by Beck, J. L.
The idea of being caught by those sinister men makes me move faster. My map pinpoints the location to somewhere called Night Shift.
After walking for what seems like forever, I arrive at the building, my eyes gliding over it. I clench my jaw in anger.
It’s a strip club.
There’s a sign plastered to the front window.
NOW HIRING: BEST STRIPPERS IN THE AREA.
My mouth goes dry. Why did my brother send me to a strip club? This has be some kind of sick joke…a chance for him to get back at me after death? Shivering, I grow afraid of the idea of going inside. Who am I asking for, and what if they tell me to leave? I wrap my arms around myself as a cold breeze blows through me.
Go inside, the same voice from earlier demands. I know I’m slightly unhinged, even more so because I’m hearing things inside my head, but it’s my body’s warning—my body’s way of making me do something I don’t want to because I’m too scared.
Dragging my feet across the concrete, I grip the metal door, the cold of it making all the warmth inside me dissipate.
I open the first door, and then a second, my feet moving on their own. I’m shaking like a damn leaf in the wind. I want to rewind time and go back to this morning when my brother was alive and joking with me.
When my feet stop moving, I realize I am at the bar. The inside isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. There is a huge stage with a large seating area centered around it on the far side of the room, and a long hallway off to the left.
“If you’re looking for the boss, he’s in his office.”
I lick my lips nervously, swallowing some of the fear down.
“Which way?” I barely get the words out. The women in front of me eyes me curiously, her hazel eyes piercing mine. She looks to be ten years older than me, her face all dolled up with makeup. Her curvy body with hardly any clothing on it. Her breasts all but falling out of her top, and the shirt—if you could even call it one—only covers half her stomach.
If she wore a bathing suit, it would have covered more skin.
“Down the hall that way.” She hooks a thumb in the direction of the hallway off to the left. “Follow it until the very end and turn left. You’ll see a big man standing outside his office, that’s how you’ll know you made it.” The mystery woman smiles warmly.
My legs quiver as I head off, fear of the unknown slithering up my spine. I don’t know what I’m walking into. From the looks of the place, women are nothing more than objects, and I don’t want to be an object, not for anyone. I don’t even want to be looked at, let alone touched.
Again, I question why my brother sent me here.
Walking down the dimly lit hall, I pass numerous wooden doors. A couple moans and screams have me scurrying faster, my feet slipping all over the floor. When I make it to the end of the hall, I turn left and stop. There’s a door directly in front of me, but no man standing outside it.
Am I in the right spot?
I trace the engraved letters on the door.
DAMON ROSSI.
I blink slowly. Below his name is one single word:
BOSS.
My stomach churns, and I press my hand against the door more firmly to hold myself up. I’m going to pass out. I know it. Today has pushed me beyond my limits. I’m scared out of my mind and have nowhere else to go. I guess I could go back home and be killed—or worse, caught by those bastards. Or…I could get my shit together, walk inside the office, and find out who Damon Rossi is to my brother. Taking a calming breath, I grab the brass knob and turn it slowly, then hold my breath as I push the door open. A low creaking sound emits from the damn thing. I exhale a moment later and poke my head inside.
I can’t help but feel like a rabbit caught in a snare. Like something bad is about to happen.
My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. It’s like I’m an intruder, but I force myself to stay put. My brother wouldn’t have sent me here if he didn’t think I’d be safe, right? The fact that I need to find out who Damon is pushes me onward. I let my backpack slide off my shoulder, and deposit it onto the chair in front of the desk.
My fingers trail against the mahogany wood, and I walk around the room. There’s a manliness about this place.
It’s dark and sinister, and smells of tobacco and whiskey. Files lay on his desk with girls’ names written on the front of each folder. I open one out of pure curiosity, and gasp, closing it quickly when I see the picture of a naked woman in a very provocative position.
My gaze drops to a drawer under the desk. I know I shouldn’t be snooping, and I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but I feel the need to search...for something...anything. I reach for the handle, but when I try to pull it open, I realize it’s locked.
Looking around the room in disappointment, I realize there’s nothing else for me to find in here. Walking back around the desk, I’m about to sit down on the couch when I feel the air shift around me.
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.
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