I’d never had sex like that. Ever. I never even knew that kind of sex was possible. I have no idea how many hours we stayed on that couch, silently holding each other’s faces, his fucking awesome cock sliding through me so deliciously I could feel every part of him, every ridge and vein.

Neither of us had come in the end, and it didn’t matter. An orgasm would have signaled something final, and neither of us wanted it to ever end. Until we did.

And the conclusion had been easy and effortless, too. His dick, red and semi-hard, slipped out of my pussy, which was raw and spent and tired. We’d fallen asleep on the couch in each other’s arms, then gotten up a few hours later to deal with the groceries I’d dropped on the floor.

We spent the rest of the day together, eating and talking, and then showering again, this time with no sex, just washing and kissing and holding each other until the water went cold.

I couldn’t think of a moment all day when we hadn’t been touching. Even while I cooked, he’d stood beside me, his hand soft but possessive on my lower back.

I was shocked when Melodie knocked on the door, saying it was time to leave for work.

Nick had gasped at the time too, said he had to talk to his brothers and would follow us later, so I arrived at the club with just Melodie.

“You seem happy,” Melodie said after we parked her car on a steep hill. We started walking down the alley toward the staff entrance. “Considering what went down last night.”

“I am happy.” For a second I wondered how she knew about our sexcapades, then I realized what she meant.

I grinned at her. “I almost forgot about that. It’s like it happened a lifetime ago.” A lifetime had happened since that asshole customer had touched me. Or at least a life-changing experience. The twenty minutes I’d been away from Nick while driving to the club felt like a month.

I’m sure whoever first said that absence made the heart grow fonder had longer timespans in mind, but I got what they meant. I really got it. I wasn’t sure how I’d get through work tonight, dancing on that stage for other men, knowing Nick was at the back of the club, watching.

While I danced, I’d be thinking about Nick’s lips, his face, his cock. About his gentle soul, his fierce loyalty, how he’d seen who I was—who I really was—yet still wanted to be with me.

Melodie opened the door, and I walked in first. The tang of stale beer and sweat struck my nostrils, but I didn’t let it swamp my mood. Angel was in the dressing room when we entered, attaching a long blond hairpiece to the back of her head. The shade didn’t match her hair, but it didn’t matter much under the colored stage lights. And it wasn’t like our clientele cared.

Spotting me in her mirror, Angel turned toward me, a wicked grin on her face. “Jade, Stan wants to see you.”

“Shit,” Melodie said. “I was afraid of that.”

I set down my purse. “It’s okay.” I smiled at Melodie’s worried reflection in the cracked mirror above one of the small tables. Not even Stan could damage my mood today.

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “For moral support.”

“He wants to see her alone,” Angel said with obvious spite in her voice.

“I’m sure he meant without Nick,” Melodie replied, and Angel turned away, frowning.

“I can handle it.” I smiled at Melodie. Stan probably just wanted to make sure I was still planning to dance after the incident last night. I crossed through the club, then climbed the spiral metal stairs in the club’s back corner that led to Stan’s office.

I knocked, and Stan yelled, “Come in.”

“You wanted to see me?” I entered the dimly lit room that overlooked the club.

Stan was sitting on the front edge of his desk. “Sit.” He gestured to a folding chair just in front of him.

I stayed a few feet inside the doorway. No way did I want to get that close to Stan’s greasy comb-over and leering blue eyes. “I’m fine, Stan. Nothing to worry about.”

The side of his mouth quirked up. “That’s for me to say, honey, not you.”

“Really, I’m fine. Even if Nick hadn’t stepped in, I had it under control.”

He frowned. “Dancers can’t kick customers.”

“I didn’t kick him.”

“You were going to.”

He fucking deserved it.

I choked down my ire. I needed to think before I spoke. “I won’t do it again.”

“You betcha you won’t, because you won’t be getting on that stage again.”

I inhaled away my brief disappointment. Waitressing wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But I had liked the rush of being on stage and the extra cash from my one set as a dancer. “Okay. I’m good waiting tables.”

“You don’t get it,” he said, way too pleased with himself. “You’re fired.”

“Fired?” I stepped forward. “Wait a second.” My mind spun. I’d never been fired. From any job. I’d been worried that Nick might get fired for attacking that man, but me? Talk about blaming the victim. “That asshole came a half inch from sticking his fingers inside me, but I get fired?”

“Dancers gotta set boundaries,” Stan crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “If a customer breaks them, she can’t go and attack him.”

“I didn’t—” I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to bring Nick into this. But if I’d been canned for my part in the man’s beating, Nick would definitely be fired. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

He shrugged.

“I’m willing to apologize to the customer. It was my first time on stage and no one explained the rules. I mean, shouldn’t I get a second chance?”

“This ain’t kindygarten.”

“They why not let me keep waitressing? Didn’t I do a good job?” The air in the room had thickened, making it hard to breathe.

I hadn’t gone a day without working since I was twelve. Back then, Ximena had paid me under the table for sweeping up hair, washing towels and taking out the trash at her salon in front of our tiny apartment.

I’d had to quit that job when Frank got us evicted, and after that, I’d taken charge of paying rent, along with the all the other bills, appreciating but never again depending on my father’s contributions.

“It’s not fair…”

“My place, my rules,” Stan sneered. “Unless…”

“What?” I stepped forward both angry and hopeful.

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. “I’ll let you suck me off. Do a good job, and I mean I fucking expect to see stars, then maybe you get a few shifts.”

His dick got hard under his leopard-print underwear. Yuck.

“Come on then.” He cupped his package. “Don’t got all day.”

Every instinct inside me wanted to ram my knee into that package, but the prospect of unemployment tightened my chest and stirred my stomach. Or maybe that last one was caused by Stan’s dick.

“Get over here.” Stan’s eyes narrowed. “Get your fucking mouth on my dick, bitch. I was going to be nice about it, but now, I think I’m going to choke you out.”

I pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the cops.”

“What?” He zipped up his fly.

“I think they might be interested to find out how the girls go fully nude in a place that sells alcohol. That’s illegal in this city last time I checked.”

Stan laughed as he walked toward me. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, you cunt. You know who owns this place?” He lunged and grabbed my arm.

I tried to knee him, but he outmaneuvered me—way faster and stronger than I expected.

Stan grabbed my hair and bent me forward, pulling so hard I thought my scalp might come off in his hand. “Suck my dick, bitch. Or maybe I’ll fuck your ass instead.” He reached past me to lock the door of the office.

I twisted against the pain in my scalp and grabbed his junk with my hand, digging my fingers into his balls.

His hold on my hair loosened. “Like it rough, do you? Figures.” He threw me against the wall, and I landed hard.

Stunned, I was almost back on my feet when he grabbed my hair again, pulling my head back and slamming it against the wall. He fumbled with his fly and I remained crouched there, feigning compliance.

I wrapped one hand over the other, making a double fist, and then straightened as I brought my arms up between his legs, using all the force inside me.

My scalp burned as he released his hold on my ponytail.

Doubled over, he staggered back. “Cunt.”

I unlocked the door, grabbed the handle, and escaped onto the landing.

I scrambled down the stairs, and two before the bottom, I nearly ran into Nick.

“Baby!” His face filled with alarm. “What’s wrong? Did Stan? Fuck. What did he do? I’ll kill him.” He tried to push past me on the stairs.

I grabbed Nick’s arm, forcing a smile onto my face. “All he did was fire me.”

“That asshole. I’ll take care of this.” He grabbed the staircase railing, waiting for me to step aside.

“Nick.” I stayed in his path, put my hands over his shoulders and kissed him.

His lips, our connection, calmed me, healed my wounded pride, and I saw my priorities more clearly.

Stan had done me a favor. I hated to be fired, but I didn’t want to work in this club—not as a dancer or a waitress. Other than the money, the only thing good about this club was I got to see Nick every night, but I’d see him after work regardless.

And if I told Nick what had happened upstairs, he’d kill Stan. Literally kill him. No way would I let that happen.

He broke our kiss. “I’ll talk to Stan. Firing you is bullshit.”

“No.” I pressed against him as he tried to step onto the stair I was on. “It’s all good. I wasn’t supposed to work here in the first place, remember?” I stroked his biceps and felt his erection grow against my stomach.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” I arched into his hardness.

He drew a long breath, his chest expanding against me. “You too sore for…” His fingers trailed down to my lower back.

“Only one way to find out.” I grinned. “Where?”

“Men’s room,” he whispered deep in my ear. “Just give me two minutes to make sure it’s been cleaned.”

My insides clenched as he walked across the club floor. Sore or not, every part of me wanted more Nick.