by T. L Smith
Raven sees and starts to shake her head, but weekend shifts I can never say no to. They come with outstanding money in the form of tips.
“Hello.” I listen to him ask me to come in. Saying no would be so easy. But instead, I tell him I’ll see him later this afternoon.
Raven sighs the minute she hears me accept the work. “Really?” she huffs.
“We need the money.”
She shakes her head, standing. “I need a damn job,” Raven says.
Raven can’t work. Her hours drain her as it is, especially when she’s at the hospital. And they are long-ass hours too.
***
After a beautiful day spent together watching movies and eating junk food, I stand to grab my bag that’s always packed and ready to go. Raven picks up her keys and drives me to work. We say our goodbyes, and I watch as she drives away.
I’m standing at the entry to the club, hoping tonight will be a good night and I make some extra money. Walking in, the bouncer nods his head to me. The girls wear the bare minimum, but most are naked, and there are men everywhere. It’s packed. Another busy night. Bachelor parties always bring in the extra family members.
“Samara,” my boss says as I enter the back room to begin getting changed. I incline my head to listen to him. “You’re on stage in the private room in ten.” Then he walks off with no thank you, no how are you. The prick. Dressed in a tiny black skirt that sits above my ass, so my cheeks are out, my blonde wig pulled tightly over my head and a face full of make-up, I walk out ready to dance because that’s what I’m good at.
Dancing and making my worries disappear.
My hips shake, my body rolls on the pole, and not once do I actually look anyone in the eye. Not once do I care who’s there. It’s like I’m the only one in a big empty room, and I sway to the music while enjoying the sounds. That is until his voice penetrates and breaks through my barriers.
“Samara.” It’s simple, my name. Yet, I hate that word coming from him.
Another mistake.
A one-night mistake that I still haven’t ridden myself of. No matter how hard I’ve tried. Picking up my discarded top from the floor, I start to walk quickly out of that room. He’s faster though, and his hand touches my upper arm, capturing it in his.
“Let me go.”
He doesn’t, he looks at me closely. “He isn’t here to protect you anymore.” Jamie smirks.
“I don’t need protecting, Jamie. I can look after myself.”
He shakes his head. “I’m a police officer… you’re a stripper, Samara. Exactly, who’s more believable?”
“I would be if you couldn’t talk,” I say, pulling my arm free and managing to get away this time.
A one-night stand with a cop that I can’t seem to escape.
Just my luck.
Just my life.
Chapter 7
Anton
I’ve managed to go two days without stalking or calling her, or for that matter sneaking into her apartment and having my way with her body. Work hasn’t been the same, my mind is always drawn to her taste and smell, the curves of her body. And that scar down her chest, it’s beautiful just as she is.
Fuck.
Walking into Death’s house, Pollie and their baby are on the couch. Pollie’s laying back with their son on her chest as he sleeps.
“He’s at Café Jadore…” Pollie tells me, “… the all-natural one,” she finishes with a smirk on her face. “Go and meet him there,” she insists.
Walking back out and getting into my car, I drive to the stupid fucking café where I see Death standing outside leaning against his car. He doesn’t look up, his head is stuck in the paper as I make my way to him.
“Fucker,” I yell. People turn and scowl at me. I don’t really care, it wasn’t directed at them, rather this massive ass standing in front of me. He looks up then back to his paper. “You’re on duty with me today,” I tell him, reminding him we have to check the gun shipment. Turning around and looking in, I wonder why the fuck he comes here. “You trying to lose all that extra weight you’ve put on?” I ask him while staring inside. A dark-haired beauty with her back to us looks extremely familiar. “You come here for the food or the woman?” I ask him laughing, as I turn back to face him. He’s on me in a second, his hand coming up to my neck. Death might be fast, but I’m faster. I manage to sidestep him, then I hear a very familiar voice.
“Fuck.”
That word’s being used a lot today.
Sam closes the door, walking back in. Turning to Death, his lip twitches then he looks back down to the newspaper he’s reading. The sight of her is an awesome distraction, even if it’s one of her walking away. I walk off straight after her. Sam’s avoiding me and tries to escape out the back.
“Do you remember what happens in public, Sam?”
Her head pops back, and she shakes her head slowly. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would,” I say, nodding my head. I will scream and yell just to gain her attention again, and those lips.
“If you do I might just stab you this time. So be warned, we are in a kitchen area.” She steps out from the door, but keeps a reasonable distance between us and walks to the counter staying on the other side of it.
“You and Death have some sort of secret relationship?” I raise my eyebrow at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“No.”
“Then why is he here?” I ask her.
Sam looks behind me and pushes me out of the way. She passes him two bowls then he walks out. Not saying a word.
“Food,” I say incredulously. A laugh bubbles up from my lips, and her hand goes to her hip.
“Is this funny? Maybe you can take your shit outside, I have work to do.” She turns as I lean on the counter to be closer to her.
“So tonight then?” I ask her.
She spins around fast and replies with a simple, “No.”
“Why not?” I retort back.
I will win.
Third time’s a charm.
Then once she’s out of my system, and I can fuck whoever I want again.
“Because it will lead to nothing good.”
“It’s just sex, kitten.”
“Kitten?” she asks, shaking her head.
“I was thinking something dirtier, but thought you may slap me, so kitten will have to do for now.”
“Yeah, still not happening,” she says with her lip curled up.
“What if I go to your apartment and get your sister on my side.”
“Don’t you dare,” she seethes at me.
“Oh, touchy subject. All right… so just sex. One more time?” I say to her. She looks around, horrified that my words were so loud. “Sex,” I say again even louder. “Sex,” I say it again almost screeching.
“Oh my God, would you shut up before you get me fired.” Her hand comes up to my mouth trying to cover it.
“If you agree to come with me after you finish.”
“To your mom’s?” She laughs, but it’s fake. “Yeah… no thank you.”
“No, to mine.”
She goes to shake her head, and I begin to scream something. Sam sees what’s about to leave my lips and slaps her hand over my lips, effectively muffling my words.
“Fine! I finish at five. Don’t be late.” Then she turns and walks off, slamming the door as she goes through to the back of the store. I watch her ass the whole time. Then I turn to walk out and find Death’s left, the fucker.
***
He’s sitting on the couch the same way Pollie was when I walked in last time. Pollie is up and eating while Death watches his son on his chest.
“You didn’t tell me you buy your food where she works,” I say, sitting down and lounging back.
“Not my business,” he grumbles.
“You didn’t think to tell me my future love-kitten would be there, and easier for me to find when I was looking for her? Instead, you made me search for her?”
“Again, not my problem,” he r
eplies, looking down at his son.
“If you didn’t have that son of yours in your arms, I would so fucking pull that nipple ring from your skin.” Pollie gets up and lifts the baby from Death’s chest. “I’m so going to fuck you up.” I run to jump on him, but he moves so I land on the couch where he just vacated.
“Grow the fuck up,” he says, walking off. Death comes back out with his jacket on and waiting at the door.
We’re obviously ready to go, so we head out.
“How long have you known her?” I ask, as I start the car up and drive off.
“Why are you so interested? I thought she was just a fuck,” he teases.
Scoffing at him. “She is, but you knew I was looking for her.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t know it was her.” He points to the building we are to stop at, then climbs out of the car. He walks ahead of me, not waiting, and enters the building. It’s crowded with gunrunners and their bosses. Kazier is the manager of the whole operation, and standing in this building right now—because Kazier’s not here—we’re the highest-ranking syndicate officials, and that’s the reason everyone goes silent when we enter. All eyes are now firmly on us.
“Boys.” The old man nods his head. He walks over, waving us over to his office. We follow him in, and he sits before he opens his mouth to speak. “We’ve had heat this last week.”
“What kind of heat?” I ask him.
“Police heat. One in particular. The boys have seen him around, and we think he’s sussing us out. Just not sure, we have nothing concrete to go on.”
“Move the operation. Check that none of your men are informants. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done. It’s not fucking good enough. We can’t have cops sniffing all around in our business.”
He nods his head because that’s all he can give me right now.
Then we leave, with all eyes on us as we head to my car.
Chapter 8
Samara
I lied to him! My shift finished at three, I just told him what he wanted to hear so he would leave me alone. Walking out of work, I look around to make sure he isn’t there—he shouldn’t be, I told him five. Except he is there and smirking at me, with sunglasses covering his face and a devilish smirk touching his lips.
“It didn’t work,” he says, opening the passenger door of his car and holding it open for me.
“You couldn’t have known,” I tell him, stepping forward.
“I didn’t, I just guessed that it was close or around the fake time you gave me. It was just a matter of working out how early to get here. I’m glad I chose a two-hour time difference. I would have missed you otherwise.”
“You’re keen,” I say, shaking my head and stepping up to his car. Now that I’m standing right near him, I can smell him. His scent is everywhere, and it makes me go crazy with want.
“Keen for the p… u… s... s… y... baby.”
“You did not just spell out pussy to me like a teenager.”
He grabs my hand, places it on his crotch and squeezes, so my hand gets the full package. “Does this feel like a teenager to you, kitten?”
“It feels like… if you don’t let go of my hand right now, you may have an extremely bruised cock.”
He drops my hand so I can have it back, then waits for me to climb in, watching my ass the entire time. Even as he shuts the door to walk around to the other side, I feel his eyes on me. Anton is funny, witty, but most of all, sexually promiscuous and an addict who may be too much for me. Especially with the amount of times he wants to fuck. I’ll be sore, forever.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
He smirks as he turns the corner. “Back to mine. I told you, one last time.”
“Then you will leave me alone?”
He stops the car, but this time it’s not at the front of the massive mansion of a house, it’s at the back.
“I will.” I can feel the truth behind his words, he certainly believes them. I don’t like that thought, though, the truth can sometimes be a bitch.
Walking into what I guess is a guest house—which is more than triple the size of my bedroom—he pulls me in while taking his clothes off, starting with his shirt. Coming straight off, he tenses all those glorious muscles in his back covered in ink, then he drops his jeans. He’s wearing nothing underneath them as he walks to the fridge, opening it, and pulling out a bottle, then turning with glazed eyes and they land on me.
“Get naked before I tear your clothes from your body, Sam.”
Inside isn’t as bright as it is outside. The curtains are black and the only natural light that feeds in is from the front windows near the door, plus the kitchen. And despite all that, I feel absolutely fine getting naked in front of him, whereas most men I don’t. Yes, my job involves getting naked, and yes, I’m very good at it, but I wear a disguise. Make-up covers my face and body, especially over my scar. Plus, I can’t see anyone because the lights on the stage are set up that way.
When Anton’s eyes are on me, though, I see the lust written in them. The way his hands skim my body, the way his lips touch my scar as if he doesn’t care it’s there, as if it’s beautiful. Maybe to him it is, he has his own fair smattering of scars over his body.
My clothes start dropping as he steps closer with a bottle of champagne in hand, his eyes still glazed and his lips quirked up. They rake me over as each piece of clothing is removed, and I feel like a goddess, similar to how I feel when I’m on the stage dancing—
the power you hold over knowing those people are there to see you even if you can’t see them and you are immersed in your own little world.
Anton is here for me, and me alone. That’s the power I have over him. Maybe that’s why I suck at aiming for a solid “no” around him, but I seem to never achieve that “no.” I knew after the first time I should never go back, but then I got sucked in again, and now the third time which he says is the last time. This is the final time I’ll have my fill of Anton, and I’m about to take it knowing that’s it for us.
He reaches for me, but I pull back then I turn around, showcasing my ass he’s so fond of. Then I bend forward showing him all he wants. Because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s being a tease. I’ve mastered the art. It’s my job.
I feel him come up behind me. He taps my ass with his hand, then leans the base of the champagne bottle on my lower back, while I stay in the same position. I feel his erection pressed into the bottom of my legs, wanting to squeeze through. Anton’s hand rubs up and down my ass-cheek, pawing it before it disappears, and then he pushes his cock harder into me, but not entering. Just teasing.
That’s when I hear it. The pop. The bottle opens, and his loss is immediate as I’m left doing a yoga pose with my ass still in the air for his viewing pleasure with champagne dripping all down my legs between my ass and pussy. It’s removed, and I hear the clink hit the floor. Arms are around me, lifting me up, placing me on the back of the couch. I turn facing him, so I’m upside down, my legs open and his face mere inches away.
The side of his lips quirk up as he looks down at me, then I reach up for his hair, pulling him to me so he knows exactly what I want. Yes, I agreed to one last time for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be serviced as well. Because I know how good this man is with everything sexual, and I plan to milk it for all it’s worth.
Our lips collide as more champagne is poured. Opening my eyes, I see the bottle back in his hand, and I’m balancing on the top of the couch now with his hands between my legs as I pull away from his lips.
“That’s not where I wanted to taste,” he says with a smirk.
My hands slide up my wet body, I’m going to be sticky after this, of that I’m sure. I reach for his hand and slide it between my legs to that magical spot, then I sit back up and reach for his hair as I pull him to my legs, directing him exactly where his mouth needs to be.
“I like it when you’re greedy, kitten,” he purrs and the vibration shocks through me as h
is mouth kisses me on my lips below. My hand drags through his hair, gripping it as he fucks me with his mouth.
I want this to never end.
Then I shake that thought off as he makes me come.
I sit up and stand, dropping to my knees in front of him, gripping his cock with both hands and placing it in my mouth. He moans, and I know he likes it. My tongue dances around his cock, and when the tip goes down further then back up again, I can taste his precum. He grips my hair and pushes me in, lets go, pulls back, then picks me back up again and places me over the couch.
“Bad, kitty.” His hand slaps my ass. This time it wasn’t play, it was hard and sexual. I moan, then wonder how the fuck that left my mouth.
Then he slams into me, hard and fast, my ass in the air, my head upside down and my feet not able to touch the floor any longer.
“Purr, kitty.”
I shake my head, out of breath.
“Purr, kitty,” he screams it again.
“Fuck you, just fuck me,” I say to him while breathing heavily.
Anton grips my hair, pulls it, then stops moving and slaps my ass again, while he’s inside of me.
“Purr for me, kitty, fucking purr…” he says right near my ear then bites it. His teeth nibble, and I try to move, wanting the friction back, to which he laughs in my ear. He lets go of my hair and slides his hand around to my breast, pinching my nipple and pushing me into the couch so I can’t move.
How can he restrain himself so well? I’m wanting to climb the walls because he isn’t moving!
Then I do it.
I fucking purr.
Just for his cock.
Bastard.
He laughs, but the moment he does, he loosens his grip, so I rock into him, getting my friction back, which makes him shut up and grab my waist.
Then he takes control and fucks me the way he should have from the beginning.
Like a whore.
Not his plaything.
We’re sticky, that’s for sure. It’s dark outside now as well. Anton is lying on the tiled floor while I struggle to sit up. I need to wash this all off of me. He doesn’t move, so I turn back to watch him. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful. It’s so unlike him. His skin is so soft, the ink mars his skin, and a manly scent that drives me crazy.