16. Torren
16
TORREN
PRESENT DAY
I knock on the suite door at ten on the dot.
It’s Mabel who lets me in. I glance around the main room, but I only find Red, Sav’s personal security, sitting on the couch with Ziggy on his lap.
“You working late?”
Red looks up from his phone as if he’s just noticed me, but I know he was probably watching the live stream of this floor’s security camera. He knew I was on the way the moment I stepped into the hallway.
“I’m working always,” he says gruffly, then goes back to his phone.
Red takes Sav’s security seriously, and he has since she brought him on a few years ago. I didn’t stop to think about how much this stalker bullshit must be stressing him out, too. He barely took days off as it was. Now? I bet Sav has to force him to sleep.
“Savvy is in her room video-chatting with Levi and Brynn. But Callie will be right out.”
I open my mouth to tell Mabel thank you, but I snap it shut again when Callie’s bedroom door opens, and she steps out into the main room. When she sees me, she stops in her tracks and eyes me warily. She worries that plump lower lip, making the dark red lipstick glisten, and I zero in on it before I let my eyes roam the rest of her body.
I tell myself I’m doing it to get into character. We’ve got to go out and put on a show. I might as well start now. That’s what I tell myself. I choose to ignore the fact that I couldn’t look away from her even if I wanted to.
Callie’s wearing a green minidress with cut-outs on either side, exposing her soft, pale skin. It fits her like it was painted on. The neckline sinks low, showing off cleavage that makes my mouth water, and the hemline stops just below her ass cheeks. The way she looks in that dress makes me want to bend her over every flat surface just to make her scream my name.
She looks good. Better than good. She looks gorgeous. Sexy. The kind of sexy that could cause me serious problems if I’m not careful.
I fist my hands and breathe through the onslaught of lust until it ebbs, becoming more manageable. Easier to ignore.
“Damn, girl. You look hot,” Mabel says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah? I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
“It looks great on you. Hot as fuck.”
Callie laughs nervously. “Well, thanks.”
I clear my throat, drawing her eyes back to me. I don’t miss the sparkle of excitement there.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, and she jerks out a nod.
“Yep.”
Mabel sends me a glare that I read clearly— stop being such a dick —so I narrow my eyes at her and force a smile before looking back at Callie.
“This way.”
I turn and walk out, and she follows.
Once in the hallway, I offer Callie my hand. She takes it without hesitation.
“Good,” I whisper to her, and she glances up at me with a flirty smile.
“Of course. Got to sell it, right?”
Her words are said sweetly, but her eyes flash with anger, and I don’t bother hiding my grin when I respond.
“Exactly.”
I can let myself have fun with this for tonight. Like she said. We have to sell it.
We take the elevator in silence to the first floor, then I put my arm around her, tugging her into my side for the walk through the lobby to the valet who has my sports car. The hotel and its employees are discreet, but the lobby bar is full of people, and those people need to see the act.
I open my car door for her and help her in before sliding into the driver’s side with our security details following in a car behind us, then I speed out of the drive and head to the club.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” I ask Callie, and she rolls her eyes.
“If I wasn’t?”
“We turn around, and you can go home.”
She shakes her head with a frown. “No. I’m ready.”
I pull my car into the club’s valet line, and just before I put it in park to climb out and hand the keys to the valet, I turn to her.
“Showtime?”
She takes a deep breath, then smiles. “Showtime.”
We walk past the line and go straight through the VIP entrance. The moment people see us, they start calling my name. Phones are suddenly pointed in my direction, so I pull Callie closer and rest my hand just above her ass as I lead her through the club and up the stairs into the lounge, telling our security to make themselves scarce. I can tell Damon wants to object, but I shake my head. I need Callie relaxed, and that won’t happen if Damon and Craig are breathing down her neck. Besides, they may be giants, but they blend into dark corners well. One eye on us, one on the crowd, ever ready in case of trouble. We’ll be fine.
The lounge is lofted above the general admission dance floor, but it’s separated by a glass half wall with its own bar, dance floor, servers, and couches. If you don’t want to be seen, there are more private rooms in the back, but I make sure Callie and I are posted front and center. Anyone in the club can look up and see us, and that’s exactly how I want it.
“Drink?” I ask Callie, and she nods.
“Yes. A double shot of tequila. Please.”
I arch a brow. “You want to party?”
She rolls her eyes. “If I have to pretend to like you in front of all of these people, I’m going to need tequila.”
“Tequila coming up,” I say with a grin and flag over a server. Within three minutes, they’re back with our shots, and I’m taking mine and handing Callie hers. “Cheers.”
We take our shots, then trade the shot glasses for the limes on the server’s tray before finally sending him away.
“So what now, boss?” Callie wraps her arms around her midsection and flicks her eyes to the crowd below. There are people watching. There are always people watching.
“Now, you loosen up.” I erase the distance between us and slip my hands around her waist. Her breath hitches in that tempting way I’ve come to anticipate the moment I touch her, and I find it thrilling. “Put your hands on me. I’m your boyfriend. Touch me how you would touch a boyfriend.”
“In public?”
I laugh and amend my statement. “Touch me how you would touch a boyfriend in a dark club after a double shot of tequila.”
She blinks. A look of determination flashes across her face, then her lips are curling into a sexy smile. She slides her hands up my chest and hooks them around my neck, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close our faces are. Her soft breaths fan my lips.
“How tall are those heels?”
“I’m not sure. Six inches, I think.”
“I like them.”
“Yeah? I’m worried I’m going to break my ankle.”
I pull her body into mine, bringing us closer in a way that makes my heart quicken, and I lower my lips to her ear.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you upright.”
She huffs out a shaky laugh, her breath tickling my skin, and her hold tightens around my neck. I close my eyes and breathe, drenching my senses in the scent and feel of her. Once again, I’m bowled over by how much I enjoy it, and it takes all my restraint not to let go and step away. I could drown in her if I’m not careful. If I don’t work to keep my head above this tidal wave of attraction.
It’s strange how powerful physical touch can be outside of sex. It’s bewitching, taking hold of my mind and heart with only the simplest of intimate caresses.
I’ve always put more weight on that connection than there should be, attached myself to it too drastically, and it’s done nothing but cause me fucking pain. I get drunk on the flood of emotions, and I’ve let it manipulate me into believing something is more than it is. I’ve let it trick me into falling in love, and that’s exactly why I’ve not held a woman in years. I’ve not spent time with women for longer than it takes to get us both off. It might as well be another form of masturbation at this point for all the attention I pay to the women who end up at the end of my cock. I don’t kiss them. I don’t engage in conversation. I don’t remember names or faces. I don’t stay in contact, and I prefer it that way.
Hell, they prefer it that way because that way no one gets hurt. It’s strictly sex under the protection of an iron-clad non-disclosure agreement, and it’s worked for years. This is more contact than I’ve allowed myself in a long time. Warning sirens sound in my head as I register all the ways our bodies are touching, but I silence them.
This is different , I remind myself. It’s not real, it never is, and as long as I remember that, I can let myself enjoy it. I can take sips of it in small doses, stay buzzed, and avoid intoxication.
“Just close your eyes and pretend I’m someone else,” I tell her.
“Is that what you’re going to do?”
Her voice is quiet against the shell of my ear, vulnerable in a way I wish it weren’t. I want to tell her the truth, but I lie instead. I lie because it’s safer for both of us.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I let myself slip my fingers into the cut-outs on the side of her dress, absorbing her heat and reveling in the softness of her skin. Goose bumps form under my palms, and when she moves her hands into my hair, I squeeze the flesh on her sides and pull her even tighter against me.
“Dance with me, Callie.”
Slowly, I start to sway back and forth, using my hands to move her body in time with mine. It doesn’t take much before she’s moving on her own. She closes her eyes as she lets the music guide her, but I keep mine on her face. Her soft features are highlighted theatrically in the multicolored lights from the DJ, casting her in blue, purple, and red hues. She looks like a dream, and I’m captivated again by how attractive she is. Beautiful, especially when she’s not scowling at me .
Song after song, I can’t take my eyes off her. She doesn’t stop moving as each track blends into the next. When she throws her head back, her lips parting slightly as she dances, a picture flashes quickly in my mind. It’s her. What she’d look like when she comes. I can almost hear her moans. So real that it almost feels like a memory, not a fantasy, but when I try to pull it back, it fizzles into nothing.
The urge to kiss her full lips overtakes me, and on impulse, I flip her body around, tugging her back to my front. I drag my palms down her rib cage and over her hips, stopping on her pelvis. One of her hands rests atop mine while her other comes up to thread into my hair at the nape of my neck.
“Pull it,” I say into her ear, and when she does, I groan.
I push lightly on her pelvis, urging her to back farther into me, and she does. Her ass presses against my dick, and there is no hiding how sexy I find her.
She freezes, but she doesn’t move away, and I chuckle.
“Have I shocked you, Calla Lily?” I tease, eyeing the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her breasts heave against the neckline of her thin dress. When the lights flash in the brighter colors, I can just make out the outline of her hardened nipples. Fuck, just knowing I can turn her on so easily gets me high. “Are you afraid?”
She glances up at me with a frown, then arches a brow as she tightens her fist in my hair.
“I’m not.” The words are clipped, defensive, and she grinds her soft ass on my hard cock.
“Fuck,” I choke out, and her lips turn up into a taunting smirk.
Her hips move to the music in a punishing rhythm. She makes no attempt to put distance between us, and it’s torturous. I curl my fingers into the fabric of her dress, pressing into her abdomen. Keeping her close when I probably should be pushing her away. I lower my head, my lips dragging over her ear when I speak.
“Be careful,” I warn.
Her breath hitches, and I take her earlobe between my teeth and bite lightly. At the sting of pain, her grip on my hair tightens and her ass grinds harder on my dick.
“Fuck, Callie.”
The music of the club dulls, and the crowd of people fades away until all I can hear or see or feel is the woman in front of me. She’s my only focus.
I press open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin at the slope of her neck, then slip my hand into the cut-out of her dress, needing my skin on hers. Wanting to erase the clothing barrier between us. I skate down her body, burning with heat, and tease the lacy band of her underwear. She shudders and moves her hand over her dress to cover mine under it.
“I want to touch you,” I tell her. “I need to touch you. Let me.”
Her grip on my hand loosens, granting silent permission, and I slip my fingers into her underwear. The moment the pad of my middle finger presses onto her clit, she gasps and jerks backward, her ass pushing even harder against my dick.
I groan and bite her neck, pulsing my hips, reveling in the friction of my erection between her ass cheeks. Seeing my hand moving under her dress, knowing what I’m doing to her...
Fuck, if only we were naked right now.
Skin on skin.
Sweat slicked and frenzied.
The thought makes me impossibly harder, and I have to grit my teeth against the need to pull her dress up and push my aching cock into her from behind. It wouldn’t even take much. The heels make her the perfect height. A few adjustments, and I could fuck her right here.
“You’re killing me, Callie,” I say against her.
I dip my hand lower into her panties and feel her back vibrate with a groan as I swipe my fingers through her pussy lips, coating them in her wetness before moving back to her clit. I rub again, faster.
“God, what I wouldn’t give to sink into your pussy and make you come.”
She says nothing. Her head tips back and rests on my shoulder as I fold my body over her, one arm hooked around her rib cage, holding her to me, and the other snaked through her dress and into her underwear. I kiss and suck her neck, rubbing her clit and thrusting my cock against her ass. Her mouth falls open before she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, and then she starts to move on my hand.
“Torren.”
Her cry is little more than a gasp of air, but I hear it. It echoes in my head. Louder and louder, drowning out everything else as I rub her clit, needing more. I push my hand lower and slip two fingers into her, crooking them until I’m cupping her pussy. The low groan she lets out is fucking musical, and I grind the heel of my palm against her clit as I pulse my fingers in and out of her pussy.
“I would give anything for you to come right now,” I say into her ear. “I need to feel you squeeze my fingers, baby.”
She turns her head toward me, pressing her forehead against me, her lips searching for mine, but I don’t close the distance. I don’t give her what she wants. What I want, too.
“Open your eyes,” I command. “Look at me.”
When she does, I stare into her eyes, pupils dilated so only a thin ring of color remains, and then it hits me.
An impact of memories so strong, it makes me flinch.
ArtFusion. A phoenix. Body paint. My tour bus.
Firebird.
All of it, a jigsaw puzzle dumped from a box, colorful scenes scattered about in disarray inside my mind. I grasp, sorting and organizing, piecing it all out, bringing the details into focus.
And then I’m startled by a bright white light.
Callie freezes, and my eyes whip toward the flash. A server has his phone pointed at us, a look of shock on his face as he realizes the flash was on.
“Stay here,” I say to Callie, removing my hands from her body and stepping away before stalking toward the server.
The guy tries to run, but I catch him in three strides and grab the collar of his white button-down before putting my arm around his throat.
“Give it,” I growl, but he tries to fight against me.
“Get off me, man. I’ll sue you?—”
I tighten my hold. He sputters and coughs, his next threat lost on a gag.
“Give me the phone,” I repeat.
We’ve garnered the attention of a small crowd, but not a single person steps up to help this asshole. Everyone in the VIP lounge is here because they require privacy and discretion. The disgust radiating off them and toward this server is enough to make him cower, and he holds up his phone in surrender. I snatch it and shove him away, noting him stumble and fall to the ground in my periphery.
In a matter of minutes, I have the series of photos and videos he’s taken deleted from both the phone and the cloud. Then I drop the phone onto the ground and stomp on it. Once, twice, three times, until it’s smashed beyond repair.
“What the actual fuck, man! That’s fucking illegal. That’s my fucking property.”
“It’s illegal to take unauthorized photos and videos in the VIP lounge. You work here. You know that. It’s in your employment contract.” I shove past him and head toward the manager’s office. “Congratulations, asshole. You just got yourself fired and blacklisted from every exclusive club in the country.”
Before I even speak to the manager, they fire the guy and order security to remove him from the premises. I’m apologized to profusely and reassured that nothing will be leaked to the press because all employees have to sign a non-disclosure to work the VIP lounge. I’m also offered free bottle service, but I turn it down. My only concern now is to get Callie back to the hotel and finish what we started.
I stalk back into the lounge, sweeping my gaze through the crowd. No Callie. I swallow back the panic that starts to creep up my throat and turn to Damon. He’s already checking something on his phone.
“Where is she?”
“She left. Walton took her back to the hotel.”
Fuck . I close my eyes and take a deep breath. At least Craig is with her, but I can’t seem to tamp down the anger swirling in my chest. When I open my eyes and glance back at Damon, his brow is knitted, irritation mixed with a hint of guilt.
“Don’t,” I say firmly. “This isn’t on you. The only reason I got to him before you is because he was closer to me.”
It’s the truth, and I don’t want to see Damon feeling apologetic for something that wasn’t his fault. Shit like this happens. It’s a risk we take when we go out in public, but our details have been more on edge since word of Sav’s stalker was shared with the whole team.
There’s not a chance in hell now that I’ll convince Damon to give me space again. It’s probably for the best. Finger-fucking your fake girlfriend is decidedly less sexy when two gorilla-like men who could kill you in less than thirty seconds are watching you.
I stalk out of the club with Damon on my heels and get the car from the valet. I crank the music and gun it toward the hotel, trying like hell to cleanse my brain of tonight’s events.
But I can’t. Fuck, I can’t.
She was so close. So hot under my palms. She felt like she belonged there, pressed against me, panting for me. She felt like mine.
I clench my hands into fists, beating back the need expanding in my chest. I haven’t wanted someone like that in a long time, like I would combust if I didn’t touch her. I wanted to kiss her, and I don’t kiss. I haven’t in years. Not since Sav. Not since I fell in love with the wrong person and got my heart shattered. I don’t fuck with intimacy. I don’t blur lines. I don’t kiss, but I wanted it with Callie, and that fucks me up more than anything else.
More than the server who took our photo. More than the ass-reaming I know I’m going to get from Hammond when I get back to the hotel. More than the memories.
More than all of it.
I wanted to kiss her, and fuck me, I still do.
My Firebird.