Brutally Beautiful (17 page)

A woman snagged his attention. She had hair like Gen’s, glossy and rich, inviting him to sink his hands into it and use it to drag her close for his kiss. But Gen would be holed up in her apartment, waiting on results. Already he missed her badly. But as Mick, he’d become a target, and he couldn’t risk her life. He’d never recover from that.

This girl might do as a substitute; at least watching her gave him some ease. She sank down, spreading her legs wide, keeping her feet close to her ass, gyrating. How did women do that, especially in high heels? This girl was rocking a pair of black strappy things with heels. Tailor made for a woman to trample a man under her dainty feet. The slight hint of danger, of pain, made his cock twitch.

Maybe he could enjoy a few uncomplicated fucks before he finally shuffled off the mortal coil. Shit, poetry again. The thought of fucking anyone but Gen filled him with profound disinterest. Only if he imagined the girl on stage was Gen did it work for him. At the thought, his cock rose to her command, not yet fully erect, but if he carried on with his daydream, he’d have to relieve his pain before the evening ended.

The woman stood in one smooth movement, wiggling her barely clad ass. She wore shiny black panties, not a thong, but they outlined the shape of her backside in luscious invitation. Then she bent over, showed the bulge of her pussy, and he grew a bit harder, tingles coursing through him. Surely he could have this moment before his life went to shit. Just five minutes, ten. Then he’d go home, get some sleep, and do what he had to save the people he loved. That included Larry too, because in his line of work he couldn’t afford to associate himself with lowlifes like Mick O’Donnell.

The woman turned, her hair falling over her face as she glanced down, looking for her pole. The shiny silver rod stretched in front of her, a slim phallus she could use to perform acrobatics and get herself off on. Her chin was delicately pointed, like Gen’s. Her bra matched her panties and curved around gorgeous breasts, full, with a roundness that made his mouth water.

She lifted her chin and stared out into the audience.

Fuck. It
was
her.

* * * *

Gen saw him the minute her gaze strayed to the bar area. The girls had told her they’d seen him at the bar. This was her moment, her choice, the place she had to be to show Nick she wouldn’t let him go. Whatever his name, whatever he’d done, she knew what he was now. She didn’t love Mick O’Donnell; she was in love with the man he’d become—Nick Taylor. She’d seen the photo of a man who looked like Nick, but didn’t have the humanity, the honesty she saw every time she looked into Nick’s eyes. Even if he went back, changed his name, he couldn’t erase the person he’d grown into over the last five years.

This was her way of telling him. If she went to him, he’d reject her again, and if he did that here and now, what the fuck did it matter what she did, where she went?

Now, in public, he’d have to accept her or leave her. Bennick could have more spies here and word would get back to him, she was sure. Telling the bosses? Sure, she still wanted to do that, but she’d do everything she could to cover Nick, and when it was done, she’d follow him. Her job here was done, whatever she did. Bennick was right; he could tell them she slept with Nick, that she was complicit. That would be enough to blacken her.

Maybe she was being mean, forcing him to protect her, but without that he’d just disappear, and she didn’t want that. Wouldn’t allow it. Terrified that he’d already made plans, she’d decided she had to act, and fast.

Concentrate, Gen.

About a year ago she’d taken pole-dancing lessons when the trend hit the city and dance studios began to see the possibilities. A great workout too. And she enjoyed the slightly risqué element, the idea of performing, of displaying her body. Nothing
slightly
about her show now.

About twenty men sat in the club. No women yet. Too early, or maybe they were busy somewhere else. Having a meal, getting up enough liquid courage to come in here. Good, because the thought of a packed room baying for her to strip daunted her. She’d be a hypocrite if she didn’t admit this whole situation turned her on. Even the risk, which was stupid high but burned inside her like a living flame.

She knew which pole was assigned to her because it had a number at the back, near the top. She’d copied the other women, taking a wipe from the box at the back and cleaning it, because this pole would become her best friend soon. She didn’t have to, but the double cleansing gave the girls more confidence. The freedom to claim their areas. One or two girls moved among the audience, offering lap dances, and she wondered if she should have done it that way. No, that wouldn’t work, because if he could get to her, he’d stop her. Besides, not all the lap dancers stripped. They wore corsets, sexy bra and panty sets. She wanted naked.

She began her dance, showing her black-clad body off as best she could, avoiding looking in his direction. A small demon of anger still niggled inside her. She would not be sidelined. It wasn’t going to happen. This would prove it, this performance.

Gen curled her body around the pole as if it could give her infinite pleasure. The first time they’d met here, he’d flaunted his cock at her. Time to flaunt for him.

Lifting one leg, she stretched it high. She couldn’t do the splits, but she could come damn close, and still wearing her panties, she dared to do it. Perhaps, when she was naked, she’d do it again. Show him everything he wanted and what he’d miss if he threw her away now.

Some of the girls were performing acrobatics she couldn’t hope to emulate, but she could do her own thing. She slid one hand around her back to the clasp of her bra, and cupped one breast with the other hand, teasing the audience. She’d even attracted the attention of a few of the men sitting at the front. The novelty of the new, she assumed. Holding her breath, she unclipped the garment and ventured a glance at the bar.

He was watching her, his face expressionless, his eyes gleaming. He was angry and turned on, and she loved it. That quick glance spurred her to do more. She let the bra fall.

She thought he’d explode, either with desire or fury. No longer sure, she shook off her worries and cupped her breasts, rubbing them against the pole. The cool surface felt good, stimulated her skin even better when she rubbed her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. They hardly needed hardening. She bent in time to the music, an incredibly sexy Beyoncé track, stuck her ass in the air, and let her breasts dangle. She rotated her hips and heard someone say, “Work it, baby.”

Oh yes, she’d work it. She straightened slowly, lifted one knee against the pole, and pushed her pussy against the metal, giving herself a little relief when her clit had something to rub against.

Now.

She turned her back in a sudden, decisive movement, clutched her ass, rotated again, then back, her breasts swaying. A few appreciative yells and whoops drove her further. She had no idea which girl they were aimed at, but she decided to take them, and lifted her hands to her hair, raising it in a gesture of abandon, before sliding her hands back down. Either side of her, the professionals were performing acrobatics, most of them naked now. Next to them, her amateur approach seemed to be attracting its share of attention. A sense of pride suffused her, warming her and giving her the courage to carry on.

She slid one hand down her body, pausing to tweak a nipple before circling her navel with a teasing finger and then farther down, slipping inside her panties. She’d chosen bikini briefs, but silky thin so the shape of her fingers and the way she pushed one finger over her clit were easily visible. She let her mouth fall open in a gasp, then found a member of the audience who was watching her with panting avidity. Amateurs obviously turned him on. What was even better, she could see Nick over his head, still glowering, though she couldn’t tell now if it was anger or arousal, or a stimulating mixture of both.

She drew out her finger, brought it to her mouth, tasted it, then licked it, making a big deal of the juice she was lapping up, teasing them.
Don’t you want to do this?

Time for the big reveal. Tucking her thumbs either side of her panties, she slid them down, slowly at first, teasing with the possibility of changing her mind, then down in a swift movement. Keeping her legs straight, she bent from the waist and stepped out of the flimsy garment, pausing to toss it aside.

A sense of panic swept over her, making her pulse quicken, her breath shorten. Mingled excitement and terror coursed through her, shooting her adrenaline levels to an all-time high.
Come on, Gen.

She straightened, revealing her naked pussy. She shaved it just before she came, and she still felt rawly bare. Getting in the cab to the club, she’d had the feeling that everyone who glanced at her knew she was bare under her panties.

Now she was displaying it to anyone who wanted to look.

Her pussy lips moistened with the thought, and she had nowhere to go, nothing to hide. Why try? A spirit of recklessness infused her, and she lifted her chin, stared down her nose at the audience. Only then did she see that the place by the bar was empty. He’d gone.

Shit, she’d lost. She turned around, kept moving her hips while she took a breath. What did she have to lose? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. She bent over, showed them the back view before turning, legs spread to display the hard, red nub of her clit. She was aroused, and nobody seeing her could doubt it. Her pussy was glistening with juice and the tops of her thighs dampened with the overflow.

She writhed, twisting her hips to give the audience an eyeful of her slit, working her booty like never before. Let them look, let them want, because afterward she was going home alone. Right now, she was theirs.

She spun, lifting her arms and bundling her hair up again, opened her legs to show them more. Then she turned back, hooked a leg around the pole and swung, one arm holding tightly to keep her balance, the other sweeping back.

As she circled, her hand hit something hard, and her attention went to whomever she’d struck, an apology on her lips. Her apology dried on her lips. Before her, blocking the view from the rest of the audience, stood her erstwhile lover, and from the expression on his handsome face, her future lover too. He caught her under her arms, lifted her, and carried her off to the hoots and whistles from the crowd. He must have vaulted up to the relatively low stage area while she was facing the other way. That could get Odell into trouble, because she already knew touching was forbidden between client and performer here in the main room.

Her protests faded as she stared into his face and saw the determination, the burning passion that tinted his cheekbones pink, darkened his eyes to remorseless near black. His mouth had straightened to a tight line. Until he bent his head and kissed her in a ruthless way that promised only one thing in her near future. He explored her mouth like a man possessed, taking every part of it for his own, his hand covering her breast, giving her the contact she craved. That suited her. She’d grown desperate to feel a man’s hands on her, his body close. The rough texture of his denim shirt only made her want to rub herself against him like a cat begging for attention.

She didn’t look where he took her until he dumped her on a desk. Odell’s desk. Planting one hand on each inner thigh, he spread them wide, looked. “They can’t have you, not while you’re mine.” His voice had deepened to a rough growl, almost unidentifiable. “I’m fucking you now. Then I’m taking you home and fucking you some more.”

When she opened her mouth, he stopped her speaking by the simple method of kissing her, nipping her lower lip so she gasped at the small pinch of pain. By that time he’d got his pants unzipped and was rolling a condom over his hard, straining cock.

Then he drove into her, no pause, no respite. When he’d embedded to the hilt, he paused, glanced down at them. “I can see everything. Do you think the punters outside want to see this? I wonder if Odell has kept his security cameras on?”

“I don’t care,” she said, hearing that rough edge, new and dangerous and wonderful. “Let them look.” She leaned back, trusting him to hold her, to take her any way he wanted. And he did. Hard and fast and relentless, he fucked her to the edge of oblivion and beyond. He showed no gentleness, but she’d driven this dangerous man to the edge of madness, taking the biggest risk of her life, putting everything into one big gamble.

So far, so good.

Her orgasm ripped through her body. She didn’t know she was crying out until he said, “That’s it. Scream for me, baby. Keep screaming and take everything I give you. More.” He grunted as he shoved into her, holding her ass to impale her on his stiff, straining rod. It bored into her, driving deep until she thought he’d break her, and she didn’t give a damn.

He brought her up again, her heightened senses responding to his strength with feminine submission, letting him take her where he wanted, needed to. His silver belt buckle pressed against her hip when he slammed their bodies together, but the pin could have driven into her flesh for all she cared.

“Don’t stop,” she managed, on the brink of coming for a second time, every part of her body demanding release. If he pulled out now, that would be the worst torture imaginable. Sharp needles prickled her nerve endings. She didn’t know how she’d live, and her greatest anxiety in the whole world was if he stopped.

He kept her on the edge until she opened her mouth to beg him for release. Then he changed his angle of entry. Every part of her body blossomed for him. Like rain in the desert, she bloomed and spread, only dimly aware when he muttered something and shot his release inside her welcoming body.

This was what it should be like. Sex, fucking, making love—it was all the same thing, and this was it.

She rested against him, her cheek on his shoulder. He kissed her, gently this time, before he withdrew his cock and took care of the condom, bundling it in a handful of tissues before tossing it into a trashcan under the desk. He zipped himself up, still cradling her with one arm. “You heard what I said, didn’t you?”