-3-
Grant
A startled, pleased smile warmed the redhead’s face. She glanced down and threaded her fingers through a lock of the blonde girl’s hair, playing with the glossy strands fanned out on the table.
“What do you think?” she said softly. “Do you accept?”
The girl’s lush lips parted, and the single word was uttered on a breath. “Yes.”
A jolt of electricity washed through me. Was it from finally hearing her voice? Or the power she’d just given to me by agreeing to my offer? In the end, it didn’t really matter. As soon as the deal was done, my anxiety and guilt vanished. She could have said no, but she hadn’t.
The saleswoman stalked toward the exit on her heels. “Enjoy your evening.”
When the door clicked closed behind her, the only sound in the room was the ice tinkling in my glass and the rush of blood pounding in my head. I stared at the girl, lingering over every curve. She was so gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.
But what happened now? I took another long sip of my drink. Maybe the subtle burn of the alcohol would clear my thoughts and give me a better plan. Or any plan.
She squirmed for a half-second, and her face contorted. It put me on alert. “What’s wrong?”
She snagged her bottom lip in her teeth and looked embarrassed. “Nothing. It’s, uh . . . nothing.”
All her answer did was make my stomach turn. Maybe she didn’t want me after all—
I took two steps toward the door before she blurted it in a rush, “So, this is really stupid, and not at all sexy, but I have a mosquito bite on my ankle.”
I blinked, unsure what to do with the information.
“It itches like crazy,” she admitted. To help explain her situation, she moved her arms, pulling against the black straps restraining her. Instantly, the basic voice in my head responded. Help her scratch her itch, and she can help you with yours.
“Which ankle?” I asked, moving back to the side of the table. “You want me to untie you?”
“Only if you want to, sir.” She wiggled her toes on her right foot, and the glossy red nail polish glinted in the light.
Technically, I didn’t need one, but it gave me an excuse to touch her, so I set my glass down beside her knee and peered at her long legs. A faint, pink bump lifted from her skin just above her anklebone.
“I’m told,” I said, “they always go for the ankles. Some people are more appealing to mosquitos than others. I’m a lucky one who doesn’t get bit much.”
Which was great because rugby was played and practiced outdoors. The mosquitos weren’t as bad here as they had been in Johannesburg, but I wasn’t immune and had gotten my fair share.
I brushed my fingertips over her raised skin, giving her a startle, but she shifted against my touch as if needing more. When I ran the edge of my fingernails over the bite, her lips parted on a soft sigh.
She’d said it wasn’t sexy, but she’d been wrong. Giving her relief was nearly the same as pleasure. Would her reaction be similar if I did?
“I guess I’m a delicious one,” she said.
Fuck me. I already knew it was true, but I wished I could confirm it. Press my lips to hers and taste her kiss. Was I allowed to? There wasn’t anything on the board about it.
Wait. I needed to focus. It’d be impossible for her to answer questions if I was kissing her, and worse—I was certain once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I drew my hand away.
“Thank you.” Her voice had an edge of strain, like I’d stopped without giving her full satisfaction.
“Do you like this?” I said abruptly. “Working here?”
“It’s whatever you want. If you don’t want me to like it, sir, I won’t.”
I tensed. “No, sorry. I meant it as a question. I’m curious.”
Even with the blindfold covering half her face, I could tell she was unsure how to answer. And why shouldn’t she be? What was the upside to saying the truth if the answer was no?
I couldn’t tell if it was genuine from her flat tone. “Yes, sir.”
“Forget I asked.” I snatched up my drink and finished it.
In the awkward silence, she moved. She brought her ankles together and ran the side of her foot against the bug bite.
“It’s going to keep itching unless you leave it alone,” I said lightly. I wrapped my palm around her ankle and held her still.
“Oh,” she gasped as I pressed the cold side of my glass against the bug bite. It wasn’t going to be enough to numb the nerves, though, so I put the glass down, dug out an ice cube with my fingers, and set the flat edge against her irritated skin.
She gave a quiet hiss, but there was a faint moan tacked onto the end of it. If someone were to come in right now, it’d look like I was teasing her with ice. I flashed on the idea of dragging the ice cube slowly along her inseam, and lust swamped me. I rolled the melting ice in tiny circles over the spot.
My voice was tight. “Does it still itch?”
“No, sir.”
Cold water pooled against her skin before dripping down, and like the slider of a Ouija board, the ice cube moved beneath my touch, guided by an invisible force. It left a glistening path as it trailed up her leg.
Her chest rose and fell with her hurried breaths as I skimmed along, up the side of her thigh, following the same route I’d taken earlier.
“I haven’t done sensory play in a while.” She sounded excited, even as she squirmed under the cold edge knifing across her bare skin. Like she both did and didn’t enjoy it.
I’d never done it before. Was I supposed to say that? Even though I was paying for it, I didn’t want her to think I was clueless. I took a detour around her thigh, skirting the edge of her pussy, and dragged the ice cube up over her belly.
Her nipples were already tight and pointed, and I slid the ice over one, then the other, drawing glistening lines across her skin. Her swallow was audible. Her chest heaved. Everything about her response said she was into it. If she liked the cold, would she like heat too? I went in for the kill. I leaned down and swiped the tip of my tongue over one distended nipple.
Her moan was just louder than her hard swallow had been, but her hips shifted, creaking against the leather cushion. She’d brought her knees together, clamping down on her pleasure.
I’d given her just a hint, but now I latched my mouth on her and sucked. Hard.
“Oh.” Her soft word was heavy with satisfaction.
My blood heated, boiling through my body. “You like that?”
“Mmm. I do.”
Down the ice cube went, faster this time as it slalomed over her curves, racing toward the center of her legs. Her quick breath cut off as I closed in, and it looked like every muscle in her tensed in anticipation of the cold sliding over the hottest part of her.
She flinched and jolted, knocking the ice from my grasp, but I was fine with abandoning the melting cube, because I replaced it with my tongue.
She bowed up, arching her tits into the air, crying out in surprise. Or perhaps enjoyment. I braced my hands on the inside of her thighs and spread her wider, settling in. Whatever plans I’d tried to make, they were pointless. Going down on this beautiful stranger was all I wanted to do.
Morgan’s betrayal made me feel inadequate, but I wasn’t, and I was desperate to reaffirm it. My curious nature meant I was good at learning new things, and that included in the bedroom.
I flicked my tongue over her, rolling and massaging, and smiled to myself as she quivered. The question was rhetorical, but I asked it anyway. “You like that?”
“Fuck, I do.” She moved against my lips, an active participant.
I spun a cartwheel with the tip of my tongue against her clit, and her thighs shook. Above me, she drew in deep gasps of air, strangling back louder moans. It would have been sexy no matter what, but here in this club and with our illicit deal, it made the act incendiary.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Her shuddering was more pronounced as I picked up my intensity—
A sound rang out from behind us, jarring me. Had someone just opened the door? I turned to glance over my shoulder.
The redhead was there, one hand on the doorknob and a somber expression fixed on her face. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but can you join me in the hall? This will only take a minute.”
I wasn’t just embarrassed to be caught, my bones turned to lead. I straightened and ran my palm over my face as I cast a final look at the girl panting before me. I’d taken her right to the edge and now was going to leave her there.
Unless what the redhead said was true and I’d be back in a moment. Was there any chance the issue wasn’t with me? Doubtful. As I shuffled toward the doorway, the redhead’s expression was plain, but her eyes were sharp and angry.
There were two men waiting for me in the hall, Julius and the enormous bouncer who’d buzzed me in. Their faces were full of contempt.
Despite the frosty atmosphere, I was able to sound easygoing. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, Mr. Kruger,” Julius said. “We’ve got a problem.”
A cold sweat broke out down my spine. He’d used my real name. “I can explain,” I started.
But he put his hand on my shoulder. The gesture might have seemed strangely friendly, but it wasn’t. First, his hand weighed a hundred pounds. Second, it was right beside my neck, and I was very aware of the proximity. His hand clamped on me was a power move, letting me know he was in control.
His tone was firm. “I don’t care why you lied. You need to understand what’s going to happen now.”
My heart banged in my chest, and I tightened my teeth together so hard, my jaw ached.
The redhead slid up beside him, her guarded gaze on me. “We know you work for Channel Five, and you came here to get a story.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But you got distracted by what was on the table, didn’t you?”
“You knew who I was?”
Julius’s hand tensed, his fingers digging into my muscle, and I fought the urge to wince. I couldn’t blame him. My thoughtless question reinforced how I’d tried to deceive.
“We’re a private club,” he said, “with clients who like their privacy.”
“Do you think you’re the first reporter to come along?” she asked.
“What’s that phrase?” Julius’s deep voice brimmed with threat. “Catch and kill.”
Fucking fuck. I stopped breathing, and when I tried to take a step back, his grip on my shoulder reminded me I wasn’t going anywhere.
“This club, and the people here, are important to me. I’m going to protect them with all I got. You feel me?” He slid his free hand into the interior pocket of his suit coat, pulled out my phone, and shoved it painfully into my chest. “You don’t come here again. You don’t even think about this club again. You so much as say its name, and a copy of the video we took tonight is gonna wind up with someone you don’t want it to.”
“Like your boss,” the redhead added. “Or the Chicago police department.”
His expression went dark, and if I were a smaller guy, I might have shit myself. “Or maybe one of the clients here who isn’t as nice as I am. We understand each other?”
I eagerly took my phone and jammed it in my pocket. “Yes.”
Julius looked barely satisfied. “Good. Then, get the fuck outta my club.”