Chapter 8

Finn

As a stripper Macey was hot and fuckable. As a woman wearing little-to-no makeup, with her hair down and dressed presentably, she’s someone you take to bed and worship. I think I like stripper Macey better because this Macey is putting stupid romantic thoughts in my head that I don’t want there.

I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts pure, at least for right now. Once we’re back there will be no controlling them. I look around my house as we walk toward the door and mentally count the places where we can fuck. The options are limitless, but the must-have spots are definitely the balcony, couch, office, shower and on and on.

When I glance at the couch and imagine her riding my cock, I gasp and she hears it, pulling up short. The look of fear is in her eyes as she tears her gaze from me and immediately stares down at her dress. Her hands run over the front, and her body twists to look at her backside.

“Is there something wrong?”

Yes, you’re a walking fucking sin that I want to commit repeatedly. “No, everything is fine.”

“You made a sound.”

And I plan to make a lot more tonight. “You’re a beautiful woman, Macey, and you dress up very nicely. Shall we?” I motion toward the door and she falls in step beside me. With the wide hallway, I’m able to keep my space, but once we’re inside the tight quarters of the elevator, there is nothing preventing me from breathing in her scent. The stench of Stripperville is gone and replaced by coconut and what I’d call summer. It’s the only way I can describe what I smell right now. Standing next to her I have the urge to go lie by the pool sipping fruity cocktails and putting lotion all over her body.

“Where are we going?”

“First, shopping and then we’re having dinner with my friends.”

“Your friends?” she questions.

“Is that a problem?” I glance at her, only to find apprehension. Her fingers are knotting together and her eyes are focused on the floor.

“No, I mean if they’ve seen me strip they’ll figure it out quickly.”

“I doubt it.”

We exit the elevator and make our way through the hotel, until it opens up into the mall. Most of the stores are about to close so I take her to a boutique that can outfit her with everything she needs. On our way, I pull out my cell and call ahead to let the manager know that I’m coming in and what exactly we’re looking for.

“Everyone is closing.”

“So it seems,” I say, thinking I need to encourage her to look me up on the Web so she can see how powerful I am in Vegas. I’m not the type of casino owner who hides in their mansion. I mingle with everyone. I attend all the functions and donate when asked. I’m making a name for myself here.

“Mr. McCormick, it’s so great to see you.” The manager of the boutique greets me with a kiss on both cheeks. “And who do we have here?”

“Macey Webster,” I say, before Macey can answer for herself. At the club she went by Catalina, it’s cute, but my fear is that she’ll let her stage name slip.

“Hi, Ms. Webster, I’m Carlotta. Let’s get started.”

Macey looks back at me with fear in her eyes, I shrug and wave as Carlotta pulls her away. Another associate approaches and shows me where I can sit and offers me a drink.

Carlotta forces Macey to come out and show me each outfit she tries on. I can see in her eyes that modeling her outfits is not something she wants to do, but Carlotta is old-fashioned that way, I suppose. I’ve seen everything she dresses Macey in from slacks, jeans and dresses to formal gowns and nighties, and I truly like those the best.

“Do you like the clothes here?”

She sits down, taking a break. I grab the bottle of water that is being offered to her before she can and twist the top for her.

“They’re expensive.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

The eye roll is subtle as she turns her gaze toward the mirrors that line the wall. “I love them.”

“Perfect.”

“What did you choose for me?”

Her question catches me off guard. “Excuse me?”

Macey waves her hand out. “All of this, you set it up, so I’m asking which outfits you chose for me.”

I finish off my own water and wish I had something stronger. “It’s not like that, Macey. If you like something, get it. I don’t own you and you can walk away now with no questions asked.”

“Except I’m only yours?” I don’t miss the way she draws out yours while trying to avoid eye contact with me.

Leaning in, I tug her earlobe before whispering, “Yes, you’re mine. I will not share, Macey, but I also refuse to humiliate you. It’s a mutual understanding between friends. You do for me and I do for you.”

“So we’re friends?” she asks, as she breathes in.

I sit back, but stay close to her. “Of course.”

“We hardly know each other.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say we hardly know each other.” Her words are matter-of-fact, making me wonder if she’s the same girl I slept with at the party. I size her up and down, solid in my memory that she’s the same person.

“Tonight that will change.”

Her mouth drops open and before she can fire off a witty response, Carlotta is back and whisking Macey away. While she’s changing into her next round of clothes I fire off a text to the guys, letting them know that I’m bringing someone to dinner. My phone chimes back with a text from Brady.

I don’t want to hang with my sister tonight.

I scoff at the idea that I’d bring her along. Outside of college, Brandy and I have never dated socially. Yes, she’s my plus one for a lot of events, but that’s where the night ends, much to her displeasure.

Not Brandy, I respond before pocketing my phone. The fashion show continues, but this time Carlotta has added some spice to the wardrobe. When Macey walks out in a black bra and panty set, complete with stockings and a garter, my cock stirs.

She stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, waiting for my approval. Little does she know that everything she’s come out in has turned me on. I motion for her to spin, and she does, slowly. When her backside is facing me, she cocks her head to the side to see if I’m looking at her. Boy, am I ever.

“I like it.” This is the first time I’ve given her verbal approval of anything and it doesn’t escape her notice that I’ve commented only on the first piece of lingerie she’s shown me.

Macey turns with a huff, marching back to the dressing room. I can hear Carlotta commenting on her beauty and that’s something I can wholeheartedly agree with. The worn-out and tired woman I saw earlier this afternoon looks nothing like the one who is modeling for me now. Sure, she’s still tired, but there’s a different spark in her eye. I have no doubt she’s going to test me, give me a run for my money, but it’s going to be worth it.

She reappears in the dress that she arrived in, with Carlotta behind her.

“Are we all set?” I ask, standing to meet Macey. She keeps her distance and avoids looking at me.

“We are, Mr. McCormick. Shall I send these to your penthouse?”

“Yes, please.”

I place my hand on Macey’s back, the spot that I will be holding on to later when I’m buried deep inside her, and direct her out of the store and back through the almost empty mall.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“You’re welcome. Did you get everything you need?”

“I think so.”

“Well, if not, you can pick up whatever else you need tomorrow.”

We continue out of the mall and across the street, walking until we arrive at the Cosmopolitan. The doorman greets me by name and I hear Macey mutter something unintelligible.

“Mr. McCormick,” the host says when I walk in. The line to get into Estiatorio Milos is long and I hear people grumble as we pass.

“I’m meeting some friends,” I tell him as I guide Macey into the restaurant, spotting the guys easily. I point in their direction so Macey knows where we’re heading. They all stand to greet us, which is something they’d never do if I were alone.

“Seth, Cory and Brady, this is Macey, an old friend from home.”

Macey takes the time to shake each of their hands, but it’s Brady who lingers too long. When he catches my eye and smirks I know what’s going through his mind without hearing the words. He finds her attractive. What he doesn’t know is that she’s completely off-limits.

When he slides into the booth to sit next to her, my hands clench at my sides and my teeth grind together. He’s sitting a little too close for comfort and I don’t like it. Nor do I like the way they’re looking at each other.

As soon as I sit down, my fingers are pulling the fabric of her dress up until her thigh is exposed. This doesn’t draw her attention away from what Brady is saying to her, which angers me slightly. She’s supposed to be focusing on me, not him. Call me a stingy fucker, but for the amount I’m paying her to be at my beck and call, she should be saddled up tight against me.

I place my palm on her leg and let my pinky inch closer to her pussy. She closes her legs, causing me to laugh. When she looks over, her cheeks are on fire and she’s glaring. I’m not sure why and I don’t really care.

Leaning in, I whisper, “It’ll be easier for me to finger you if you’re sitting next to me, that is unless you want my friends to know what I’m doing. You never know, they might want a turn.”

She gasps and moves closer. It’s a low blow, but had to be done. And until I said the words to her I never had any intention of touching her inappropriately in public, but maybe I should. Maybe that would excite her, get her to open up a bit. I can’t imagine this situation is ideal and had she not lost the insane amount of money she did earlier, she wouldn’t be here.

The waitress appears with our menus and asks for our drink orders. “What do you want to drink?”

Macey leans closer. “I don’t know. This place is fancy and I usually drink beer.”

I can see Macey in jeans and a tank, chugging down a beer, and I like that about her.

“May I order for you?”

She nods, giving me the green light to tell the waitress that we’ll have a bottle of their cabernet. I thought about liquor, but once dinner is done, Macey and I are going back to the penthouse, while the guys are hitting the scene. I had every intention of taking her out tonight, but not with the way Brady is eye fucking her.

“Um…”

“What’s wrong?”

She closes the menu and places her hands in her lap. “I don’t like seafood.”

That is probably something I should’ve asked before agreeing to meet the guys for dinner. I pull her close and place my lips right below her ear, nuzzling her longer than I should.

“They have a filet, it’s delicious.”

She nods and when the waitress returns, Macey lets me order for her again. I rather like that about her, at least right now. I’m sure she’ll change her tune in a few days when she’s comfortable and her mouth is back to working.

Placing my arm around her, my free hand pulls her leg until she’s closer to me. I like the feel of her nestled into my body. When she doesn’t initiate contact, I do it for her, placing her hand right on my dick. Ever since we left my place I’ve been fluctuating between hard and semi-hard, and being this close to her is only making things…harder.

I jump slightly when she squeezes, earning a small chuckle out of her. Thankfully, she slides her hand far enough down, but still able to graze my dick whenever she feels like it.

“You and I are going to have some fun tonight,” I say, winking at her.

“So I’ve been told.”

Our wine is poured and as I take my drink, Brady asks the question that I never thought of having an answer to. “Macey, what do you do for work?”

Wine sprays out of my mouth and onto the table, some of it landing on Seth and his shirt. Thankfully, it’s not white. Back when we were old enough to start clubbing he’d wear white so he could stand out against the lights. It was the douchiest thing ever and I’ve never let him live it down.

“Sorry, man.”

“You’re such a fucker.”

“Ignore them, Macey. They’re children,” Brady says, pissing me off.

“I’m a dancer,” she says as if it’s no big deal. I wait for the guys to put two and two together, but it doesn’t happen. If she had shown up in her short-ass dress with her tits hanging out, they’d be asking for a table dance right now.

“Classical or modern.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” I say to Brady, who shrugs. “Did you check your man card at the door, man?”

“What? I’m only trying to find out what type of dancing.”

“Right,” I say, finishing my glass of wine. “She’s a fucking gymnast too so that answers your flexibility question.”

He puts his hands up and sits back, calling a truce. I suppose Macey and I should’ve gone over some specifics before we showed up, but I honestly didn’t expect any of the guys to pay much attention to her.

I was so fucking wrong.