by M. Robinson
“I’m in.”
I nodded and left.
Getting into my limo, pouring myself a glass of whiskey to take the edge off what I had just done. We still had to make a few more stops on my way back to the strip club, lining everything up for the coming weeks. Needing to meet with some partners, to let them know Austin was taking over Briggs’ territory.
Effective immediately.
My head was fucking pounding by the time I walked through the back entrance of the club and into my office. I sank down into my leather chair, placing my elbows on the desk, instantly resting my head in the palms of my hands. Contemplating if I was doing the right thing by putting Austin in charge. My thoughts plagued my mind day and night, one right after the other. So unforgiving and malicious, punishing me for intervening in my niece’s life once again.
Power changed people, but I figured it might have been in Briggs’ best interest if she saw the truth beneath the fiction. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
The commotion from the hallway outside of my door broke my concentration, dissolving my conflicting thoughts. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my fingers back and forth over my mouth. Trying to overhear the voices getting closer and closer to my door.
“I know he’s here! I saw him get out of his limo and sneak in through the back! This is bullshit! I’m talking to him whether he likes it or not. I’ve spent all day here, and I don’t have any more time to waste.”
The uproar came closer and closer.
“Ma’am!” Rick shouted after her.
“I told you to stop calling me that! My name is Lexi! L-e-x-i!”
I grinned, amused. Shaking my head, the fucking girl still had brass balls. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was here because she had grown a pair of tits and her ass filled out. It had been three years since I last saw the little spitfire and my cock was more than eager to see what waited behind the closed door.
My demeanor quickly changed as soon as I watched her barge into my office without a care in the world, especially for the pissed off man sitting behind the desk.
“Well, well, well, look at what we have here. Have you ever heard of a goddamn phone?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. Taking Lexi in.
Rick ran in after her, out of breath. “I’m sorry, boss. I—”
“Leave us,” I ordered in a harsh, demanding tone. Waving him away with my hand.
He apprehensively nodded, taking his sweet ass time to leave. I resisted the urge to tell him to move fucking faster. Shutting the door behind him, not a moment too soon.
Lexi swallowed hard as soon as he left, stepping further into my office. Looking from me over to the chair in between us, silently requesting permission to sit down. I didn’t grant her any leniency. She sure as hell didn’t deserve it. She should have known better than to barge into my office like an un-caged animal. She must have forgotten who she was dealing with, and I was fully prepared to fucking remind her.
But mostly, I just wanted to fuck with her. She made it so damn easy.
I glared at her with a predatory regard, placing my feet up on my desk one by one, and leaning back further into my chair, slowly, sensually rubbing my thumb over my lips. Visually making her extremely uncomfortable, as my eyes wandered over her body. It would take an idiot not to realize that Lexi didn’t like being admired, like most girls with her appearance would.
I didn’t give a fuck. I wanted to look at her, so I did. She was no longer a little girl, for damn sure. Her dark brown hair was longer, cascading all the way down the sides of her face and shoulders. Soft curls dwindling at the ends, accentuating the silky allure it still had to it. She was wearing thick, black eyeliner, emphasizing her intense green eyes that were trying to stare directly into my soul.
It wouldn’t take long until she realized I didn’t have one. And for some reason I couldn’t fucking fathom, it bothered me more than it had in years.
I never stopped rubbing my callused fingers over my mouth, as her gaze followed the movement of my hand, causing her pouty fucking lips to purse as she watched my every move. Triggering my fingers to wipe off the bright red lipstick from her mouth.
My scowl trailed down her neck toward her tits, which were on full display, just waiting to be freed from her hot pink lacy bra, right down to her narrow, tiny waist. I immediately envisioned latching onto it, guiding her down my cock.
A thought that should have never crossed my goddamn mind, but I was still a man.
And she was like the forbidden fruit I wanted to fuck.
Her revealing cutoff top showed off her tan stomach and her pierced fucking bellybutton. Narrowing my eyes, I continued my visual assault down to her slender thighs, wanting to nestle my face between them. My cock twitched at the thought of her riding my face. She still had legs that went on for miles, barely covered by a small skirt, more like a piece of fabric that hid what I knew was her perfect fucking pussy.
Topping it all off, she wore fuck-me heels. This girl was just asking to be fucked twelve ways to Sunday, barging in here dressed the way she was.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, needing to break the silence between us.
“Whatever the fuck I want. Or did you forget this is my office you so rudely intruded in on?” Arching an eyebrow, I cocked my head to the side. Adding, “So tell me… did you dress like a whore for me, little girl?”
I jerked back like he had hit me, stunned. “I didn’t—”
“That wasn’t a question, sweetheart. Allow me to let you in on a little tip. I’m surrounded by fucking whores twenty-four-seven. If I wanted one, all I would have to do is walk outside that door.” He pointed directly behind me. “They’re a dime a dozen, dropping to their knees, itching to get a taste of my cock. Is that what you want?”
I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, slowly crossing my legs. Leaning over on the bureau, giving him an ample view of my cleavage. I knew he liked what he saw, his eyes seemed to keep settling there.
I had spent the last few months, debating if I was really going to do this. Every time I looked at my acceptance letter to Julliard, I knew this was my only hope in being able to attend the school. He was my last resort. Believe me, I didn’t want to have to sell my soul to the Devil.
But what other choice did I have?
It took me forever to apply the pound of makeup I had on my face, not to mention trying to find the sluttiest clothes at the local thrift stores. I started helping out a lot more at the dance studio these last few years, and Mary, my instructor, was adamant on paying me, now that I was older. She didn’t give me much, but it was something. I’d been saving almost all of it, and I had enough for my first and last month’s rent at a shitty apartment, miles away from school. I would have to find a loop-hole in Julliard’s strict policy for first years students. There was no way I could afford living on or near campus.
Although none of that mattered to me. All my hard work had finally paid off, and I got accepted to the school of my dreams.
Julliard.
This job could set me up for life. As much as I didn’t want to be sitting here in his office, whored out, it was my only choice. I realized after our first short encounter that nobody stood up to Martinez. As much as he seemed to get off on my appearance, he also enjoyed my snarky tongue. It’s not like I could help it, I wouldn’t show fear to anyone.
Especially him.
“Well, here’s a little tip for you,” I retorted, bringing his attention back up to my face. “Maybe you should take one of those whores up on their offers, it might help get rid of your shitty attitude. Or they could just help remove the stick that seems to be permanently shoved up your ass,” I proudly stated, smiling.
His eyes glazed over. It was quick, but I saw it. He didn’t falter, not that I expected him to. “I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong.”
I smiled, big and wide at him. I couldn’t help it. I liked his asshole demeanor. I had him right where I wanted him. Before I lost the
courage, I blurted out, “I need a job, Martinez.”
He didn’t waver. His expression was unaffected. Blank. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. I couldn’t read him, and it made me nervous more than anything. He retracted his legs from his desk, pushing back his chair. The sudden movement caused me to jump.
He never took his cold stare off of me. Slowly standing, he buttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie. I’d never met anyone who didn’t seem to have any emotions or feelings, any reactions to anything. As if he was just callous and detached from the world.
Or maybe he just knew how to pretend like he was. I knew all about pretending and for some reason, it made me feel better. Feeling as though there might be someone out there like me, but not just someone…
Him.
I cleared my throat. “Isn’t this usually where you answer? Do you give all your whores the silent treatment?” I nervously laughed.
Nothing.
I pulled out the acceptance letter from my purse, laying it on the desk in front of him. His eyes went from me toward the paper for just a second, as if he already knew what I was going to show him.
“See here is the thing. I’m a ballerina. I’ve been a ballerina my entire life. I don’t ever remember not dancing. It’s who I am, it’s in my blood. To make a really long story short, my mom is… I mean she’s…” I stammered, not wanting to share my pain with anyone. Let alone a complete stranger. Breaking our connection, I looked around the room as if the walls held what I was trying to say. “I don’t have anyone. Okay?” I simply stated, rubbing the back of my neck, seeking comfort.
“Why is this my problem?”
My head jerked up to look at him once again. I frowned, my disappointment evident from his response. “I got accepted into Julliard. I don’t have any money. I mean definitely not enough for tuition, housing, food, and everything else that I’ll need. I just need a job. I came to you today because your place is the best strip club in the city. Fuck… probably the state. Jesus, maybe even the world.”
“Kissing my ass isn’t going to get you a job.” He eyed me up and down. His eyes brazen and dilated. “You want to be a stripper, sweetheart?” he challenged, making his way over to the leather couch on the other end of the room. He sat down, leaned forward, and placed his elbows on his knees. His eyes bored into mine like he was calling my bluff without having to say a word.
There was something animalistic about the way he stared at me. Almost like a lion before it attacked its prey, luring me with his eyes and his captivating demeanor. Making me more nervous.
And wet.
“You think you got it in you? Huh? Then take off your fucking clothes.”
I shook my head. “What?”
“Did I fucking stutter? Take off your fucking clothes, Lexi. Let’s see if you got what it takes to be my whore. Bring those perky little tits out, let me see what I’m working with.”
“I… I… I’m… I…”
“What’s wrong? Not so cocky now, are you? That’s what I thought, nothing but a fucking pussy with a nice rack.” He narrowed his eyes at me with a sexy, arrogant expression that I wanted to smack off his face. “You know where the door is. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.”
“I know what you’re doing.” I didn’t move an inch. I wasn’t done with him, yet.
He slowly, purposefully nodded. “Is that right?” he drawled out.
“You’re trying to intimidate me. You don’t scare me, Martinez,” I stated, trying to hold my composure as best as I could.
I knew he was testing my limits. Provoking me on purpose, but this was a power struggle I wasn’t willing to lose. There was too much at stake.
My future.
He slid back onto the sofa. His legs were wide open, filling up the expanded space that now seemed smaller with him sitting in it. He extended his arms, resting them on the backrest of the couch, angling his head to the side.
Watching.
“The floor is all yours.” He motioned for me to come closer. “By all means, call my bluff. Strip for me, Lexi.”
He watched me for a few seconds or maybe it was minutes, time just seemed to stand still. My heart was in my throat, and my pulse quickened with every breath. Martinez didn’t bat an eye. He was calm, cool, and collected, displaying no emotion at all. So in control of his surroundings, of his demeanor.
Of me.
Manipulating me to do what he wanted without even trying very hard. I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him eat his words. I wanted him to like me.
This man really was the Devil.
The more severe and intense the situation, the better he was at remaining in control. He thrived on it, and there I was willingly feeding it to him. I had only just met the man, and I would do anything for him to keep looking at me with those sinful, green eyes.
He looked right through me.
I swallowed hard as I stood, hanging on to the back of the chair for support. The cool air caused my already heightened skin to rouse. Our eyes stayed connected the entire time as he watched my every move, like he was trying to ingrain it into his memory. Grabbing my ballet CD from my purse, I steadily walked toward his receiver, even though my legs were shaking. With my back now turned to him, I shut my eyes for a few seconds, needing to steady my emotions that were yearning to get the best of me. Before I could give it another thought, I placed the CD into the player and pressed the arrow button.
The soft melody of the piano vibrated through the speakers, filling the space between us.
“This should be interesting,” he sarcastically stated.
I ignored his jab, letting the music calm my body like it always did. I would never be able to listen to this song again and not think of him. A part of me thought he wanted that.
Me thinking of him.
“I don’t have all fucking day. Tick tock, sweetheart.”
I took one last deep breath and turned to face him. Nothing had changed about him, and I didn’t understand why I expected him to. I shook away the thoughts. I was a performer, goddamn it. I had been doing this my entire life. This wasn’t any different. Just less clothes, but not by much.
Slowly, I inched my leg out to the side, stretching, pointing the toe of my sky-high heel. Accentuating my toned muscles from years of ballet training. I gradually leaned forward, sensually rubbing my hands down my thigh, to my knee, then down to my calf, grabbing onto my ankle. I aligned my torso along my leg, leisurely making my way back up. Never taking my lustful eyes off of him. My hand continued its assault up the side of my body as I spun to face away from his daunting eyes.
Glancing over my shoulder, I slowly worked my hips as my hands went for my shirt. Easing it up my torso, taking it over my head effortlessly. Bringing the small piece of fabric across my chest, and out to the side, dropping it at my feet.
I teasingly grinned as my leg développéd to the side, almost reaching my ear. Showing him just how flexible I was. My skirt inched up, bunching at my hips, revealing my barely-there panties. Keeping my leg up, I pivoted my body to face him once again. Slowly, I brought my leg down, hooking my thumbs into the waist of my skirt, gracefully working it off my hips down to my feet. Pointing my toe, I flicked the discarded clothing toward him.
He narrowed his dark, dilated eyes at me. Recognition with an intensity I had never seen before. A gleam in his eyes that needed to break through all the sadness and despair, all the things that ate away at him. His serious expression captivated me in a way I had never experienced before. Which only added to the plaguing emotions that were placed in between us.
I stood there exposed to the devil, in nothing but my bra and panties. He sat on the couch more bared to me, and he was fully clothed.
The irony was not lost on me.
I shut my eyes, needing to get lost in the music. Hoping like hell I would make it out of here alive, and I wasn’t talking physically. I listened to “Any Other Name,” the intensity of the instrumen
ts vibrated through my core, translating into the sexual movements I incorporated in my ballet. I couldn’t open my eyes, too scared of what I’d see.
The man I would find staring back at me.
I didn’t have to wonder for very long. I felt him before he even touched me, his dominating presence attacking my senses. The smell of him all around, overwhelming me in ways I couldn’t begin to describe. I felt his strong, callused fingers caressing all along my spine as if he was trying to make sure I was real. I hated to be touched. Even after all these years, I despised it.
Though in that precise moment.
In that second.
With him…
I wanted him to touch me everywhere.
My chest rose and fell with each brush of his fingers against my skin. He was standing behind me, moving my hair to the side. Lightly skimming his lips across my exposed flesh, igniting tingles all over my body. From the side of my neck, to my shoulders, awakening a craving deep within my core for the first time in my life.
“Do you have any idea what I can do to you, Lexi? How I could make you feel? How much I could make you come,” he groaned into my ear, his raspy voice letting me know I was having an effect on him.
As much as he was on me.
I sucked in air as his fingers caressed the sides of my torso, and again along my back.
“Tell me,” he urged, never stopping the torment of his fingers. “Have you ever been touched?”
I moaned in response, my cheeks turning a bright shade of red. I felt him move in front of me, he never stopped caressing my skin. His thumb skimmed across my lips, wiping off my lipstick as if he’d wanted to do it since I walked in.
“Where, Lexi? Where do you want me to touch you?” He slid his fingers up my stomach, slipping them into the edge of my bra. I just about came undone, and he had barely touched me, yet. Not the way I wanted him to touch me. This is agonizing, pure torture. Another moan escaped my lips just from the anticipation of what he was going to do next.
“Here?” he taunted, grazing my cleavage with the tips of his fingers.