by Nikki Sloane
“Looks like we’re getting upgraded from ‘nice.’” She strolled back to the table and leaned against it, casually folding her arms over her chest. It was a power move, one hundred percent. “You’re a big guy. I don’t know a lot about football, but you’ve got the build for it. What position did you play?”
Lust buzzed in my brain and fogged my thoughts, putting me on auto-response. “Prop.”
Shit. As soon as it was out, I wanted it back.
Confusion darted through her eyes, then vanished. Even if what she’d said was true, it was clear she knew that wasn’t a football position.
I needed to change my plan. The goal had been to get as much info as possible, but now I needed to focus on surviving this room and the smart sales assistant.
I motioned toward the silent blonde. “Is she not allowed to talk?”
“She’ll do whatever you want, sir, after we’ve reached an agreement.” The redhead straightened, and her demeanor changed to all-business. “Eight thousand.”
I flinched. Fuck, that was a lot of money. It came from me with an edge of horror. “No.”
Even if I had that kind of disposable cash, I wasn’t going to use it. When I had sex, the girl needed to be just as into me as I was her. Fun for everyone involved.
I’d swear the sales assistant could see right through me. Her head tilted a fraction of a degree, and her tone was flat. “Four.”
“No.” I put my hands up and took a step back. I’d seen the paperwork, talked to the owner, been inside the club, even started the negotiations to purchase. I had more than enough to start writing my exposé. . . right? “I made a mistake. I should go.”
Alarm visibly coasted through her as she stiffened. “Just wait a minute. Talk to me. What’s the issue?” She ran her hands down the sides of her skirt as if readjusting. She was probably searching for a new angle. “I know it’s not the girl. You like her. You’ve barely looked anywhere else.”
Was that true? “No, she’s beautiful, but I—”
“It’s okay. There’s no need to be nervous.” A sweet, surprised smile curled on the redhead’s lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were shy.”
I pulled my chin back. “I’m not.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “But if you were, that’s absolutely fine. If you’re worried about her not wanting to—”
“I’m not shy.” No one had ever accused me of that.
“All right.” The redhead blinked her evaluating stare. “Then, touch her.”
Years of competition, and I’d never turned down a challenge. This woman had played it perfectly and gotten me to walk right into her trap.
I drew in a deep breath. “Where?”
She shrugged. “Wherever you’d like.”
If I turned the offer down, it would look incredibly suspicious. What guy in his right mind would pass it up? Confusion coiled in my brain as my desire to be smart and walk away fought against the instinct to never back down.
One touch. I could do this and prove I wasn’t bluffing, and then decline to negotiate.
I pulled my shoulders back and puffed up my chest as I strode to the side of the table. The redhead’s blue eyes sharpened as she watched me lift a hand and gently set it on the blonde’s ankle.
It wasn’t warm in the room, but I began to sweat anyway. The second I made contact, the girl gulped a breath, and the sexy, startled sound shot straight to my dick. The redhead’s relentless stare egged me on. She’d told me I could touch the girl anywhere, and she silently challenged me to do more.
I smoothed my palm along the length of the girl’s calf, sliding up to her knee. Her skin was silk, and I faltered when her leg shifted ever so slightly, moving to encourage. The logic in me knew it was an act, like how a stripper plays up she’s interested in whatever guy she’s dancing for. I knew the only thing this girl was into was the money in my bank account, and yet . . . I wanted to believe she liked the way my hand felt on her skin.
The desire for her was strong enough, it convinced me she wanted more.
I inched my hand along, dragging it up her perfectly toned thigh, while the redhead looked pleased. My breathing picked up, matching the girl’s on the table. Her breasts rose and fell with each deep breath she took.
Tension pulled taut between us until it was razor sharp. My palm rested on the top of her warm thigh, my fingertips only an inch from her pussy. The sales assistant arched an eyebrow, one that said, “Go on, then.”
I already knew what the girl tasted like. I wanted to know how she’d feel. Would she shift away from my touch? Would she spread wider and welcome it? I’d always been curious to a fault, and this time was no different. I trailed my fingers down, skimming them between her thighs.
She let out a breathy sigh and her back arched, shoving her breasts toward the ceiling. Her reaction was like I’d shocked her, but with a jolt of pleasure. It’s an act, I repeated endlessly, but no matter how many times I said it, I couldn’t convince myself of the truth.
She was hot and damp. One tiny circle of my fingertips on her clit, and she reached her hands back further, gripping the ribbon restraining her. It was as if she needed something to hold onto.
I did it again.
“Fifteen hundred,” the redhead whispered.
I froze, and my attention flew back to the sales assistant. Since the moment I’d come into this room, she’d been controlled and confident, but a strange expression was fixed on her face now. Unease?
“You should be aware,” she continued, “I’ve never made an offer that low. And I doubt she’s ever accepted one, either. She’s worth a hell of a lot more.” There it was again, the admiration in her tone. She frowned for a split second before her expression firmed up. “What I’m saying is, this is a limited time deal. I recommend you take it before I change my mind.”
Was this a sales tactic, or was she genuine? Her posture was straight and uncomfortable, and I got the sense she was off-balance and overcompensating.
Fifteen hundred, she’d said.
I had more than that set aside for plane tickets to visit my family in Johannesburg. It was a trip I’d been putting off for almost two years. Once Morgan had moved in with me, I’d thought I’d take her and introduce her to my parents, but—no. In hindsight, it was good we hadn’t gone. I saw now how Morgan embodied the vain, rude American culture my South African family despised.
At the rate I was going, it could easily be another two years before I got serious about the trip, and in the meantime, that money was just sitting there . . .
Was I insane? Why the fuck was I even considering this?
I yanked my hand off the girl. I wasn’t a real customer, so I had no right to touch her. I should turn and walk away, and yet, I couldn’t get my feet to move.
“You look like you could use a drink,” the redhead piped up.
“Yeah.” I stared at the floor, confused. I considered buying an evening with this beautiful girl, and guilt swam in my head. It was wrong. Illegal. Which only made me more curious to try it.
“What’s your drink?” the sales assistant asked. “Scotch? Whiskey?”
“Whiskey.”
She touched a hand to her ear, activating the low-profile earpiece I hadn’t noticed until now. “Can I get a glass of whiskey to room two?” Her gaze focused on me. “Straight, or on the rocks?”
“Rocks,” I croaked out, and the redhead relayed it into her earpiece.
It was harder for me to leave now that I’d ordered a drink, but my mouth was a desert. Each second I stayed in the room, the longer my subconscious had to plead its case it’d be okay to go through with this. The sales assistant had said the girl on the table would do whatever I wanted, including talking, after we’d reached a deal. So, I could look at this as an expensive paid interview.
I didn’t have to do anything more with her than what I’d already done.
Although a part of me wanted that very much.
> My thoughts were so distracting, it didn’t register my drink had arrived until it was cold in my hand. I swallowed a huge gulp while the redhead’s expectant gaze seared into me. She wanted an answer to her offer.
“Fifteen hundred,” I announced between sips. “All right.”
-3-
Grant
A startled, pleased smile warmed the redhead’s face. She glanced down and threaded her fingers through a lock of the blonde girl’s hair, playing with the glossy strands fanned out on the table.
“What do you think?” she said softly. “Do you accept?”
The girl’s lush lips parted, and the single word was uttered on a breath. “Yes.”
A jolt of electricity washed through me. Was it from finally hearing her voice? Or the power she’d just given to me by agreeing to my offer? In the end, it didn’t really matter. As soon as the deal was done, my anxiety and guilt vanished. She could have said no, but she hadn’t.
The saleswoman stalked toward the exit on her heels. “Enjoy your evening.”
When the door clicked closed behind her, the only sound in the room was the ice tinkling in my glass and the rush of blood pounding in my head. I stared at the girl, lingering over every curve. She was so gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.
But what happened now? I took another long sip of my drink. Maybe the subtle burn of the alcohol would clear my thoughts and give me a better plan. Or any plan.
She squirmed for a half-second, and her face contorted. It put me on alert. “What’s wrong?”
She snagged her bottom lip in her teeth and looked embarrassed. “Nothing. It’s, uh . . . nothing.”
All her answer did was make my stomach turn. Maybe she didn’t want me after all—
I took two steps toward the door before she blurted it in a rush, “So, this is really stupid, and not at all sexy, but I have a mosquito bite on my ankle.”
I blinked, unsure what to do with the information.
“It itches like crazy,” she admitted. To help explain her situation, she moved her arms, pulling against the black straps restraining her. Instantly, the basic voice in my head responded. Help her scratch her itch, and she can help you with yours.
“Which ankle?” I asked, moving back to the side of the table. “You want me to untie you?”
“Only if you want to, sir.” She wiggled her toes on her right foot, and the glossy red nail polish glinted in the light.
Technically, I didn’t need one, but it gave me an excuse to touch her, so I set my glass down beside her knee and peered at her long legs. A faint, pink bump lifted from her skin just above her anklebone.
“I’m told,” I said, “they always go for the ankles. Some people are more appealing to mosquitos than others. I’m a lucky one who doesn’t get bit much.”
Which was great because rugby was played and practiced outdoors. The mosquitos weren’t as bad here as they had been in Johannesburg, but I wasn’t immune and had gotten my fair share.
I brushed my fingertips over her raised skin, giving her a startle, but she shifted against my touch as if needing more. When I ran the edge of my fingernails over the bite, her lips parted on a soft sigh.
She’d said it wasn’t sexy, but she’d been wrong. Giving her relief was nearly the same as pleasure. Would her reaction be similar if I did?
“I guess I’m a delicious one,” she said.
Fuck me. I already knew it was true, but I wished I could confirm it. Press my lips to hers and taste her kiss. Was I allowed to? There wasn’t anything on the board about it.
Wait. I needed to focus. It’d be impossible for her to answer questions if I was kissing her, and worse—I was certain once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I drew my hand away.
“Thank you.” Her voice had an edge of strain, like I’d stopped without giving her full satisfaction.
“Do you like this?” I said abruptly. “Working here?”
“It’s whatever you want. If you don’t want me to like it, sir, I won’t.”
I tensed. “No, sorry. I meant it as a question. I’m curious.”
Even with the blindfold covering half her face, I could tell she was unsure how to answer. And why shouldn’t she be? What was the upside to saying the truth if the answer was no?
I couldn’t tell if it was genuine from her flat tone. “Yes, sir.”
“Forget I asked.” I snatched up my drink and finished it.
In the awkward silence, she moved. She brought her ankles together and ran the side of her foot against the bug bite.
“It’s going to keep itching unless you leave it alone,” I said lightly. I wrapped my palm around her ankle and held her still.
“Oh,” she gasped as I pressed the cold side of my glass against the bug bite. It wasn’t going to be enough to numb the nerves, though, so I put the glass down, dug out an ice cube with my fingers, and set the flat edge against her irritated skin.
She gave a quiet hiss, but there was a faint moan tacked onto the end of it. If someone were to come in right now, it’d look like I was teasing her with ice. I flashed on the idea of dragging the ice cube slowly along her inseam, and lust swamped me. I rolled the melting ice in tiny circles over the spot.
My voice was tight. “Does it still itch?”
“No, sir.”
Cold water pooled against her skin before dripping down, and like the slider of a Ouija board, the ice cube moved beneath my touch, guided by an invisible force. It left a glistening path as it trailed up her leg.
Her chest rose and fell with her hurried breaths as I skimmed along, up the side of her thigh, following the same route I’d taken earlier.
“I haven’t done sensory play in a while.” She sounded excited, even as she squirmed under the cold edge knifing across her bare skin. Like she both did and didn’t enjoy it.
I’d never done it before. Was I supposed to say that? Even though I was paying for it, I didn’t want her to think I was clueless. I took a detour around her thigh, skirting the edge of her pussy, and dragged the ice cube up over her belly.
Her nipples were already tight and pointed, and I slid the ice over one, then the other, drawing glistening lines across her skin. Her swallow was audible. Her chest heaved. Everything about her response said she was into it. If she liked the cold, would she like heat too? I went in for the kill. I leaned down and swiped the tip of my tongue over one distended nipple.
Her moan was just louder than her hard swallow had been, but her hips shifted, creaking against the leather cushion. She’d brought her knees together, clamping down on her pleasure.
I’d given her just a hint, but now I latched my mouth on her and sucked. Hard.
“Oh.” Her soft word was heavy with satisfaction.
My blood heated, boiling through my body. “You like that?”
“Mmm. I do.”
Down the ice cube went, faster this time as it slalomed over her curves, racing toward the center of her legs. Her quick breath cut off as I closed in, and it looked like every muscle in her tensed in anticipation of the cold sliding over the hottest part of her.
She flinched and jolted, knocking the ice from my grasp, but I was fine with abandoning the melting cube, because I replaced it with my tongue.
She bowed up, arching her tits into the air, crying out in surprise. Or perhaps enjoyment. I braced my hands on the inside of her thighs and spread her wider, settling in. Whatever plans I’d tried to make, they were pointless. Going down on this beautiful stranger was all I wanted to do.
Morgan’s betrayal made me feel inadequate, but I wasn’t, and I was desperate to reaffirm it. My curious nature meant I was good at learning new things, and that included in the bedroom.
I flicked my tongue over her, rolling and massaging, and smiled to myself as she quivered. The question was rhetorical, but I asked it anyway. “You like that?”
“Fuck, I do.” She moved against my lips, an active participant.
&
nbsp; I spun a cartwheel with the tip of my tongue against her clit, and her thighs shook. Above me, she drew in deep gasps of air, strangling back louder moans. It would have been sexy no matter what, but here in this club and with our illicit deal, it made the act incendiary.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Her shuddering was more pronounced as I picked up my intensity—
A sound rang out from behind us, jarring me. Had someone just opened the door? I turned to glance over my shoulder.
The redhead was there, one hand on the doorknob and a somber expression fixed on her face. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but can you join me in the hall? This will only take a minute.”
I wasn’t just embarrassed to be caught, my bones turned to lead. I straightened and ran my palm over my face as I cast a final look at the girl panting before me. I’d taken her right to the edge and now was going to leave her there.
Unless what the redhead said was true and I’d be back in a moment. Was there any chance the issue wasn’t with me? Doubtful. As I shuffled toward the doorway, the redhead’s expression was plain, but her eyes were sharp and angry.
There were two men waiting for me in the hall, Julius and the enormous bouncer who’d buzzed me in. Their faces were full of contempt.
Your cover is totally blown.
Despite the frosty atmosphere, I was able to sound easygoing. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, Mr. Kruger,” Julius said. “We’ve got a problem.”
A cold sweat broke out down my spine. He’d used my real name. “I can explain,” I started.
But he put his hand on my shoulder. The gesture might have seemed strangely friendly, but it wasn’t. First, his hand weighed a hundred pounds. Second, it was right beside my neck, and I was very aware of the proximity. His hand clamped on me was a power move, letting me know he was in control.
His tone was firm. “I don’t care why you lied. You need to understand what’s going to happen now.”
My heart banged in my chest, and I tightened my teeth together so hard, my jaw ached.
The redhead slid up beside him, her guarded gaze on me. “We know you work for Channel Five, and you came here to get a story.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But you got distracted by what was on the table, didn’t you?”