17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Thirty Minutes Earlier
I stood in the corner of the club, shrouded in the shadows as I sucked an ice cube from the glass and chewed it, allowing the tiny shards to cool my tongue.
The cocktail waitress approached. “Hey, can I get you another,” she glanced at the glass in my hand and then back up at me, “water? Or something stronger?”
“Another water. I’m driving.” I handed her a ten-dollar bill and told her to keep the change, my eyes never wavering from the dance floor.
She returned a couple minutes later, took my empty, and handed me a fresh glass.
Mallori was dancing with the mousy girl, but an occasional glance at the table where she’d been sitting confirmed that the douchey guy was still staring at her. He’d been staring at her all fucking night.
What the fuck has gotten into you, Hawk? Following your roommate to a club like some kind of stalker?
I justified it by telling myself I was like a big brother looking out for his little sister . The only problem? The thoughts I was having about Mallori’s body as she dipped and moved her hips was not very fucking brotherly .
She was wearing black denim shorts and a white crop top that showed a couple inches of belly and back skin. She was as natural dancing in a club as she was in front of the mirrors in the workout room. She had an innate rhythm that made every bump and grind look graceful.
I noticed the other eyes on her too. Men in groups who were whispering to each other, their eyes following her movements, probably trying to get up the nerve to go talk to her. Pussies.
Like you’re any better, asshole. Hiding in the corner like a goddamn creep.
My sharp gaze tracked her back to the table, and Scott Ponder—I knew exactly who he was from the background check Cam and I had run—made room for her to sit. Because of course the little prick did.
Scott Ponder, only child of federal judge Harrison Ponder, had been trouble as a teenager. He had seven—yes, seven —tickets for minor in possession of alcohol between the ages of fourteen and seventeen. Exactly zero of them showed up on his record, no doubt because daddy dearest had handled it.
Well, the tickets didn’t show up on his official record, the one the school would have had access to during a routine background check, but we found them. It’s what we do.
The rest of the party had checked out fine. That Megan chick had never even had so much as a parking ticket.
I stewed watching Ponder put his arm around Mallori. Her face told me she wasn’t happy about it, and I had just straightened, about to stupidly break my cover, when she shrugged away and stood. Relief blew from my lips in a long stream of air.
Mal seemed perfectly capable of handling herself. Twice I’d watched when she had slyly dumped two shots of whatever liquor they were ordering into the potted plant beside her when no one was looking.
She was out for a night of fun, but she wasn’t trying to get sloshed, and that made me happy. I wasn’t sure why I even cared. I’d only known Little Bee for two weeks.
Then what the hell are you doing here, Hawk?
Fuck if I know.
My gaze trailed the girls as they headed to the bathroom at the same time I sensed someone approaching me. Female. Red hair. Short dress.
“Hi, handsome. Do—”
I didn’t even glance at her.
“No.” The force of my single word had her stumbling back before retreating in haste. I was aware of how stupid I was being. I should have taken the redhead home and fucked her brains out to distract myself from my newly found stalker tendencies.
I needed a good “distraction.” I hadn’t fucked anything except my hand in a while, and that was most likely the cause of my current state of insanity.
Mallori and Megan appeared once again with the other girl, Lauren, beside them. The dark-haired one peeled off and returned to the dance floor as the other two made their way to the front door of the club .
Slipping out the side door, I rounded the building in time to hear Mal tell the driver they were dropping off her friend on the way. I jumped in my truck and drove home, immediately going to my bedroom to change into lounge pants and a black T-shirt.
Just about the time I settled onto the couch, doing my best to look like I’d been here impersonating a couch potato all evening, I heard a key in the lock. The door swung open and then slammed shut behind a very angry Little Bee.
“Fucking crazy ass!” she ranted, apparently not noticing me at first as she tossed her purse on the side table and stomped into the living room. “Fucking stalking me like that. What the actual fuck?”
I panicked. She knows. Christ, she’s going to hate me.
Mallori Fitz was simply glorious when she was mad. She had curled her hair earlier and pulled part of it up into a cute top knot. The rest swirled around her small frame like blonde flames as she stamped her foot and swished her hands wildly through the air, still muttering curse words.
“Mal?”
Her narrowed eyes zeroed in on me, and she marched toward me, her heeled sandals slapping against the floor. Planting her hands on her hips, she glared down at me.
Holy fuck.
As soon as I opened my mouth to explain—though I had absolutely no good explanation for my behavior—she threw her phone at me, and I caught it. “Do you know how to find a tracking app on a phone?”
Huh ?
I was momentarily confused. I hadn’t put anything on her phone. She’d been talking to one of the other girls before she left, and I’d overheard her saying they were meeting at a club called Velvet Paradise. That was how I knew where to find her.
“Uh, yeah. I can do that.”
She pointed a finger at the device in my hand. “Find it and get it the fuck off my phone.”
I’d never heard her cuss like that, and I would have been amused if my nerves weren’t on high alert. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Bee?”
“My. Mother,” she ground out through gritted teeth.
Ahh . That was all I needed to hear. Karen had put a tracking app on her daughter’s phone to keep up with her. Mal had every right to be pissed.
Yeah, because stalking is wrong, dipshit.
Guilt flooded through me as I located the hidden app, and I patted the seat beside me so she could see what I was looking at. Her skin was practically sizzling with ire when she flopped down and leaned against my upper arm.
“See? She had it hidden in a folder within a folder, and it has a name that doesn’t raise suspicion,” I explained, pointing to the generic icon labeled System Maintenance . “She probably looked up how to do it on the internet.”
“Well that’s just bullshit,” she snapped. “I’m not a teenager that needs to be monitored. Can you get rid of it?”
“Of course.” I deleted the app and handed her phone back.
“That’s it? ”
“That’s it,” I confirmed, and the scowl lines on her forehead relaxed and then disappeared completely. The sweetest smile ever appeared, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek. She smelled like sugar with a hint of liquor.
“Thank you, Hawk. You’re such a good friend.”
No, I’m really not.
“What do you mean?” she asked, and I realized I’d said that out loud.
“I went to Velvet Paradise tonight,” I blurted, watching as confusion painted her irises with a touch more green than usual. “I heard you say you were going there, and… I went too.”
Her head tilted to the side, those blonde locks brushing her bare arm. “Why didn’t you come say hi?”
“I didn’t want to bother you. You were out with your friends.”
Mallori’s lips twisted to the side, and she looked up toward the corner of the room, her mind processing before she dragged her gaze back to mine. My every inclination was to look away in shame, but I didn’t. I held steady, as uncomfortable as it made me to do so.
“You were checking up on me.”
“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Because you don’t think I can take care of myself or because you really care about me?”
My molars gnawed the inside of my cheek, and I finally mumbled, “The second one. I think you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself, Little Bee. I don’t trust that Scott fucker though. He’s had a problem with alcohol in the past. Cam and I told you about that.”
“So why did you go there tonight? ”
Why indeed? I wasn’t sure if I truly knew the answer to that, so I gave her the only explanation that made sense to my addled brain.
“I guess I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me.”
“Hawk…” Her voice was softer, understanding curling around my name as it left her pretty mouth. And I’ll be damned if I didn’t want to hear it again. In an entirely different setting. Fuck.
Mallori’s rested her small hand on my jaw, her skin warming me even through my beard. “That was really sweet of you, but you do know I have a cell phone and could call you, right? If I needed you?”
A chagrined smile curved my lips upward, and her eyes dropped there for a brief second. “You can call me any time, Little Bee. And…” I prepared myself mentally to say the words I didn’t utter very often. “I’m sorry. I was being overprotective, and I went too far. It won’t happen again.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re not going to put a tracker on my phone or anything, are you?”
My laugh was a quick bark of surprise. “No, I won’t do anything that intrusive.”
“Then you’re not nearly as good a stalker as my mother,” she quipped before shocking me further. Her arms went around my neck, and she hugged me. “Thank you for being honest with me, Hawk.”
I closed my eyes and returned the embrace, inhaling the sugary scent of her body wash. Maybe a hint of vanilla in there too. It was sultry without trying to be.
The steady beat of her heart thumped against my arm, and I knew I needed to do something about these weird thoughts rambling around in my head. These thoughts of possession .
First opportunity I got, I needed to go out. I needed to prowl like the predator my nickname implied. Find a willing woman and fuck this nonsense out of my head.
That opportunity came the next Friday. Mallori informed me she was going out with some friends and that she’d be home late. She also promised that she would call me if she needed anything.
I’d reluctantly admitted to myself that I found my roommate exceedingly attractive, but I knew nothing was going to happen. Ever.
And to put it bluntly, I was horny. That’s how I found myself sitting in Exodus, a nightclub in downtown Dallas. It was a smallish joint that was known to cater to people with my particular… tastes.
It wasn’t a sex club. There weren’t rooms upstairs or sex out in the open. Exodus had simply become a place where a certain type of woman seemed to gravitate. Which brought the men who liked that type of woman.
At the mainstream clubs, like the one I’d followed Mallori to last weekend, it was a grab bag as far as pickups went. To quote Forrest Gump: You never know what you’re gonna get.
In my early twenties, I had been much less discriminating when it came to my sex life. In other words, I’d fucked any woman who was willing, but I’d often found myself less than satisfied after an encounter. Sometimes I’d get lucky and take home a woman who loved being dominated as much as I enjoyed doing it, but you never knew until you got things going.
That’s when I came up with my system .
Before I would take a woman home with me, I’d make them perform some kind of little task to see if they were suitable to my needs. To see if they would follow my directions without question.
For example, a few months ago, I’d demanded one woman finger-fuck herself to orgasm at the table filled with her friends without anyone knowing what she was doing. As I’d watched from the next table, she’d done exactly that, eyes locked with mine while everyone chatted around her. I knew the instant it happened from her body language and the flush rising up her neck.
And Charli still teased me about the time I’d made one of those twins keep her hand on my dick at all times as we moved through the club Flame.
Both of those tests had resulted in a very good night in the Den of Sin—for all parties involved. I craved control in my encounters. No, I needed it.
Although what I required even more than control was respect . That was the ultimate turn on for me… a woman willing to do anything I asked of her.
Did that make me an arrogant son of a bitch? Most likely, but I was fulfilling my needs the best way I knew how.
I didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell me that my requirement for respect stemmed from the things that had happened when I was a teenager. I also didn’t need a shrink to tell me I was fucked in the head.
I. Was. Aware.
A friend once asked why I didn’t use a prostitute to quench my darker desires. Ultimately, I knew it wouldn’t have the same effect on me if I was paying the woman to do my bidding. I wanted to earn their respect by giving them more pleasure than they knew what to do with.
So I paid women with the currency I was best at. Orgasms.
Someone approached my corner table, her eyes downcast before peeking up at me. She was a stunner. Killer body. Gorgeous face.
But the woman had a needy look, the kind that told me she was a true submissive in all things. The type that wanted you to tell her what she could and couldn’t wear or what she should eat. The type that wanted a full time Dom. Sorry, honey. You’re barking up the wrong tree.
I had neither the time nor the inclination to put in that much effort. All I wanted was a one-night-stand with a woman who would let me fuck her nine ways from Sunday.
Plus, this woman had dark hair, and I was in the mood for a blonde tonight. Was I touching the whys of that can of worms with a forty-foot pole? Fuck no, I wasn’t.
“I’m Kirsten,” she said, stopping in front of me.
“Hi, honey. I’m waiting on someone,” I fibbed, and she gave me a disappointed smile before retreating.
A few minutes later, a familiar face caught my eye from across the room. I was pretty sure I’d been with the blonde before, and I searched my memory bank. When she caught me looking and smiled, it all came flooding back. Her hands tied to my headboard. Her pretty face twisted in the agony of pleasure.
Yep, she’d definitely been in the Den before… about a year ago, if I was remembering correctly. I jerked my chin, and she immediately began wending her lithe body through the crowd, the lights flashing down on her and turning her blonde hair intermittently blue .
As soon as she reached me, I spread my legs and patted my thigh in invitation, and she lowered herself to my lap, curling one hand around the back of my neck.
There was no need to “test” this one; I knew she could give me exactly what I wanted. Her unquestioning submission in all things sexual with no other expectations.
“Hi, Hawk,” she purred, toying with the hair at my nape. I couldn’t remember her name, but I thought it started with a K. When I didn’t respond, she reminded me. “I’m Katya.”
“Good to see you again. You here with anyone?”
“No, I’m alone.” And available , her blue eyes told me.
Katya’s platinum-blonde hair was pulled up into a high, sleek ponytail, and I wrapped it slowly, deliberately, around my fist, my dark eyes locked with hers as my movements elicited a low groan from her slim throat. A throat I had fucked on and off for an hour last time.
I lifted a hand to cup the smooth line of her neck and squeezed at the same time I yanked her hair with a rough tug. Her eyes rolled back, her hips rocking against my thick thigh. She loved this shit.
My hand slid up to grip her jaw, my thumb toying with her full bottom lip. She dropped it open, allowing me the access I desired, and I took it, pushing my thumb into her mouth. Katya sucked me voraciously, her eyes never leaving mine as her long-fingered hands wrapped around my wrist.
A wet, velvet tongue stroked the pad of my digit, and I watched as her cherry-red lipstick streaked my skin. So damn hot. I continued fucking her mouth, spreading the fingers of my other hand against the back of her head to hold her in place .
Allowing my eyes to roam, I took in Katya’s skin-tight black bandage dress with her breasts spilling out the top. They were obviously fake as hell, but it didn’t bother me. I wasn’t a titty snob.
Another blonde—this one with aqua eyes and small tits—popped into the forefront of my brain, but I gritted my teeth and dismissed the image. Something weird flooded my system. Was that guilt?
It confused me, angered me. I had nothing to feel guilty about. I was a single man with needs. Needs that would not be fulfilled by Cam’s young cousin.
The mere thought of my friend solidified my decision, and I pulled my thumb from Katya’s mouth, dragging a trail of saliva and lipstick down her chin.
With disheveled hair and ruined makeup, the woman looked like a fucking mess. Which was exactly how I liked it.
Yanking her forward, I bit her earlobe—hard—and rasped, “You want to get out of here?”
Katya’s simple response was coated in lust. “Yes.” Nuzzling her cheek against my beard, she whispered, “I was with someone for a while.”
I pulled back and looked at her. “Is it going to be a problem?” I may have been a selfish prick, but I wouldn’t fuck another man’s woman.
“No, he’s moved away now, but…”
She hesitated, and I dipped my eyebrows low over my eye sockets. “What is it?”
“I’ve… unlocked a new kink.”
“What is it?” I repeated, and she leaned forward to speak her darkest desire directly against my ear. My eyebrows lifted. It wasn’t exactly my jam, but I wasn’t averse to it either. “I can do that,” I assured her .
We rose, and I wrapped my fingers around the back of her neck to guide her from the club.
And the Den of Sin is once again open for business.