37. Remy
REMY
I receivea text from the bouncer the moment Ollie enters my club.
I tell myself I need to give her time to be with her friends. But it takes twenty-eight agitated minutes of restraint before I stalk from my office and make my way downstairs to the main club area with Valenti and Russo tailing me.
I find her in seconds, my eyes calibrated to her beauty as she sways on the far side of the half-filled dance floor in a dress made for sin.
She’s here later than I’d anticipated.
I assume they must’ve gone somewhere else for pre-drinks. But it’s still too early to be crowded in here. The bars aren’t packed. The VIP booths are relatively quiet.
She doesn’t have a drink in hand, only her clutch, but it’s clear her night hasn’t been spent concentrating on sobriety.
Her hair is down. Her body sways with carefree abandon. And that smile.
Fuck.
How can one curve of lips possess such power?
She’s wearing a bare slip of a dress, deep red, low at the neckline, and from the few glimpses I’ve caught sight of between the movement of bodies, it also rides cock-numbingly high on those toned thighs.
She’s a walking wet dream, and I’m not the only one to notice.
I scan the clubgoers lining the dance floor, taking note of all the men who ogle her as I remain in the shadows near one of the bouncer alcoves.
“I didn’t pick her as the type to draw attention,” Valenti says over the music.
She’s not. That dress is for me, and the knowledge makes my dick uncomfortably hard.
The leggy brunette she works with shimmies a few feet to Ollie’s left, attracting just as much male interest, while the other woman—Amy? Allison?—has her hands all over a blonde in thigh-high stiletto boots to the right.
“Your usual, boss.” A waitress stops in front of me, her serving tray empty apart from the lone whiskey tumbler filled with amber liquid.
“Thanks.” I take the drink without making eye contact.
“Do you think it’s going to be busy tonight?” she purrs.
I glower, my scrutiny remaining on Ollie as she sways to the beat.
“Only time will tell, sweetheart,” Russo answers for me, jerking his chin at her in silent dismissal.
Her shoulders slump and she walks away, metaphorical tail between her legs.
“She was on the prowl.” Valenti states the obvious.
“They always are,” Russo mutters. “If only we had a boss who thought to make introductions.”
I shoot him a glance and raise the glass of scotch to my lips. “If you want to mix business with pleasure, by all means, go for it. You both deserve the night off.”
He screws up his nose. “Nah. Not tonight. I’m too curious to see what happens with you and your little lady.”
“Shit,” Valenti curses under his breath.
“What?” Russo stiffens in alert as both of us return our attention to the dance floor.
My pulse rushes in my ears at the sight of the spiky-haired guy closing in behind Ollie.
He says something in her ear. Something that makes her laugh and turn in his direction.
I clench my teeth.
I thought she hated people.
“What do you want us to do, boss?” Russo asks.
I scrub a rough hand over my mouth, forcing patience. “Nothing.” Yet.
She’s allowed to dance with other men.
I may not like it. I may even hate it so much I’m contemplating my club’s downfall with a brutal murder in front of all my patrons. But if there’s anything I’ve learned this week, it’s to bite my tongue.
The song ends and another begins, this one a techno remix of a classic love song.
To my fucking horror, Ollie steps closer to the walking death wish and places her hands on the guy’s shoulders. I can only assume his hands are somewhere far lower. I can’t see a damn thing through the throng of bodies.
I take another sip of scotch.
Then another.
Fuck. I down the remainder of the liquid and squeeze the tumbler tight, my grip threatening to shatter glass.
“Here.” I shove the tumbler at Russo’s chest and pull out my cell.
Me
You’re becoming quite the black widow. What’s his name and how do you think he’d prefer to die?
My gaze remains riveted on her as she breaks away from the embrace to retrieve her cell from her clutch. She smiles as she focuses on the screen.
Fucking smiles.
I inch backward into one of the bouncer alcoves as she raises her gaze and scans the club, not finding me. Then she’s tapping out a reply, the buzz of my cell coming seconds later.
Olivia
Was attempting to find a taker for the V-card. Do you think he’s the one?
Jealousy punches through me. So does an electric thrill.
She wants to play.
Game on, Ollie.
She scans the crowd again, and then hesitantly returns her attention to the man whose life is shortening by the minute.
Me
I don’t know, Pyro. Ask if he’s willing to die for the cause and see what he says.
While you’re at it, I’d appreciate a height and weight guesstimation so I don’t have to waste time during disposal.
She checks her phone again, the laughter on her face doing things to me that the guy quickly eviscerates when he leans too close and says something in her ear.
I shove my clenched fists into my pockets. “Take care of him.”
Russo and Valenti shoot me questioning looks.
“Permanently?” Valenti asks.
I gnash my molars.
She’d hate me for the death sentence.
Would the animosity last forever? Maybe not.
But would it delay our forthcoming gratification? Undoubtably.
“No.” I growl. “Bring him to me.”
“Sure thing.” Valenti approaches the dance floor, entering the slew of gyrating bodies to make his way to the man who’ll soon learn a valuable lesson, while Russo remains at my side.
Ollie stiffens, but keeps swaying as Valenti leans into her dance partner, saying something in his ear that has the man jerking back theatrically to clasp a hand to his chest.
I scowl, not expecting the dramatic response.
Valenti shoots me a glance, whatever silent message he’s trying to convey across the room not hitting its mark as he makes his way back toward me with the guy in question following a step behind.
It isn’t until they’re a few feet away that I see what he’s wearing—a skin-tight, fishnet tank top with equally tight baby-pink shorts.
Russo snorts.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The guy I wanted dead practically skips toward me, sizing me up with enough carnal interest to convey Ollie isn’t his usual demographic.
“Hey, daddy.” He bites his bottom lip. “I heard you wanted to see me.”
She set me up.
I want to be pissed, but a grin pulls at my lips, my enjoyment of this game making me crave her even more.
“There’s been a misunderstanding.” I give him a dismissive stare. “Enjoy your night.”
“Oh.” Lover boy pouts. “But you’re just my type.”
“Maybe some other time.”
Russo chokes on a laugh, attempting to hide it over the clearing of his throat.
I return my attention to Ollie on the dance floor who now stares directly at me with a shit-eating grin.
“Are you serious?” My potential lover’s voice brims with excitement.
“No.” Valenti advances in threat. “He’s not fucking serious, now scram.”
Ollie holds my gaze, making the rest of the world disappear as she moves her body to the beat, her hand gliding seductively over her chest, up her neck, then into her hair.
I don’t know what’s gotten into her tonight, but I’d like to add to it.
I pull my cell back out of my pocket.
Me
Not nice, Ollie. You almost sentenced an underserving man to death.
Olivia
??
Me
Keep laughing. But as soon as you step foot from view of your friends, you’re mine.
I watch with predatory intent as she remains transfixed on her screen.
Olivia
Is that supposed to be a threat?
A sexual one?
You do realize I’ve been trying to get in your pants for weeks, right?
Have I not made that blindingly obvious?
Should I start stripping on the dance floor to make it abundantly clear?
I smirk at my cell like a kid on crack.
I’m in love with this woman. There’s no doubt about it.
“I need you two to create a diversion.” I shove my cell back in my pocket and focus on Valenti. “One that keeps Ollie’s friends occupied while I kidnap their favorite troublemaker.”
He jerks his chin in understanding. “I’ll organize some shots. Free alcohol will do the trick.”
“It could also induce a stampede,” Russo mutters.
“I don’t care.” Anticipation thrums through me. “Do it.”
My men head toward the closest bar while Ollie continues to eye-fuck me from across the room.
I can already feel her. Smell her. Fucking taste her as she dances for me and only me.
She’s going to come so hard tonight she’ll feel it for days.
We both will.
I remain in the shadows, watching my own private dance until Russo and Valenti catch my attention on their way to the DJ stand, two bottle service waitresses with full trays of shots following behind them.
Russo talks to the DJ, grabs the guy’s microphone, then announces an impromptu dance competition with free drinks for patrons with the best moves.
Cheers of excitement pierce my ears as people flood the dance floor, the music switching to a more frenzied techno beat.
I stalk forward while Ollie is distracted, her gaze frantically scanning for her friends as they’re pushed apart by the growing crowd.
“Big mistake, baby girl.” I stop in front of her, not waiting for a response before hauling her over my shoulder.
She squeals, the noise smothered beneath the frenzy.
“Text your friends and tell them you’re using the bathroom,” I demand.
“How?” She wiggles. “I’m upside down.”
“Don’t pretend those hands aren’t skillful.”
Her laughter vibrates into my shoulder as I carry her to the staff only door and slam it shut with my foot once we’re in the empty hall.
“I get the distinct impression you enjoy playing with me.” I place her on her feet, not giving her time to find her footing before I walk into her, backing her against the brick wall. “Did you enjoy taunting me?”
She rolls her lips together, fighting a smile as her clutch falls to the floor. “I’m not sure why you’d get that impression.” Her cheeks lift. Her eyes gleam. She fights so hard to contain that smile, but it breaks free to slam right through me. Ruthlessly.
I’ve been attracted to her fear. Her tenacity. Her lust.
But this—her happiness—it’s the holy fucking grail.
I cage her against the wall, my predatory eyes taking liberties with the raised view. The thin spaghetti straps. The gaping neckline. “What the fuck are you wearing, Pyro?”
She flinches. “You don’t approve?”
“Oh, I fucking approve. Every man under this roof does.” I meet her gaze, our proximity making every inch of me thrum.
Her brow furrows. “I wore it for you… but now I can’t tell if I should’ve chosen something more subdued.”
“You can’t tell because I’m so fucking hard it’s difficult to convey appreciation.” I palm her waist, the warmth of her curves sinking into my blood. “I’d never police your wardrobe. I’m far more inclined to cut out the eyes of the men who don’t deserve to look at you.”
Her smile returns, the effect even more detrimental to my composure when it’s timid. “I like that answer.”
I inch closer, teasing us both with the breath of space between our lips. “I hope I’m equally impressed with yours when you tell me why you’re not wearing my ring.”
That curve of lips turns sinful. “Who says I’m not wearing it?”
I lower my gaze again, taking in the wealth of cleavage, the mass of skin on display. It’s not in her hair because her locks are loose and tangled around her shoulders. “Where?”
She licks her bottom lip with a nervous flick of her tongue. “Maybe you should search and find out.”
I growl, unable to withstand the torture any longer.
I swoop in, slamming my mouth to hers.
She melts into the contact, opening for me, deepening the kiss on impact.
I grind into her, my dick desperate for the friction while a needy sound escapes her throat.
“Find it,” she rasps against my mouth, raising a leg to wrap around my hip.
I groan, clasping a hand to her elevated knee, my palm burning as I skate a trail toward the apex of her thighs. I’m inches away from heaven, so fucking ready to get my hands on her panties and tear them to shreds when something foreign brushes my fingertips.
I glance down, finding a thick band of black elastic wrapped around her upper thigh, my ring tied to it with a tiny red ribbon.
My cock jolts with appreciation.
“I told you I was wearing it.” She looks up at me through hooded lashes. So coy. So undeniably stunning.
“Good fucking girl.” I smash my mouth back on hers, one hand gliding into her hair to command the tilt of her chin while the other continues to slide along her thigh, over her smooth hip, to her bare ass.
Don’t tell me she’s not wearing any panties.
I’d hauled her over my shoulder. Her pretty pussy would’ve been on display.
A growl rumbles in my throat as I splay my hand, my fingers brushing fabric.
My virgin minx is wearing the tiniest silken G-string.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” I lower my hand from her hair, my touch skimming her jaw to gently palm her throat. “I’m a slave to you. I always have been.”
“I feel the same way,” she whispers into my mouth. “From the first moment we met, I’ve been yours.”
Fuck.
I can’t take the perfection.
The serendipity.
I drag my hand from her ass to slide between us, gliding over the slip of material covering her crotch. “Then show me.” I rake my tongue against hers. “Burn for me, Pyro.”
She shudders as I find her clit through the slippery fabric, rubbing gently back and forth.
She grabs for my shirt, her greedy fingers tugging, pulling.
“Do you like that?” I grind my throbbing cock into her hip as our mouths dance. “Do you enjoy me touching you?”
“Yes.” Her lips are frantic against mine. Her nails scratch into my chest. “You drive me wild. Every time I think of you I…”
I pull back, meeting her eyes. “You what?”
She pants, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “I…” She bites her bottom lip, gliding an arm between us, her hand finding mine between her thighs. She tentatively clasps my fingers, guiding them beneath the elastic of her panties, and smooths them over the warmest, wettest honey pot. “I get like this.”
I tense. Every muscle. Every limb.
There isn’t a part of me that isn’t screaming with the need to shove my cock inside her and claim what no man has taken before.
“You’re so fucking wet for me.” My voice is a guttural growl.
“Always.” She tilts her hips toward me, trying to gain penetration. “Please touch me.” She wraps a hand around my neck, clawing my skin. “I need you.”
I salivate. Loving her need. Thriving on it. “Such a greedy little girl.” I rub two fingers along her slit, back and forth, teasing her entrance.
She cries. “Please, Remy.”
“Don’t worry. I have something better for you.” I drag my hand from her hair and shove it into my jacket pocket, pulling out the bullet vibrator that’s haunted me all fucking night. “I’ve dreamed about touching you with this.”
She eyes the tiny device as I turn it on with a press of my thumb, the muted hum of vibration barely heard over the bass music thudding through the walls.
I glide it into her panties for my soaked hand to take charge. “You told me you’ve got experience with toys, and I swear to God the image hasn’t left my mind.” I place it against her clit, my chest tightening with reverence as her lips part and her back arches off the wall.
I pulse with appreciation.
With fucking awe.
She closes her eyes, her thigh clamping around my hip. “Remy.”
My name is a whisper. A goddamn prayer to the devil.
I lean close, my mouth brushing her ear. “I’m going to watch you come, Pyro. I’m going to watch you come so fucking hard, then I’m going to spend the rest of my life religiously rewatching the security video until I die a happy man.”
She stiffens, her eyes snapping open.
Shit.
My pretty girl isn’t comfortable being recorded.
“Nobody else has access to the files.” I circle the vibrator, rounding her clit.
She doesn’t relax. “Remy, I?—”
“It’s okay. You can turn off the security system. Just slide your hand into my pocket and take out my phone.”
She shakes her head. “No…I…”
“I’m not taking my hands off of this flawless body, so you either grab my phone or I get to rub my cock raw as I relive this moment over and over and fucking over again, habitually, for the rest of my goddamn life.”
She trembles. “I…” She gasps for air. “I don’t care about the camera… Oh, God, Remy, I’m already so close.”
I pause. “You’re not panicking?”
“No,” she pants. “The thought… of you… watching me like this…” Her hips arc higher. “It makes me so fucking hot.”
Adrenaline pours through me. Pride. Possession. “You’re fucking perfect.”
She whimpers. “Remy…”
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the sweetness, trying to distract myself from the lust. “Tell me where you want your toy.” I add pressure to her clit. “Here?” I slide it lower, teasing her entrance. “Or in that slick and needy cunt?”
She gasps. “Inside.” She shoves a hand around my nape, tugging my hair, clawing my scalp.
I groan. “Do you know how hard you make me?”
She mewls, her hips rocking harder.
“Do you know how badly I want to palm my dick and slide deep into this virginal pussy?”
“Do it,” she begs.
I clench my jaw, fighting temptation. “Not tonight.”
She turns her face to mine, her eyes glazed with hunger. “But you will? Eventually?”
There’s no denying it.
I no longer possess the willpower to do the right thing.
I’m going to fuck her. Just not here. Not now.
When I finally succumb she’ll be sober, and we’ll be some place better than against a seedy behind-the-scenes wall of a club.
“Yes.” I hold her gaze as I glide the vibrator inside her. “I’m definitely going to fuck you. That tight pussy will feel so fucking good around my cock.”
Her eyes widen, her breath hitching once, twice.
“Remy.” She comes undone, lips parted, neck arching.
The beauty of it steals my sanity.
She’s a fucking mirage. Too exquisite to be mine.
I slide my hand up her throat, over her chin. Without being coaxed, she tilts her head forward, moaning as she wraps her mouth around two of my fingers, her cheeks hollowing with unholy suction.
I snarl. Dick throbbing. Reality spiraling. “You’re such a good fucking girl.”
She’s everything.
My pleasure. My pain. My suffering.
I drag my fingers from her lips and claim her mouth with my own, reveling in her groans, drowning in her bliss.
I need more of her.
All of her.
I kiss her as her crest peaks, her nails gradually losing the bite of ferocity, her limbs slowly softening with pliancy.
She hums with contentment, and I inch back to see her blissed out and glowing.
“You’re crazy,” she rasps.
I incline my head and retract the vibrator from inside her. “Crazy for you, my pretty little Pyro.”
She smiles, the expression blindingly infectious.
“You know you used to flinch when I called you that.” I remove the device from her panties and turn it off.
“I didn’t like it before.” Her body turns to putty against mine.
“And now?”
She blinks up at me in a lust-drunk haze. “Now it makes me feel closer to you. Like we’re not so different.”
We are different.
Good and bad. Light and dark. Innocence and guilt. But there’s no denying the selfish part of me that purrs in contentment at her admission.
“You make me feel alive, Remy.”
That contentment fractures. She has no clue how close I am to fucking this all up. “I’m glad I’ve done something right.”
I wrap my hand around the vibrator and slide it into my pocket, suppressing my apprehension with the sickening thrill of how her pleasure coats my palm.
Her smile sobers. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”
And I hope to hell she never sees me through mine.
My cell vibrates in my pants.
Ollie raises a taunting brow. “Another toy?”
I smirk through my annoyance at the interruption. My phone is silenced to all but a few numbers. The only calls able to come through are usually important.
I drag my cell from my pocket and stare at Lucy’s name illuminated on screen.
“Is that Dad’s Lucy?” Ollie swipes at the errant strands of hair clinging to her cheeks.
“Yeah.” An unwanted sense of foreboding skitters down my spine.
“Are you going to answer it?”
“No.” Carlo’s nurse hasn’t called me before. Apart from a few short texts prior to her employment, and another few to arrange the trip to Berkeley Springs, our communication has been limited. But that won’t always be the case.
“Why not?” Ollie asks.
The call ends. The cell screen turns dark.
I raise my attention to her. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait.” I don’t want to speak to Lucy in front of Ollie. “And besides, I’ve got more important people to concentrate on right now.”
The tops of her cheeks turn a rosier shade of pink.
It’s crazy, the things that make her blush.
“I’ll call her back later.” I pocket the device and glide my hand over Ollie’s jaw, stealing another kiss. “I’ve barely started making my way through the list of things I want to do to you.”