you’ve got your heart set on this one.” Anya pulled down a chair and sat next to him. “Really, she won’t mind. She does stuff like this all the time. She bought a clinic for Mallory.”
“Mallory is her sister,” Clint said, dragging her chair closer to him, so their knees touched. “I’m just her Dom.”
“Her Dom?” Anya raised an eyebrow.
“Her employee,” he clarified. “I’m not going to ask for an advance on my salary. There’s plenty of real estate I can afford if this place gets sold.”
“So why did you bring me here?”
“I wanted to show it off to you. Get your opinion.”
“I don’t know a lot about bars, but I’d hang out here.”
“I couldn’t ask for a better endorsement.”
“What type of entertainment are you going to have? I think you could set up a band over in the corner there.” Anya pointed.
“Maybe,” Clint said. “I was thinking of something more upscale. It will be a tequila tasting bar. Catering to businesspeople rather than the party crowd.”
“Risky,” she said.
“It could be a neighborhood bar too. Maybe I’ll serve some tapas and become a local hangout.”
“I like that idea better. What’s the neighborhood like?” she asked. “I had my eyes shut.”
“You were peeking,” he said.
“I was not. Well, maybe a little.”
“It’s a nice enough area. I might even get an apartment around here to make things easier.”
“You’d leave Couture?” Anya fiddled with the hem of her skirt. She was beginning to get used to the idea of having him just a few floors away.
Reaching out, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’ll never leave Couture. It has too many good memories.”
“I’ll bet.” Anya snatched her hand away, but without rancor.
“Besides, the apartment could be used to house my parents when they come and visit.”
“Yeah, I could see how housing them at Couture would be a little awkward,” she said.
“They’re not into fashion. The craziest they get is when they’re doing their fortune-telling shtick. She dresses up in a turban and robes, while he plays a bodyguard. It’s kind of a Middle Eastern fantasy with some Romanian elements.”
“I can almost picture it. Did you get involved in that?”
Rubbing a hand over his face, Clint said, “I’m sure some pictures exist. My mother will take great pleasure in showing them to you.”
“I can’t wait to meet them. You better take me to the circus if they ever come back to the States,” she said.
“I’ll even buy you peanuts and cotton candy.” Clint put a hand over his heart in a solemn vow.
“Skip that. I want to screw on the trapeze.”
Anya laughed at his expression.
“That could be arranged,” he said. “Tonight, as a matter of fact.”
He reached for his cellphone and Anya tackled him to get it away from him. “I was just kidding.”
“I wasn’t.” He thumbed a number into his phone.
Shrieking when it started to ring, Anya doubled her efforts to grab the phone. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He chuckled against her mouth and closed the phone. Sweet and warm, his kisses were addicting.
“So have you ever thought about bartending?” he asked when they paused for breath.
“I always get cork in the wine when I try to open a bottle,” she confessed.
Grabbing her arm, he tugged her up. “Let’s see what you look like behind the bar.”
“How are the tips?” she asked, lifting the hinged shelf on the bar top so she could walk through. Clint shut it behind him.
“Not as good as stripping.”
“I’d rather bartend.” Anya leaned into him as he put his arms around her. It was nice to be held like this. The bar was wide and she could almost picture it full of people getting buzzed off tequila. She placed her hands on the surface, frowning a little at the dirt. It needed a good cleaning.
“I like that you wore a skirt,” he said in her ear as his hand slid up her leg.
Anya smiled and waited.
Groaning, Clint buried his face in her neck. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“Well, you said surprise. I figured we were going to have sex.” Anya’s laugh cut off when he pulled it up to her waist. “Clint, I’m all exposed over here.” The bar hid her from the waist down, but still she could feel a breeze on her ass.
“Yes,” he crooned, kneeing her legs apart. “You are. Let’s work on a soft limit, shall we?”
“Don’t you dare spank me.” She angled a glare over her shoulder at him.
“So tempting,” he said, clutching her backside in a hard grip. “But no. This is about sex in public. Bend over the bar.”
Anya did.
“I want you to look out the window. Look at all those people passing by.” Clint caressed the curves of her ass and down to her thighs, where he spread her legs wider.
Her breathing was heavy. Anya could feel herself getting wet, just from the sound of his voice. “They’re not going to come in, are they?” She had expected to feel scared, but instead it was a lot like playing Truth or Dare. I dare you to fuck in an abandoned building.
“Who knows?” Clint explored her wetness with a light, seductive finger. “The door’s unlocked.”
“Lock it.” Anya tried to keep her voice from sounding shrill.
“No,” he said, leaning down to bite her plump cheek.
She hissed, and he kissed it all better.
“Don’t give orders,” he said, playing a little rougher around her folds.
Anya bit her lip, concentrating on the experience. It was almost worth it to challenge him, for the sweet punishment he was dishing out with his fingers. “I want you,” she told him.
He made a sound of approval deep in his throat. Clint’s fingers were more demanding, stroking against her clit until she sighed his name. Tingles of awareness tickled down her spine. Part of her wanted to come and get it over with before they got caught. But another part of her needed him inside her.
“Look outside,” he commanded.
The city street was crowded. People were walking on the sidewalk. One woman stopped to fix her shoe. A man leaned against the window and lit a cigarette. Could they see this far into the place from the outside? Or was she covered by dirty windows and the long wooden bar she was being pleasured against?
Resting her head on her arms on the bar, she tilted her hips up to him, giving him more access.
“That’s right. You like being stroked like this.”
“Mmmm,” she agreed. Little lightning arcs of pleasure were shooting up her legs. He knew just where to touch her to make her crazy.
“Come for me,” he commanded, increasing his wriggling fingers on her sensitive bud. Anya ground her chest into the wood, the nipple clamps she loved to wear tugging and pressing enough to make her legs shake as the orgasm crested. “That’s right.” He held her still when her body convulsed and she cried out.
“More,” Anya begged, looking over her shoulder. She heard his pants drop and he was inside her immediately. Her hands gripped the bar as he pushed her down flat and took her roughly from behind.
“Like this?” he asked.
“Y-yes.” She nodded, gasping as his thick cock filled her, hitting all the right spots.
“Yes what?” Clint growled, holding her hips as he fucked her hard and fast.
Anya couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. The people outside were forgotten in this sensual heat of desire. “Yes, please.”
“ ‘Yes, sir,’ ” he said, correcting her.
Anya turned her head to look at him. “Yes, sir,” she breathed out, wetting her lips. The look in his eyes was worth the small admission. Triumph, lust, pride. She couldn’t decipher it all, she just knew that she pleased him. Knew they connected on some level higher than they e
ver had.
“Please, sir,” she said in that same whispery voice. “Please fuck me harder until you come.”
Clint’s eyes closed. “Subs don’t give commands—but you’re new at this,” he told her. “It pleases me to accept your offer.”
Anya’s body was humming. A noise on the sidewalk caught her attention. It was a group of men walking past. They were laughing. One man stopped and looked in the window.
“Clint,” she shrieked. But it was too late, she was coming. Biting back her scream of pleasure, she tightened around his cock. He muted his shout of satisfaction, flooding her with his pleasure.
The doorknob turned. Clint pulled her upright and tugged her skirt down. Not bothering with his pants, he stepped in closer to the bar next to her.
The men came in.
“Can I help you?” Clint asked.
Anya was astounded he could sound so normal. She was still shaking with the aftereffects of two orgasms. He was standing behind the bar with his pants around his ankles and the men didn’t suspect a thing.
“You open for business?” the first man through the door said.
“Not yet. Maybe early next year,” Clint said.
Oh, please don’t come any closer.
“Are you the new owner?” the man said.
“Prospective buyer.”
The rest of the men looked around the place and nodded to themselves. Anya surreptitiously tugged her skirt down more, smoothing it into place. Did she look like she had just been bent over the bar and fucked silly? The men didn’t seem to be paying her any attention.
“This would make a nice sports bar.”
They seemed to be lost in envisioning the perfect watering hole.
“My thoughts exactly.” Clint smiled.
Anya bit back a snort at the bald-faced lie.
“Well, good luck. This will be a good hangout when it’s done.”
“Thanks, I hope so.” Clint gave a little wave as the men left.
“I’m going to kick your ass,” Anya said.
“Sure you don’t want to suck my dick?” Clint grabbed the back of her head and brought her in for a rough kiss. His thrust two fingers back up into her pussy.
Anya’s knees went weak. He could make her so wanton. She would do anything he asked just to feel this sweet pleasure. But she was still a lousy sub.
“I’m not kneeling on this floor,” she said against his mouth.
Chapter Seventeen
A week later, Clint was counting his money as he got off work at Tricky Ricky’s. It was a pretty good bankroll for a Thursday night. When he left the building, he did a double take. Clint was used to having women waiting for him after he got off work at the strip club. Men, not so much. But he recognized the guy leaning against his car as the Italian douche bag that Rita was banging. Anya’s ex.
“You’re very talented,” Cesare said.
“Sorry, man. I’m straight. Although, Billy might give you the time of day. He likes fancy boys.”
Cesare stammered, “I-I think we have a misunderstanding.”
“Get off my car. I’m tired. I want to go home.” And fuck your ex-girlfriend.
“You got turned down for a bank loan last year,” Cesare said.
“What business is it of yours?” Clint got into his face.
Unruffled, Cesare brushed an imaginary speck of lint off his jacket. “I can give you the thirty-five thousand dollars that you need for a down payment. With your meager savings, that should be enough to open your bar so you can stop dancing for horny women.”
Like your mistress, Clint wanted to say.
“So you’re offering me a loan?” he asked.
“I’m buying you off. Anya for your bar. It’s that simple. I want her back and she won’t leave you.”
“I don’t have a lot of money, but I never had to buy a woman before. Don’t they have women in Italy?”
“Not like Anya.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Clint said. “No deal.”
“Fifty,” Cesare said.
Clint shook his head. “That’s a lot of money. You always buy yourself whatever you want, no matter what the cost?”
“Of course.”
“Then this is going to be a big disappointment.”
“Not just for me, but for Anya too,” Cesare said.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Clint opened the door to his car and sank into the driver’s seat.
“I will make sure she never models again. Forget the play. I’ll ruin her career.”
“Why would you do that?” Clint leaned an elbow out the window.
“Because you made me,” Cesare said, stepping back from the car. “Take the fifty K. Let her down easy and open your bar. I’ll take her back to Milan and she will be a European star. Drive away and she’ll be lucky to be modeling for hand cream before the year is out. And when her career is dried up and she’s had enough of your charms, I’m going to call her and offer her the world. She’ll be the one dropping your penniless ass and coming with me. So you might as well make some money out of it.”
Rage flared through Clint. No one threatened Anya. It was all he could do not to get out of the car and throw this Eurotrash into the garbage. But that would play right into his hands. “I’ll think about it,” Clint said through gritted teeth. It would buy him some time to warn Anya and come up with a plan.
“Don’t think too long.” Cesare tossed his business card onto the passenger seat.
Clint watched him get into a rented Lexus and drive away. He put the car into gear and had to calm down before he called Anya.
“Hey, handsome, how did you do tonight?”
“It was an all right night for the middle of the week. I got offered fifty thousand dollars, though.”
“Who do you have to kill?”
“I have to dump you.”
There was a long silence on the line.
“Don’t worry,” he said to fill it. “I told Cesare to shove it up his ass. But then he said if I didn’t, he would ruin your modeling career.”
“I’m going to beat the shit out of him,” Anya said, seething.
“Isn’t that my line?” Clint had to smile.
“How dare he threaten me and try to bribe you?”
“I think he was serious about your career.”
“So I don’t model in Italy again. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” he said. “Are you sure you want to risk it for me?”
“Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t dump you for some sleazeball who thinks he can buy me. The stupid shit had me and he let me go. Oh, I almost feel sorry for Rita for having to put up with him.”
“All right, let’s not get that crazy, they deserve each other. I’m on my way home, can I see you?”
“Not tonight, I’m exhausted. I need to get some Zs.”
“Probably not a bad idea,” Clint said. He had been burning the midnight oil lately as well. But damn, he wanted to sink into her wet heat and have her come apart around him. But anticipation would make it all the better.
“I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow by the pool?”
“It’s a date,” he said, his mood lightening.
—
Where are you? Anya texted.
My hotel, why?
I’m coming over. Give me the hotel name and room number.
Cesare had no idea what he’d just started. If he thought she was coming over there for a booty call, he was going to be very unhappy. When he texted back that he was staying at the Elite Marquis, Anya wasn’t surprised. If anyone thought it was odd that she was going out at two in the morning, no one mentioned it.
Seething, Anya drove faster than she should have, but hardly anyone was out on the road. The doorman opened the door for her and the bellman keyed her into the elevator for the penthouse. Apparently, Cesare had prepared them for her arrival. He was waiting at the door for her wearing a silk robe and carrying two flute glasses.
“Cara mia, it has been t
oo long.”
Anya shouldered him aside and walked into the suite. It was swanky, but she hadn’t expected anything less. “Where’s Rita?”
“She’s staying at Couture, enjoying the events of the evening. Or should I say, Club Inferno?”
“Why aren’t you with her?” Great, Anya would have to make sure they were on opposite sides of the dungeon, if it came to that. Although taking a flogger to Cesare’s ass had its merits—nothing sexual, just pure rage.
Cesare moved over to the bar. “I got the feeling that I wasn’t wanted. Limoncello?”
Anya took it. It was her favorite. “I’m pissed off at you.”
“I can tell.”
“Where do you get off trying to bribe my boyfriend to dump me?”
Cesare’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what he told you?”
“Don’t play games. He said you offered him fifty thousand dollars.”
“It’s not true,” Cesare said insistently, guiding her by the elbow so she sat on the couch with him. “It is he who approached me. He wants to get out of stripping and open a bar.”
“I know that.” Anya squelched the doubts down. It was ridiculous. Clint wouldn’t do that to her. In fact, he’d called her solely to tell her that Cesare was trying to buy him out, like she was a business he was trying to do a hostile takeover on.
“First, he tried to blackmail poor Rita.”
“What?” Anya said, and then laughed. “Sorry, Cesare, she went willingly to the sex toy photo shoot. I saw her in the dungeon.”
“Yes, I know about that video. He took another one of her.” Cesare went to his entertainment center and rifled through a few DVDs. “I hope I won’t disturb you with this.” He held one up.
“I don’t need to see Rita getting off, thanks.”
“She hired him for a private show at the strip club he works at.”
Anya took a sip of her limoncello to hide her expression. Clint hadn’t mentioned that.
Cesare put in the DVD and she saw a grainy picture of Clint in a baggy burgundy suit dancing to a swing song.
“That just looks like him dancing, how could he blackmail her about that?”
Cesare pressed fast-forward, and the next scene was Rita being taken from behind by a man wearing the same outfit. The watch on the man’s pants was swinging in time to his thrusts.
Longing: Club Inferno Page 17