by J. L. Beck
A warmth fills the air...light mixed with dark.
My heart beats a million miles per minute, and the hair on the back my neck stands up. I’ve escaped one monster only to be trapped by another.
I’m frozen, too terrified to move, when I hear someone behind me. I suck in a sharp breath. It hurts my lungs, but helps build the shrill scream about to leave my throat. I feel hands on me, and they’re those of a man. The roughness of his touch is unforgiving—as if he’s angry and wants to punish me.
Before my scream can make an appearance, I’m pushed face-first onto the couch. I’m in full-on panic mode now. I try to get up, but he leans his large body into mine, making it impossible for me to move. His grip is relentless, and when I feel something hard pressing against my ass, I gasp.
No. No. No.
“Usually, I don’t fuck women in here, but since you seem so interested in my office, I suppose I should give you the grand tour while you ride my cock.”
My eyes squeeze shut, and my body freezes. My brother sent me to be raped. Tears prick my eyes. My yoga pants are ripped down my legs, and I start to shake while sinking deeper into the cushion. I want the moment to be over. I bite the inside of my cheeks. The copper taste of blood fills my mouth, and I focus on the bitterness of it.
“If you want the job you, can’t be so tense. No one wants to fuck a piece of board,” a dark voice whispers against my hair.
A shudder runs through my entire body. I’m not sure I’ll ever get his deep, gravely voice out of my head again...
Chapter Two
Damon
Why the fuck is this bitch so tense?
I can't have a girl work at my strip club if she is going to be this uptight. Her back isn’t even bowed, and she looks uncomfortable as fuck. Still, it would be a shame to send this one away.
Maybe she’s playing hard to get. I smirk. I love it when they play hard to get. The rougher the better.
I reach for the waistband of her stretchy yoga pants and pull them down roughly. She whimpers underneath me, and again, I wonder if it’s an act. It has to be an act. No one shows up here, especially a woman, without expecting to get fucked. I rub my rock-hard cock between her ass cheeks, making it crystal clear what I want.
She’s got a nice body, a plump ass, and enough meat on her hips for me to grip onto when I pound into her.
“You know, for someone who snuck into my office and waited for me…you play really fucking hard to get. Is this how you like it?” I lace my fingers into her hair and nip at her ear, growling the words. I’m getting seriously fucking frustrated.
I reach around her body and slip a hand into the front of her panties. Expecting to find her cunt wet and ready, I’m surprised when I find her soft, warm clit dry. She isn’t here to fuck me. Fucking pity. Hopefully, I don't have to kill her.
I pull my hand away from her pussy and loosen my grip on her hair, but I don't release her yet. She's not going to get away from me that easily.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl, my fingers slipping to the back of my jeans, resting against my gun. If she is not here for the job or to get fucked, then what the hell does she want?
“M-M-My brother...sent me.” She stumbles over her own words, and my gaze rakes over her body. Her bare ass is shaking…her entire body…
“He’s dead…”
I flip her over onto her back so I can see her face.
She doesn't look familiar, and I would definitely remember a pretty face like hers. Beautiful brown eyes almost too large for her heart-shaped face, and those lips…they're plump, fuckable. I want them around my cock—preferably right now—but I doubt that's going to happen tonight.
She looks at me with fear in her eyes, her body trembling. It bothers me, but not enough for me to stop myself from pulling my gun out. I'm not fond of killing women, but I do what needs to be done.
“Who the fuck is your brother?” I snarl. My body is still impossibly close to hers. If she tries to escape, I’ll have my hand wrapped around her throat in a second.
I watch her face. Her lips quiver. There is no way she is the sister of one of my men. No one who is affiliated with us gets this terrified over a simple question. But then again, I’ve seen grown ass men piss their pants dealing with me.
“Are you fucking deaf?” I press the barrel of the gun into her side, right between her ribs. If I pull the trigger, she’ll die. There's no way around it.
“Puh...puh…please don't.” Tears stain her cheeks.
I lean closer, smelling her fear, but beneath it, I get a whiff of strawberry. It’s faint, barely there, but it makes my mouth water. I suddenly have the ridiculous urge to kiss her.
What the fuck?
I don’t kiss. I don’t cuddle. I don’t do dates. I don’t do shit that could possibly lead to anyone thinking I like a girl for anything other than the hole between her legs.
But this girl…she has me intrigued. She’s different from the girls I usually have at my mercy.
She also still hasn’t told me who her fucking brother is, and that's pissing me the hell off. I ask a question, I get a fucking answer.
“I’m not used to asking twice so you better give me a fucking answer now before I blow your brains all over my office.”
“Le...Le...Leo is…w-w-was my brother. He…he’s dead.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Leo told me about his little sister a while back. I don’t know much about her, but I do know she knows nothing about the shit her brother was caught up in. He asked me watch out for her incase something bad happened. And promising to watch out for her was the only way I could get him to do some of the more risky drops. I didn't think that promise would actually show up in my office one day.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with her? She is not my responsibility. So what if I told him I'd look after her. It's not like her brother is going to come back to life to see if I kept my promise.
I move toward my desk. Sinking into the leather chair, I prop my feet up on the edge, and order, “Pull your pants back up.” I can't have a half-naked girl in my office and not fuck her. I’m already going to have blue balls as it is. Maybe I’ll take that new stripper for a test ride…what's her name? Amanda? Anna?
My attention shifts back to the present. Kiera…or Kilie, I think is her name. She sits very still for a long moment, and I worry maybe she didn't hear me. She's not gonna last one fucking day here if she doesn't learn to do as she's told when she’s told.
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from saying anything else. It's not something I do often, and I'm not really sure why I do it for her. The girl finally scurries to get her pants back on, then grabs her backpack off the chair and heads for the door.
I almost snap. God, she’s a pain in the ass.
“I don’t remember saying you could leave.” She stops dead in her tracks, and I smirk. It’s fun to know I have some type of control over her.
“Sit your ass back down. We’re done when I say we’re done.” I can see her legs shake from across the room, and wouldn't be surprised if they gave out, sending her plump ass to the floor.
She wears her emotions on her face. She’s weak. Filled to the brim with fear—and over what? I’ve watched many of my men die, have killed people who didn’t really deserve it, and I never felt a single drop of remorse.
So why the fuck am I feeling sorry for her?
“How do you know he’s dead?” My gaze turns to slits.
“I found him,” she says, her voice shaky. Her brown eyes refuse to meet mine, and that’s infuriating. A person’s eyes are the portal to their soul. How can I be sure she is telling me the truth if she refuses to look me in the eye?
“I found him in my apartment,” she finishes, visibly swallowing.
“Did you call the cops?” I ask, and this time when she looks at me, her brown eyes go wide and she shakes her head. At least she wasn’t dumb enough to phone them. “Write your address down.” I throw her a pen and piece of paper and
watch her scribble something down. When she’s done, she gets up to hand me the items, but her hands are so damn shaky, she drops the pen.
She gets down on her hands and knees beside my desk, searching for it. As if my cock wasn’t pressing uncomfortably against my zipper already.
Fuck this girl.
A second later, her head pops up and she places both the items in front of me, before pushing up from the floor. I’d love to see the look on her face when I tell her how much blood has been spilt on this floor.
“Why…why do you need my address?”
“Well, I need to send a cleanup crew out for one, and two I’ve got to figure out what the hell kind of shit your brother was into to get him killed.” She winces at the mention of her brother, but I don’t have the time or patience to tiptoe around her feelings. “Do you have a phone?”
“Y-yes.”
“Give it to me.”
She digs in her girly backpack and hands me the phone. I smash it on the floor, then step on it for good measure. I can’t have her calling people or taking pictures from inside my office. She stares up at me, but doesn’t say anything. Thank. Fucking. God.
“Stay here, don’t move, and don’t fucking touch anything.”
Getting up, my chair scoots back on the hardwood floor. Even that simple noise makes her flinch. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with her? Was she abused? Attacked?
I think back to the way I treated her a few minutes ago. Guilt pricks my conscience. Fuck me. At least she’s not like all the other women who only want to throw themselves at me.
Shaking my head, I make my way out of the room, closing the door behind me. I pull my key out of my pocket and lock the door.
Now that she’s here, she’s a liability. A loose end. And I can’t risk having her fuck up my entire life because she doesn’t understand how dark and dangerous world this is.
I find Toni in one of the back rooms and give him the address on the paper.
“Send a cleanup crew out there right now. If anyone gives you trouble, contact Shane.”
“Sure thing, boss.” He takes the paper and gets up from the leather couch. There we go—how it’s supposed to be. I make an order and shit gets done. No questions asked, no comments, or whimpering. Now, I need to figure out how I get the chick in my office to do the same.
I rub my jaw. It has been a while since Leo did work for me. I’d have to wait for the cleanup crew to get back to see who’s possibly responsible for this shit. Every gang has their own way of killing people. Some carry it out over hours, torturing, cutting, and destroying. Others simply place a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger. From the look on Kiera’s face, I’m assuming it wasn’t a bullet wound her brother died from.
Jesus, I need a drink...and a blowjob.
Fuck babysitting.
I’m not keeping that girl.
No. Fucking. way.
Chapter Three
Kiera
Did he lock me in here?
I can’t get my stupid hands to stop shaking, or the rest of my body, for that matter. I don’t want to be here—in this room…or anywhere near Damon Rossi. I should’ve known coming here was a bad idea. Why the fuck would Leo send me to this guy? Better yet, what the hell had my brother been doing to get himself killed?
I ponder the thought for a long time, standing there, not wanting to sit. My eyes move to the wooden door holding me inside this room.
Even though I know he locked the door when he left, I still walk over to it and check. My fingers close around the cool brass knob. When I try to turn it, it’s no surprise that it’s locked.
I walk back to where I was standing before, my gaze moving to the couch. The couch where he pinned me down...
Shivers rack my body. I felt violated, terrified, but even so, the feeling of his hands on me was intoxicating—something I never want again.
I have no idea how long I’ve been in this room, but it feels like forever. Judging by the loud music and chatter outside the office door, the club must be open now. I consider banging on the door and yelling for help, but something tells me the people who come here and work for Damon wouldn’t do a damn thing to help me. If anything, they’d help him.
The longer I sit inside this room all alone, the more terrified of the unknown I become. When is he going to come back? What’s going to happen to me? Will he kill me? I remember the look in his brown eyes as he pressed the gun to my ribcage. There was no remorse…no kindness. My thoughts continue to run rampant, upping my anxiety. A key rattling and the sound of the door being unlocked drags me out of the abyss, and I stand.
The door opens slowly, and the same lady from this morning sticks her head into the room. “Hey, sunshine, you hungry?”
Starving, actually. I haven't eaten all day. “I could eat something.”
I watch her wearily. The door opens farther, and she walks in holding a plate with a variety of food on it.
“Thank you,” I tell her when she hands it to me, as well as a bottle of Coke she has under her arm. She nods and turns on her heels to leave.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I keep my voice calm. I have no reason to be afraid of her, right?
Looking back over her shoulder, her eyebrows raise. “Depends on what kind of question you’re asking.”
I nibble on my bottom lip for a moment. “What kind of work do people do around here for Damon?”
I don’t think Damon would tell me what my brother did for him even if I could muster up the courage to actually ask him. This might be the only shot I have at finding an answer.
“Most of the girls just strip, but some do more for extra cash.”
“Oh…What about the guys he has working for him?” Her eyebrows suddenly draw together, like my question angers her.
“Don’t ask shit like that around here. That will only get you in trouble. If you want to know about working here as a stripper or hooker, I’ll fill you in with all the info you’ll ever need before taking the job. Other than that, don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
Her words chill me to the bone.
Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.
“Sorry,” I mutter. Clearly, I’m barking up the wrong tree with some of my questions, but I am curious to know more about the women who work here.
“Why do girls work here?” I don’t understand how anyone would work in a place like this…for a man like Damon.
She shrugs. “The money is good, and Damon lets the girls keep a fair amount of what they make. He also doesn’t pimp them out unless they want to be pimped out.”
There is a moment of silence that settles between us, and then she continues. “He doesn’t force any of them into prostitution. That’s better treatment than you’ll get from any of the other clubs around here.”
I nod like I understand, but I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. How could a woman sell herself to a man—to be used…for pleasure?
If the way Damon treated me earlier on the couch is an example of the way his men treat women, then I want to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to work here if you don’t want to. Damon won’t force you into something you don’t want.”
Uneasiness filters into my veins. Obviously she doesn’t know the Damon who showed himself to me a few hours ago. If she did, she’d probably think differently…or maybe she wouldn’t because she’s so used to this behavior.
“No offense, but I don’t want to work here. I don’t want to be touched, or even looked at. This place and these people terrify me.”
She nods and smiles. Her expression makes me feel warm inside.
“No offense taken, honey. Eat your food, relax, and I’ll be back later to see if you need anything, okay?”
I nod, my eyes going to the plate in my hands. The woman turns around and walks out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
I listen for the lock to be turned back into place
. When I don’t hear anything, I scurry across the floor, my heart beating loudly in my ears.
Can I really escape? I’m not sure where I’ll go, or even what I’ll do. With my brother gone, I have nowhere to live, and no way to pay my bills. That’s not even mentioning the men who are searching for me—the ones who left that scary ass note on my fridge. I forgot to tell Damon about the note and the men I saw in the stairwell at my apartment.
Would it really matter if I told him?
A part of me says no. He’s heartless, dangerous, and oozes arrogance. I’m naive…I know this. My brother reminded me often, but even I’m not dumb enough to get mixed up with Damon.
I want to run—no, I’m pretty sure I need to run. The fear of what may happen to me if I stay controls my movements. In Damon’s presence, I am weak and afraid. All of this—these people and this place—leaves me scared.
I can’t stay.
I won’t.
After waiting a few more minutes to make sure she has walked away, I open the door enough to stick my head out. When I don’t see or hear anyone, I swing it open all the way and make a run for it.
I force air in and out of my lungs as my pulse pounds in my ears, and I don’t even consider what may happen to me if I get caught.
I speed walk down the hall and around the corner. I’m so close...so close…and that’s exactly how far I get before running into a hard wall of muscle.
My hands fly up upon instinct, my palms landing against his chest. I jump back and retract my hands, as if touching Damon burns my skin.
“Didn’t I fucking tell you to stay in my office?” He is furious. The look in his eyes is deadly, and I’m so scared, I think I might throw up. Everything about Damon sets off my fight or flight instincts.
“If you don’t start listening to what I say, you’re going to end up like your stupid brother.”
All my fear transforms into fury, and in that moment of insanity, I slap Damon right across the face.