Sixty Nine (Payne Brothers Romance Book 4) Page 2

  Twenty-two weeks. Twenty-two nights together.

  Twenty-two dances.

  Twenty-two touches.

  …Twenty-two cold showers.

  And so many more nights waking up alone. So many undignified and desperate wishes for more than what V was willing to offer.

  He called me dangerous.

  He had no idea.

  The song swelled, and I allowed it to take me in its rhythm. V watched, just as enthralled now as he was the first time I’d danced for him.

  “What am I to you?” I whispered.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Trouble.”

  “Everyone assumes I’m trouble. I hoped you’d know me better by now.”

  He thought about it for a long, torturous moment. The whisky touched his tongue once more, and all I could imagine were his soft, tasty kisses.

  “You, Glory...” He sighed. “You are a living, breathing, captivating sin.”

  I’d take it as a compliment. “And yet, you don’t seem to be very afraid of me.”

  “You don’t have to fear sin to know it.”

  That didn’t stop the music or the dancing, the words or the promises, the desire or the torment. I tickled my soft curves with my fingers and stepped a little closer.

  “If I’m so bad for you, why are you here?” I asked.

  “Because I lost my soul a long time ago.”

  “What a coincidence. It seems I’ve lost my heart.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “You deserve a fair share of the credit.”

  His eyes darkened. “Then how do I fix you?”

  Was he being sincere? Maybe.

  I laughed anyway. “Weren’t you the one who said we meet only for fun?”

  “Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  I allowed the skirt to slip over my hips. The lacey white panties were more his speed. V was classy. Champagne and roses, not G-strings and pasties.

  “I think we have more than enough fun,” I said. “And entirely too much mystery.”

  “You seem to like the mystery.”

  I’d like solving it more. This man was as incomprehensible as he was sexy. Maybe that’s what made him so alluring. So forbidden.

  I didn’t know his last name.

  I didn’t know where he lived. Where he came from. What he did with his life.

  And I certainly didn’t know why a man so passionate, kind, and gentle had ended up so lost in my strip club. And I had no idea what drew him to me.

  And that’s the way he liked it.

  He’d wanted nothing more than simple nights of simple pleasures. A dance. A kiss. A few naughty words. Never anything meaningful. Never anything that might have revealed who we actually were.

  At first, the sensual secrets excited me. How wicked was it to meet with a mysterious man—dark, sexy, and alluring?

  But now, I wanted more than a teasing kiss and his name on my lips. I needed him. All of him. To understand him, feel him, be a part of him.

  But that was impossible.

  A woman couldn’t figure out a man who didn’t recognize himself. She also couldn’t please a man when he had no idea what he needed to be satisfied.

  But dancing was easy. It spoke the words that went unsaid and promised the pleasure he was too afraid to give.

  The music led me to his chair. His fingers clutched the glass of whiskey. What would break first—the tumbler or the seam of his pants?

  He wasn’t ashamed of the bulge. Few men were when I danced. The difference was other men could only look. But if V had asked…

  I’d give him everything.

  Every last inch of me.

  But he’d refused my advances while delighting me with every other pleasure.

  The dip in the music was a perfect opportunity to ditch the skirt. A bump of my hip, and it lowered. A second sway, and the leather peeled over my booty and shimmied down my thighs. Down, down, down. The song revealed my toned legs, as dark as our sins and as soft as our whispers.

  But the panties stayed. Those were always his to remove. Not his rule, but mine.

  A man like V prided himself on restraint and willpower, so a girl had to get her kicks somewhere.

  And I loved watching his labored breathing and grazing the hard, throbbing bulge in his pants as he removed the last secrets from me.

  Skip the oysters. Forget the champagne. Power was the only aphrodisiac I needed.

  The song skipped, and a new beat filled the room. Couldn’t hear it over my own heartbeat anyway. I made my own rhythm and edged onto his lap.

  He sat perfectly still, content as I slid over his legs. I straddled him with a delicious smile. My legs tucked against the arms of the chair, and his eyes feasted on my every curve, and his fingers tickled everywhere else.

  V was the only man allowed the privilege of touching me during a dance.

  His grip tightened around my waist as I ground against his jeans. Every part of this man was hard. His muscle. His arousal. His guarded secrets.

  No man had ever bested me, but no man ever made me crave a single kiss, touch, or word as this mysterious stranger. Until this quiet, complicated, absolutely infuriating man.

  Did he know? Did he care?

  Did he realize how my dancing slowed, how my fingers tightened around his shoulders as my hips bounced against his?

  Probably not.

  And if he did, he wasn’t the type to gloat.

  We both wanted this, but which one of us would be strong enough to withstand the desire before breaking?

  Especially since I’d already fallen to pieces in his arms.

  His lips grazed mine. It wasn’t a surrender to welcome his commanding kiss. The flick of his tongue dazzled me with shivers. I arched only to break from his unrepentant embrace.

  A dirty trick.

  I did it to thrust my chest to his face, to let the heavy, beautiful swell of my breasts tease him with the glint of the tiny metal studs, piercing my nipples. Mission accomplished. His skilled hands traced my spine. Within moments he’d seized me in his calloused palms.

  I was a handful, in more ways than one. When I wanted to accentuate the girls, it was downright obscene. Maybe they were too big. Maybe my pebbled, hardened nipples tightened a little too much. But they’d earned me a hell of a lot of money, and there was very little about my body that could’ve shamed me.

  Especially when V hummed in delight as the chocolate chip nub grazed his lips.

  This wasn’t part of my usual lap dance, but V wasn’t my usual clientele. Every touch, every kiss, every squeeze tempted us to shred that last bit of inhibition and finally devour each other.

  His kiss turned to a bite. Nothing aggressive. Just a tender, consuming nibble that shattered me whole. He slipped my nipple into his mouth, sucking with a swirling tongue. Then the other. The quick, ravenous taste sizzled to my core. The heat swelled, and the softness of his lips battled the rough stubble of his cheek.

  Many men had appreciated my body. V was the only one who worshiped it.

  He leaned forward to take more of me within his mouth, but I backed away from his lips. I tempted him with the subtle sway of my shoulders, trembling my heavy chest. My dark nipples strayed just beyond his eager tongue.

  But he let me go. V wasn’t a man who chased.

  I crept onto the chair and planted both feet beside him. He held me steady as I rose, his hands gently stroking my knees, my thigh. I stood on the chair, before him, his eyes at panty level.

  And he still didn’t break.

  My fingers trailed over my skin, one hand gripping my warming breast. The other traveling down, down, down, over my navel into the waistband of those lacey panties. A quick swipe of my hand brushed that sensitive spot that ached for more than my own fingertip.

  V watched, his green eyes a dark, solemn window into his soul.

  Empty.

  I’d never met a man so perfect, and yet…so broken.

  His eyes studied the thin barrier of silk that shielded
me from his hunger. “You sure know how to entertain me, Glory.”

  I sighed. “Who says this is entertainment? I’m done waiting. Tired of all the teasing. Sometimes a girl has to take matters into her own hands.” I patted the panties with my perfectly manicured French tips. “Well…into her own fingers.”

  The panties slipped aside. V stiffened, a hunger heating his words.

  “Maybe you’re impatient,” he said.

  For twenty-two weeks, I’d been impatient.

  Now? I was desperate, hating him and wanting him and aching for his touch.

  “It’s been a long day, V. I’ve had to deal with tantrum toddlers–on and off the stage.” I arched an eyebrow. “I was hoping tonight would be better.”

  “All you gotta do is ask.”

  I had to do a little more than that. Apparently, I needed to drag him, kicking and screaming, from the bed and into a conversation.

  Exactly what I swore I’d never do when we began our meetings.

  I teased my fingers over my slit. The groan was for my own enjoyment, not his satisfaction. Like all pleasure though, V owned it. Just like he owned my thoughts, my desires, my dreams.

  Everything.

  Was it possible to resent a man who offered me everything and demanded nothing in return?

  His lips caressed my thigh. The scruff on his chin scratched against my soft skin, but I leaned against his kiss. His breath tickled hot over the crest of my legs. I covered my sensitive bud with the naughty wagging of my finger.

  “Like I said…I’m tired of teasing.” I rolled my hips just before his mouth, close enough for a tongue to flick, but too far for a lover’s kiss. “This is all for me.”

  “My kind of dance.”

  It wasn’t. I didn’t know much about him, but this wasn’t his usual sin. I was not his sort of girl, and this definitely wasn’t his preferred seduction.

  And yet, he met me anyway. Week after week. Night after night. And I had no idea what drew him to my bed, but not into my arms.

  Then again, who was complaining?

  With a single finger, I poked the center of his forehead and pushed him back into his chair. “Not today, V. You missed your chance. I’ll take my pleasure without you.”

  His eyes focused on the part of me he could no longer have. “Seems a harsh punishment.”

  “I’ve always been strict.”

  “Only if you’re punishing yourself.”

  Oh, I would, but it wouldn’t be any worse than the regret I felt for letting him leave this hotel room.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m a survivor.”

  “I’m not. How do I earn your forgiveness?”

  “It’s not that easy.” I delighted myself with the quick circle of my fingers. An excellent way to de-stress after a long night of dancing, work, and thinking of nothing but him. “I require a fairly heavy penance…one I’m not sure you’re ready to give.”

  He smirked. “Real Old Testament, huh?”

  “Start building the ark, big boy.”

  His voice rumbled, amused. “Can I interest you in an apple instead?”

  “I’m sweeter than any fruit you’ve ever tasted, V.”

  “But just as damning.”

  “Good thing I know a way you can redeem yourself.”

  His eyes darkened. “I can’t be redeemed. You shouldn’t try.”

  I teased myself, offering him a tiny whimper as my fingertip danced before his eyes. “V, I am a one-way ticket to paradise.”

  “Paradise doesn’t exist.”

  “Have you ever searched for it?”

  He went quiet. “Every day of my life.”

  “Ever find it?”

  “No. But I learned something more valuable.”

  My finger dipped into my folds. I shivered. “And what’s that?”

  “Why worry about eternity when there’s so much beauty in front of me?”

  He grunted, moving quick to grab me around the waist. I protested, but he crushed me against the strength of his chest. The heat of his body suffocated me with the promise of every touch, every embrace, every aching desire that coursed through my veins as I trembled in his presence.

  He was the only man I’d ever allow to handle me in that way, and I struggled against my own need to surrender to him.

  No sense in making it easy on him. He hadn’t made any of this easy on me.

  V positioned me before the floor-length mirror, pressing in behind me, an arm securing my waist. Slow, delicate presses of his fingertips caressed my dark skin. I stared into the mirror, but the room was too dim to see anything but the handsome man cloaked in shadow.

  His expression darkened, but he deserved none of that sorrow.

  And yet he spoke with a terrifying honesty.

  “I’ve never met a woman so beautiful.” He whispered in disbelief. “You are more than lovely. You’re everything perfect in this wretched world. You bring me to my knees as easily as you could lead me to Heaven.”

  The hand moved down, his fingers digging into my hip. So close to a very dangerous part of me.

  “Keep talking.” I arched an eyebrow. “I’ve never been complemented to orgasm before.”

  His voice roughened. “I don’t say it enough. You are my only path, my endless pleasure, and every sin in between.”

  My reflection stood stoic, but my heart pounded with a relentless fury. The words were meant to flatter me. V was serious, offering a solemn, fierce confession that never should’ve been revealed to a troublemaker like me.

  “You must have your choice of women.” My question burned with as much curiosity as it did in vanity. Who else in this world could please him more than me? “A man like you must have his own secrets.”

  “What does that mean?”

  His hand drifted lower, so very close to the heat pulsing between my thighs. But I didn’t look away. I locked eyes with him in the mirror, daring him to touch me in all the places he longed to explore.

  “Look at you,” I said. “I’m sure you’re a heartbreaker, V.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  The sadness returned, as constant a companion in this relationship as the man himself. For so long I’d tried to comfort him, to ease his pain, to share in whatever secret so burdened his soul.

  But he’d refused. Never spoke of it. Never acknowledged it.

  But it was always there. Hurting him. Destroying him.

  Chasing him away.

  V needed help, and he’d never ask it of me.

  That made me fight harder to offer him some form of peace.

  “What happened to you?” I whispered.

  He shook his head. A warning. The question was too personal—against the rules.

  I didn’t care.

  “You’re so lost,” I said.

  “I find myself in you.”

  “And you’re a bad liar.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re always lying to me.”

  “Maybe I lie to everyone?” His voice strained. “Maybe my entire life is a lie?”

  I fell against him, welcoming the heat of his hand against the swell of my breast. “Then you would be a far better liar than you are.”

  His touch teased. Always gentle. Always adoring. He avoided looking in the mirror at himself.

  “I don’t recognize myself anymore,” he said.

  “Does anyone?”

  His grip tightened. So did the bulge in his pants, pressing against the small of my back. “I like who I am when I’m with you.”

  Finally, a little truth. “But we’re only together for a few hours each week.”

  “That’s enough.”

  “For what?”

  “To keep me strong.”

  Maybe it was. Once. When we first met. When I pulled him from the darkness and earned that first kiss.

  But now?

  What did I need to do to save this man?

  I held his gaze as
my hand slipped under the panties. The quick excitement built within my core. The naughty stroke of my finger crippled me with shivers and a sudden surge of bravery. Enough courage for me to say how I felt.

  At least, as much as I was willing to admit.

  “We could meet more.” I didn’t ask it, demand it, or expect anything. “See each other more than once a week.”

  His hand gripped mine, squeezing my wrist. I’d overstepped our boundaries. Not that this man would ever get angry.

  His reflection slowed, and his pale hand caressing my ebony skin. He followed my fingers down, brushing aside my panties to find that waiting heat. His skilled fingers flicked once, twice, and then found perfection within my petals. I sunk against him, shimmying my thighs to the music, his touch, the quick pleasure only V could offer.

  “Once a week is enough.” His whisper burned against my ear. “If I had you that often, who knows what sort of man I might become.”

  “Happy?”

  His finger slowed, but it didn’t pull away. “We agreed to these rules.”

  I tapped my boots against the floor, clicking the six-inch heel. “Do I look like a girl who follows the rules?”

  “No names. No complications. No secrets.” His arms tightened over my midsection, allowing him to quicken his assault over my wetness. “You know what this is. You know what you wanted to be.”

  I dared him with an arched eyebrow, my makeup heavy and dark. Sexy. A temptress with a smile.

  “We could have more,” I said.

  “No.”

  I respected his limits, but he needed to tolerate my curiosity. The question panted from between my plump lips.

  “Why don’t you fuck me?”

  His voice never changed, only ever rumbled strong and composed, even when a woman offered everything to him.

  “I’m not a man who fucks.”

  Obviously. “Then why haven’t you made love to me?”

  He knew me better than that. “You’re not a girl who makes love.”

  “First time for everything.”

  I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but it wasn’t my style. I turned around and batted his hand away from my panties and poked at his chest. The hard-packed muscles deserved more than the tip of my nail. I flattened my palm against his pecs.

  Why did our hearts beat in rhythm?

  Who was this man?

  “Why is everything so serious with you?” I asked. “Everything is so monumental. Life-changing. You're trapped in your own imagined prison.”