4. Hollis
FOUR
HOLLIS
My brother was a fucking genius.
A sadistic one, leaving me all alone with Maryanne in his office, but a genius, nonetheless.
Not that I would ever tell him that. Hell no.
It would go straight to his head, and I would never hear the end of it.
Though thinking about it, would it really matter if he helped me out with this whole Maryanne situation?
Situation. Is that what she is? A moment in time that needed to be handled?
I swallowed hard, thinking about the way I had somehow managed to maintain my composure and hands to myself while I told her about the job while I tried and failed not to breathe in too deeply.
Her soft vanilla scent was stronger than it had been in the trailer or the one time I had seen her at the gym.
It close to killed me not to be able to press my lips to hers or hold her in my arms and promise she didn’t have a damn thing to worry about.
She isn’t a situation. I scrubbed my face with the palms of my hands before leaning back, my attention back on the screens behind my brother’s desk.
Maryanne wasn’t a situation. She was going to be my entire goddamn life. I knew it down to the marrow of my bones.
I might have fought it, tried to deny my feelings and who she was to me by finding excuse after excuse, but I was done trying to talk myself out of it. Sitting in Jonas’ damn office with her, talking to her for the last five minutes, had solidified it for me.
Maryanne was mine.
The only problem now was figuring out how the hell to make that happen.
I groaned and shut my eyes with my head tilted up at the ceiling. Maryanne. My sweet little flower was about to get plucked up, and she had no idea I was after her.
The blaring music died down slightly as the DJ’s muffled words thanked whomever was out there and introduced the next dancer onto the main stage. My eyes moved to the screens and I sat up straighter. Jonas wasn’t back from wherever the hell he had gone, probably the Kitty Room with his fiancée.
I watched as the stage slowly darkened and out came my girl wearing… was that a schoolgirl costume? No. I sat up straighter and popped the two top buttons of my dress shirt. Sweat started to form at the nape of my neck as I took in the sight of her walking out.
That wasn’t a schoolgirl costume. It was a naughty librarian.
Shit. My mouth salivated and my dick instantly went rock hard.
I felt like a fucking dirty old man watching her out on stage. Her piercing blue eyes looked out at the crowd beneath chunky black-framed glasses giving off that strict but almost innocent air that no matter what outfit she went on stage in, she could never shake off.
Maryanne’s long dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
The dark strands shined beneath the lights of the stage as she rounded the pole.
Tight white blouse almost coming undone at the seams paired with a dark pencil skirt and sky-high patent leather heels.
She rounded the pole, leaning her sweet softly curved body against it.
I watched like the men down on the floor did.
Completely mesmerized. Fully captivated as she worked each and every button of that blouse off.
Exposing inch after inch of creamy pale skin my hands ached to touch.
I swallowed as I could imagine the men watching her did, too.
She danced and let her hair loose, every movement more confident, surer of herself as she came to life.
Fuck me, it was why she was so fucking great out on stage.
It was like watching someone gain their confidence right in front of your eyes.
It was why I called her my little flower.
I still remembered the first time she came out that first day she hit the stage.
Wobbly legged, looking like the world was about to eat her alive, terrified of what she had to do, and so damn innocent it dripped right off her pores.
That air of innocence still clung to her, but as I watched her take that blouse off and was only left in an almost sheer red bra, apart the lace hearts that covered her areolas, she had blossomed.
Her hands glided up and down her chest, teasing everyone, bringing their eyes between her sternum and only highlighting the firm, round globes of her creamy breasts, tracing them down the waistline of the formfitting pencil skirt.
She looked out, and it felt like she was staring right at me, right into the center of my soul as she started to tug down the skirt but then shook her head, a naughty little smile gracing her lips.
I sat up and licked my lips as she danced, moving her body around the pole, teasing the eyes on her before she took the glasses off, looking at the crowd over her shoulder before bringing the leg of the frames between her red painted lips. Lips I was dying to taste.
My hands gripped the armrest of the chair as I watched the show she put on. I was so fucking hard only a couple of tugs would get me there, but there was no way I was going to jerk off in my brother’s office.
Carefully pulling the stretchy, tight material of the skirt high up her thighs before dropping down to the ground, Maryanne rose, and this time when she started to dip down, with her back to the crowd, she pulled her skirt off.
Slowly.
There was no denying how very aware she was of the attention she was getting, showing off that plump, smackable ass and smooth thighs.
I didn’t need sound in the security live stream when she stood and turned.
The deep sound of applause as she stood in matching red high-cut panties that outlined her pussy and smooth-as-fuck skin was enough to get me to my feet.
I wanted to go out there, pull her off that fucking stage, and bring her back here, back anywhere I could hide her and protect her and keep her all to myself.
Just as I talked myself down from doing just that, I noticed it. Someone tossed something at her and then again. Some fucking guy was throwing something onto the stage, and I watched the moment it hit her.
Are those… coins?
She flinched, and white-hot heat rushed through my veins as I saw red.
A ferocity of something fierce hit me like a goddamn tidal wave.
Someone out there was throwing shit at her!
She flinched again and again. Some dumbass thought that it was okay to not only do that shit but to do it to her.
To my little flower. My chest rose and fell.
I caught the way Maryanne looked out, probably searching for the bouncers, the men in charge of keeping her safe who were god only knew where.
Not that I stopped to think about where they could be.
Ruled by pure primal instinct, need to protect what was mine pounded in my veins and flowed through my blood.
I opened my brother’s office door, my steps intentional as I headed straight to the main stage.
Without looking anywhere, laser-focused on reaching her, I somehow managed to get there before the damn bouncers even noticed what was happening.
The drunk guy was still tossing quarters.
Yelling stupid-ass shit as his friends smirked like assholes.
They might have been shaking their heads, but they didn’t try to stop him.
I headed directly to him, his eyes wide when reached him, and because I was too fucking focused on stopping whatever threat there could be out there that could hurt her, my fist swung back and punched him. Hard.
My knuckles burned, but I swung again and then again. I was like an animal unleashed. I heard something crack, and I wasn’t sure if it was me or him, but I didn’t care. I picked the stupid motherfucker up by the collar of his tacky golf shirt.
“What the fuck, man?!” The man had the nerve to look scared and shocked.
“You think throwing coins is fun? Huh?” I asked, shaking the asshole. Reaching behind me, I grabbed a handful of fucking… were those nickels? I growled. The cheap bastard! I shook my head, my nose flared.
“You like this? Huh?” I tossed them at his stupid, now very red face. I reached for another handful. “You like that? That feel good?” The coins bounced off his stupid face.
“Fuck you,” he grunted, kicking his legs. I felt two people come up behind me, but I knew it wasn’t his friends.
“We got him, Mr. Porter,” Domingo, one of the newer bouncers, said, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. For a beat, I ignored him and leaned forward.
“If I ever see you in here again, I won’t stop at tossing coins in your face.
I’m gonna shove them up where the sun don’t shine like my very own goddamn vending machine, and I won’t stop until you start puking them up,” I threatened quietly enough for only his ears and no one else’s.
“And then I’m going to skin you alive and let you fucking bleed out like the pig you are and let the fucking animals in the desert take care of you. ”
It wasn’t a threat but a fucking promise.
I stepped back and nodded at Domingo, who by the look on his face might have overheard bits and pieces.
I turned around and headed straight to the stage, where Maryanne stood shaking, looking at the money on the ground like she was torn between giving up her dignity to bend and pick up every fucking cent or running away.
I didn’t give her time to choose.
I jumped up on the stage, took off my suit jacket, covered her trembling body with it, and picked her up in my arms bridal style.
“Hollis.” Her pretty, red-stained lips wobbled, and I pressed my lips to her forehead.
“I got you, little flower,” I vowed and stomped my way off the stage without looking back.