Chapter 11
The club was nothing as she expected, crystal chandeliers instead of neon lights, marble countertops instead of sticky floors.
Everything screamed luxury. A live DJ spun tracks that made her body want to move.
Something she’d never heard before but that wasn’t new.
She was living out her fantasies, and Brooks was the one making them happen.
She clung to Brooks, though she didn’t need to. The way people parted for him reminded her once again who’s company she was in. She was protected with him. Bouncers straightened their backs at his approach, bartenders nodded their heads, and beautiful women sent smiles their way.
She didn’t need to be territorial, the steady weight of Brooks’ palm on her lower back told her she had nothing to worry about. He was already claiming her in a way that made those same women quickly avert their gaze.
“Relax,” Brooks murmured, tickling her ear and guiding her to a private section overlooking the main floor. Taylor let the ambiance wash over. She exhaled as she sank into a plush crushed velvet lounge chair. Moments later, Brooks ordered the staff to give her the whole experience.
“I have never seen anything like this. It’s giving Casino. ”
“That’s downstairs. You good though?” he asked, watching her closely. He wanted her to have the full experience tonight—no stress, no second-guessing. Just vibes.
“Better than good,” she grinned, eyes lit with excitement as the celebration unfolded around her.
Sparklers, dancing girls, and a glowing board that read Turn Up, Milk Marie .
It was a full-on spectacle. And she loved every second of it—loved being in his world.
Even more? She felt blessed that he didn’t mind sharing it with her.
“Milk Marie?” she asked, eyebrows raised with a laugh.
Brooks leaned in, voice low, playful. “She got a thang for me, I got a thang for her Never ever let her get away from me,” he sang, and the way he looked at her while doing it? Sent a shiver right down her spine.
She met his eyes through sultry lashes, he stared back at her. His mind hadn’t changed.
Then the beat flipped—City Girls' “Act Up” came through the speakers, and the vibe shifted fast.
“Go,” he said with a grin. They were in the strip club, he wasn’t supposed to be on the verge of whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
What started as a little shoulder bounce turned into the dancers pulling her into their circle. Taylor didn’t hesitate. She dropped it low, rolled her hips, and threw her hands up. The stage belonged to her tonight.
“Lord have mercy.”
When one of the dancers showed her how to make it clap, she didn’t miss a beat.
“Here, bae,” Brooks said, pressing a fat stack of money into Taylor’s hand. “Make it tsunami in this bitch.”
Her eyes widened before her face split into a mischievous grin. “Oh, we got cash?” She turned toward the stage, shaking her ass before rapping David Banner loudly, “We got cash so we screaming out shake something bihhh!”
Brooks nearly choked on his drink. He threw his head back, laughing as she kept rapping. He loved code-switching, Taylor. It was his favorite. He watched her rap the lyrics with her chest out. She’d been waiting for this moment her entire life.
“Damn right,” he said, watching her with pure amusement. “So go have fun. Just don’t get nobody head knocked the fuck off, understood?”
She looked too good, someone was bound to try their luck.
“Understood,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck for a quick hug before sprinting off, high on adrenaline and excitement. She ran off, giddy, joy in motion.
Brooks leaned over the banister, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone. She was having the time of her life, and he knew he had to capture it. He snapped a picture just as she tossed a handful of bills into the air, her head thrown back in laughter, her joy so real it was damn near tangible.
Brooks took a slow sip of his drink, eyes locked on her. Wild. Free. Glowing. He hadn’t seen her like this. No worry. Just her.
When “Big Ole Freak” hit, she climbed on stage without a care in the world. She figured if she was here she might as well make the most of it .
She moved to the beat. Lights hit the curve of her body just right, and Brooks didn’t blink. Couldn’t. Blinking would’ve meant missing even a second of her giving him a show.
At the end of the day, he was still a nigga in a strip club. So, he did what came naturally.
With a blunt hanging in his mouth, he made it rain. That was his ‘Milk Marie’ down there. And they hadn’t officially gotten to “mine” territory… but in his head and in his chest. She was already spoken for. When he talked about his, Taylor was in that sentence. Every time.
She watched in awe as the dollar bills fell from the sky falling all over her. She laughed and looked up at him. They locked eyes until he gave her a panty dropping smile and a wink.
That wink alone sent her into a spiral. He was so damn sexy. She’d decided right then and there that she wasn’t going home.
“This her first time?” one of the dancers asked over the music, pulling Brooks from the trance he was in.
He just shook his head, grinning.
This was a whole different Taylor.
For a second, he considered going to grab her—calm her down, reel her in.
But he said fuck that .
Let her live. She was grown. She wasn’t hurting anybody.
If someone had a problem, they could take it up with him.
He’d called ahead, made sure the spot wasn’t too crowded. They could only be so private in a place like this.
But if he could hold her secrets a little longer, he would.
That was the thing about Taylor—she wasn’t just his to protect. She was his to witness. And right now? She was wild and free and smiling like she meant it.
“Damn, is it that obvious?”
“They all come in here wide eyed and curious. She got talent, though,” she joked, half-laughing, half-serious.
Brooks smirked, resting his eyes back on Taylor. Talent wasn’t the word for it.
As the DJ transitioned to “The Hills” by The Weekend, the bass vibrating through the floor, the entire club seemed to shift with it. The wild, playful energy from before melted into something slower, something deeper.
That laugh. That fucking laugh.
Brooks rubbed the back of his neck, trying to pull it together.
He wasn’t even breathing right. It wasn’t just her body; and she had body.
It was the way she let go. Completely uninhibited.
Unapologetic. Unfuckwithable . The type of aura you came back for.
She was unthawing his heart with every laugh, every smile, every sigh.
He felt blessed that he could do that for someone and that someone let him.
Fifteen minutes later, a giggling and very tipsy Taylor collapsed back into the booth beside him, breathless and glowing with glitter, the scent of her perfume made Brooks inhale.
“You been holding out on me, I see,” he breathed, palm firm against her hip.
A breathless laugh escaped. “I never said I didn’t know how to have fun. You know what they say about PKs…”
Her lips parted, slow and knowing. “We can be little freaks.”
Brooks’ grip on her tightened. She was testing him now.
“Oh that’s what they be saying?”
Leaning closer, his lips nearly brushed her ear. His cologne wrapped around her, potent enough to make her dizzy as his voice rumbled through her body.
“You should do this more often.”
“Do what?” She teased, tilting her head, letting her lashes sweep up at him.
“Whatever the fuck you want.” His eyes burned into hers, daring her, waiting for a sign. “You look good when you’re not letting a muthafucka dim your light.”
Taylor swallowed hard. The way he looked at her, searching her, begging for her to let him have his way, did something to her.
Still riding the high, she stood and moved between his legs, hands trailing over his shoulders as her hips found the beat again.
Clouds of smoke swirled between them as he let out another breath, the weed tugging at his control, eyes low and hunger rising fast. Every bit of patience he’d stored for her was thinning.
She just smirked. Kept moving. Rolling her hips in slow circles as she straddled him, teasing him with nothing but rhythm and nerve.
His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, calloused fingers grazing skin until they dipped just beneath the hem of her shorts.
He gripped her ass firm, possessive and pulled her flush against him .
Her breath hitched. His mouth hovered just above her collarbone, so close she could feel the heat of it.
He licked his lips, voice a mutter low enough to vibrate against her chest. “What you doing, Tay?”
Still moving, she dipped lower, grinding gently, her breasts grazing his lips, soft and fleeting. Her scent hit him again sweet, warm, a little spicy, all Taylor. Her essence would be his undoing, and he was almost certainly ok with that.
His fingers flexed on her thighs, tempted to snatch her straight into his lap and give her what she was clearly begging for.
“What?” She asked, feigning innocence, eyes wide but there was nothing pure about the way she was moving.
His hand slid higher, fingers catching her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. The grip wasn’t rough but it wasn’t soft either.
It was a warning.
“You playing with fire,” he said, gaze locked on hers. “And I remember making you some promises. I get my hands on you...” he stopped resting his forehead against her chest and then back up to her.
Taylor leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath hot against his skin. “I remember. And I know a man of his word when I see one. It was origami, wasn’t it?”
Brooks’ jaw clenched. His grip on her chin tightened slightly, thumb dragging slowly across her bottom lip, weighing every outcome, every line he was about to cross.
“Taylor,” his voice dropped lower than she had heard it before, “I will wreck your fuckin’ life and then spend the rest of mine putting it back together. Is that what you want?”