Chapter 3 We Don’t Fuck the Devil #2
I rush around the corner for the door and push my way through a swarm of sweaty, naked bodies, getting a handful of gropes
with every step I take.
“Back the fuck off her,” I growl at the dude as soon as I’m within spitting distance of him. The old geezer clearly failed
to accept no the first time from a newbie, so he deserves no pleasantries from me. Using my shoulder, I insert myself between them and
turn to face Dakota, who stares back at me with wide, horrified eyes.
“We are not here to play.” I grab Dakota’s hand in a claiming sort of way and add, “We’re just watching.”
“I didn’t realize she was part of a couple.” The man coos as he moves around me to take a full look at the two of us. I level
him with a glare, and his brows quirk. “Maybe you both—”
“The answer is no ,” I bark and note that Dakota’s breathing has picked up. I don’t know if it’s me or the guy freaking her out, but I expect
I was breathing the same way when I spotted her kneeling at some asshole’s feet five minutes ago.
Thankfully, her shock keeps her compliant for a rare moment, and she allows me to tuck her under my arm and move her through
the crowd toward the exit. We have to step over a woman going down on another woman directly in front of the door, but when
we’re greeted with the quietness of the hallway, I sigh with relief.
Glancing around, irritation pricks the hairs on my neck as I spot all the voyeurs’ eyes on us.
I grab Dakota’s wrist again and pull her away from the theater while fighting the strange urge to yell at all of them to look the fuck away.
I don’t even like this girl, but right now she’s a newbie and she seems uncomfortable, so I’m trying not to read too much into my overprotective reaction.
I find a closet-size private room at the end of a hallway. It’s poorly lit, but at least it has a door with no windows for
gawkers.
“What in the fucking hell are you doing here?” I hiss, trying not to draw the attention of the security cameras as I close
the door as calmly as possible.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she repeats my question and struggles to cover her body, clearly mortified to be so naked in front of me. Her
curves glow in the dim yellow light overhead, and I feel my body reacting carnally to her. It’s hard not to be turned on in
a place like this, even by someone I can’t stand.
Jaw clenched, I begin unbuttoning my flannel—and feel all the air escape my lungs when Dakota’s small but mighty palms shove
me across the room until my back hits the wall.
“I am not fucking you, Calder Fletcher,” she exclaims, her voice shrill as her fingers gouge into my pecs.
“I am not fucking you, Dakota Schaefer,” I roar back as I rip the last few buttons on my shirt in haste. I stand before her in nothing but my faded
jeans and black boots as I hold my flannel out. “Would you cover yourself up, for fuck’s sake?”
She looks at my shirt like it’s covered in fleas. “Why? Am I that disgusting to you? Well, get the hell over it because I
can wear what I want here. I don’t give a fuck if my body disgusts you or not.”
“You think your body is disgusting?” My jaw drops at her insane response.
Her head yanks back. “No, but you obviously do, or you wouldn’t be trying to cover me up right now.”
I bite my lip, holding back the irritation billowing up inside of me. In all the years I’ve known this woman, she never fucking
hears me. It’s like we speak two different languages. Every damn decision she had to make on her house with me felt like we were
trying to solve the square root of pi. It was excruciating.
“I’m offering you my shirt because I can’t talk to you when you’re half-naked.”
My eyes have a mind of their own and move down her body a little more slowly this time. This isn’t the same body she had when
I met her seven years ago as the best friend of my niece’s nanny. Back then she was a slip of a thing but still just as spunky.
In the years that have passed, she’s been married and had some changes in her form. None of which are disgusting.
Noticeable, yes. Disgusting... hell no.
Her body is just as annoyingly delectable as it always has been. I’d be half-attracted to her if she didn’t speak. Maybe that’s
my kink: a silent partner.
“Well, that’s good you can’t talk to me when I’m half-naked because I don’t want you to talk to me at all.” She flips her
hair as she moves to open the door.
“Just tell me what you’re doing here,” I command as my hand flattens on the wood to press it closed again.
Her arm brushes against my abs as she struggles with the doorknob, and I feel my body tremble at her proximity. She turns
and looks up at me, her nostrils flaring in defiance.
God, she’d make a stunning brat.
“You tell me first,” she quips.
“I’m a member here,” I answer through clenched teeth.
“Of course you are.” She rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t be more predictable.”
“You couldn’t be more annoying.” I step back and toss my flannel into her chest and eye her firmly. “Aren’t you married? That
guy in there definitely wasn’t your husband.”
“I’m divorced, you idiot.” She flings my flannel back in my face. “I haven’t been with Randal for over a year.”
My jaw clenches at the mention of his name.
If I hate Dakota by ten, I hate Randal by a million.
However, it was easier to file Dakota away in the Married and Gone Forever category after we first met.
Otherwise I might have been tempted to engage with her during my fuckboy phase when we first met.
The woman drives me batshit crazy, and when she was married, she was a lot less bothersome.
“So, what... you’re here to find a new husband?” I ask with a quirk of my brow.
“Are you here to find a wife?” she volleys back.
“I come regularly for fun. You sure as fuck don’t.”
“Well, that’s true, this was my first time, but if you’re a member here, then don’t worry about it. I’ll just find another
club.”
“Another club?” I feel breathless at the thought. “Why do you want to go to another club?”
“To stay away from you, ya creep!”
“I mean why are you suddenly so desperate to hang out at a sex club?”
“It’s none of your damn business, Calder,” she snaps and then shoves me against the wall to thrust her finger in my face.
“And if you tell Max or Cozy about this, I will dismember you, got it? Your dick will be so fucked-up, the club will kick
you out for scaring away their other members.”
Her chest presses up against me, and I can’t help but smile at her spark. God, I really do love to hate this woman. This raging
nag was impossible to please on her house reno. I bet she’s impossible to please in the bedroom too.
“Tell me why you’re hanging out at sex clubs and your secret is safe with me, boss.” I quirk my brow at her. “Is this a midlife
crisis?”
“I’m thirty-three, you asshole.” She jerks away from me.
“Exactly, you’re too young for this shit.”
“You’re like two years older than me!”
“And a hell of a lot more experienced, which is why I know that a place like this isn’t for a girl like you.”
“Like you know what kind of girl I am.”
“Oh, I’ve got some ideas,” I state with confidence. You really get to know someone when you work together on a renovation. And all it took was one damn setback to send her over the edge. Recalling that epic blowout we had all those years ago still gives me the chills.
“What did that guy say to you in there, anyways?”
“In where?”
“The theater room,” I snap, my patience wearing with every passing second. “What did he say to you to make you uncomfortable?
I need to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I will beat his fucking face in and get him kicked out of this club if he was inappropriate.” I feel my shoulders
tense as I grip my flannel in my hand and prepare for whatever comes out of her mouth next.
Dakota’s brows furrow, and I feel my own face falling in confusion. Why am I so worked up over this? Inappropriate is kind of the name of the game here. Yes, people are allowed to have boundaries and ask for consent, but coming to a place
like this is designed to push you outside your comfort zone. I need to chill the fuck out.
“Won’t beating someone’s face in get you kicked out of this club too?” Dakota asks, her head tilting like she’s trying to
figure me out.
I close my eyes and lick my lips. “Just tell me what he said to you. Please.”
“A please from Calder Fletcher. Has hell frozen over?” Her gaze moves down my naked chest and lingers over my abs, and I feel my cock
stir with interest. Down, boy... She’s the devil. We don’t fuck the devil.
Dakota must take mercy on me, because she finally answers my question. “He asked if he could take a dump on my chest.”
My lips curl with disgust. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, and I swore I’d keep an open mind here tonight, but poop play is a hard limit for me.”
“Poop play?” I repeat her words and feel my shoulders begin to shake as I use my shirt to cover my smirk.
“Is that not what it’s called?” she asks, deathly serious, and that tips me over the edge.
My body erupts, and I brace my hands on my knees as I buckle over with laughter. “Only you.”
“ Only me what?”
“Only you would attract the one and only scat-kink guy in the club.”
“Go fuck yourself, Calder,” she says and makes a move to leave again. “I’m going back in.”
“The hell you are.” I force my shirt back over her chest and grab her shoulders, making a motion to open the door for her.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Where?” she asks, and I swear I see a flick of desire shoot through her eyes. Does she want to go somewhere kinky? With me ?
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I’m taking you home.”
“No, you’re not.” She yanks out of my grasp, and her voice is loud in the small room. “I paid to be here.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“I don’t care.” Her eyes flare with determination. “You’re not my daddy, Calder. You’re just the guy who fucked up my house
seven years ago. House-killer!”
“Would you stop throwing that in my face every time you see me?” I growl, stepping close to loom over her. She’s maybe five
foot seven but still feels small compared to my six foot three. Even tinier in a place like this. “Let’s fucking go.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and she pulls back, staring at me with a look that gets right under my skin. I rumble a curse
under my breath as I step close and bend at the waist, throwing her up over my shoulder in one fell swoop.
“Calder Fletcher, put me down!” she exclaims, kicking her feet and batting her hands on my back.
“Not a chance,” I grunt as her knee connects with my gut. “You’re practically family, and you’re not getting shit on on my
watch, no matter how much I can’t stand you.”
When I swing the door open to carry her ass out of here, I come face-to-face with one of the security guards. The big one.
“Put her down,” the guy booms, his voice leaving no room for interpretation.
“She doesn’t belong here.”
“She signed all the documents.”
“I don’t care,” I reply, feeling anxiety creep up inside me if he doesn’t let me get her out of here. “She’s coming with me.”
“If you don’t put her down, you will be permanently banned from this establishment.”
“I know her!” I argue and try to move past him.
“Don’t care,” he grinds back and continues blocking my path. “Put her down, or we’re calling the cops.”
I growl angrily and drop my flannel as I place Dakota back on her feet. She hobbles in her heels, and the giant man moves
between us to grab my arms and cinch them tightly behind my back. Dakota moves back to allow him room to manhandle me out
the doorway.
“Dakota, tell him you know me. We’re... friends .” The word is a complete lie, but I’ll say whatever I must to not get kicked out. If Poop Play guy gets to stay, I sure as
fuck should get to stay.
The guard stops shoving me down the hallway long enough to face Dakota. She’s leaning back on the doorframe holding my flannel
shirt over her shoulder like she’s posing for some fucked-up catalog called Cunts and Cowboys. Honestly, it’s not a bad look.
Except for the fact that she’s watching me struggle with a gleeful twinkle in her eye that I do not like.
“Miss... is that true? Do you know this man?”
Silence falls between us as Dakota’s brows lift and I wait for her to save me from this guy’s death grip, which is definitely
going to leave a bruise. Finally, after what feels like hours, she replies, “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”