Delicious (22 page)

“Where is she?” Tyler took at the rumpled bed, at Luc’s disheveled appearance, at Alyssa’s ripped garments strewn across the floor. Then he gritted his teeth. “Goddamn it, did you hurt her? Where the fuck is she?”

How the hell did he answer that? “I didn’t hurt her physically.”

“But you broke her heart, you sanctimonious bastard.”

Tyler hauled back, making a meaty fist. Luc saw it coming a mile away and did nothing. The right cross was a killer, and his head slammed back and pain seared its way through his head, rattling his brain.

He rubbed his sore jaw and glared at Tyler. “If it’s any consolation, the minute she left, it was like being hit by a semi. She barreled over me, and I feel like roadkill.”

“Good. Alyssa puts on a damn good front, but deep down, she’s fragile. She doesn’t show her emotions to anyone, but since you came here, she’s been wearing them all over her face. And she looks fucking desolate.”

Luc hung his head. He’d treated her like a whore, had sex with her to get her out of his system, accused her of sleeping around. He’d been astounded by her intelligence. It had never occurred to him that a stripper could complete advanced degrees. With any other woman, he would simply have admired her accomplishments, not been shocked. He’d all but forced his way into her body and tried to push his way into her heart with no intent to stay around and give himself back to her.

He deserved every bit of his broken heart and more.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Damn straight!” Tyler snarled. “I love that woman, and you shit on her. Do you know how hard it’s been to stand back and watch?”

Incredibly difficult, Luc was certain. He hadn’t liked Tyler kissing her, but if he’d been sidelined while being forced to watch another man seduce and mistreat her, he would have gone completely insane and ripped the bastard’s head off. Suddenly, he admired Tyler’s restraint.

“At this point, I can only say I’m sorry. I’ll cook and keep to myself until I leave Thursday.”

“Do that. But now we have to find Alyssa. Sadie saw her running backstage a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out.”

Luc closed his eyes. He’d thought he couldn’t feel worse. Wrong. Knowing he’d hurt her—again—was like dragging a sharp, rusty blade through his heart.

Tyler got in his face, clearly not finished with his tirade. “And after we find her, it’s open season, asshole. If you cause her another instant of pain, I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart with my bare hands.”

Normally, Luc didn’t take threats well. This . . . He just nodded.

“When she left, did she say where she was headed?”

“No.” She hadn’t said anything at all.

Tyler hesitated, jaw clenched. “Peter was in the guest area around the stage fifteen minutes ago. He didn’t leave; he’s not in the john—but he’s MIA. So is Alyssa.”

Fear jolted Luc from his stupor. He bolted toward the door. “We need to find her.”

Giving him a curt nod, Tyler sprinted out of the room and down the stairs, Luc on his heels.

“Could Sadie tell where she was going?”

The bouncer shook his head. “She’s checking some of the guest areas now, to make sure Alyssa isn’t mingling. We’ll check her office.”

She would go there, Luc realized. Upset and teary, she’d want privacy, a soundproof room. A door with a lock.

Luc had a bad feeling about this.

“Run!” he shouted at Tyler.

Seconds later, they stood at the door of her office. Closed and locked. Fear clenched Luc’s heart. He and Tyler both pounded on the door, shouting her name.

No one answered.

“WHAT are you doing here?” Alyssa demanded, standing.

Even in her red stiletto boots, she couldn’t equal Peter’s height, but she wasn’t about to give him the psychological advantage of letting him tower over her sitting form. Still, the frat boy was a bruiser, at least six-two, probably a good two hundred thirty pounds of muscle. Young and drunk and horny.

And she’d left her purse with her pepper spray in her bedroom upstairs.

Calm. Reason with him
.

Peter just laughed and started shucking his shirt. He looked at her with a lascivious violence that made her flesh crawl.

“Getting some of that ass you’re constantly flashing in front of me. You’re always letting that bouncer put his hands on you, and I know you’re putting out for that chef who’s been your shadow this week. Now it’s my turn.”

Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You know about Luc?”

Had he been the one writing the notes?

Peter scoffed. “Hell, yes. The way you two look at each other, it’s obvious. Besides, I was upstairs, right outside your door, twenty minutes ago when he was giving it to you good. Baby.” He smiled and unfastened his jeans. “I’ll fuck you better.”

Fear and disgust made her stomach turn. But she had to stay calm. Get herself out of here. She would not be his victim.

“I am not having sex with you. I don’t fuck customers, especially not snot-nosed frat boys who think they’re entitled to whatever they want. So turn around, open the door—”

He charged her, grabbed her arm, and twisted it behind her back. “I’m man enough to make you cream and scream. I don’t take orders from women, especially sluts like you. So shut your fucking mouth, open your pretty thighs, and make yourself useful.”

Alyssa’s stomach jumped, and adrenaline charged her system. She wriggled to get free, but Peter tightened his grip on her arm and he wrenched it up behind her back. Wincing, she stepped up on her tiptoes. If he forced the appendage up any more, he’d pull her shoulder from the socket or break it.
Shit!

“Nice boots,” he commented. “They’ll look hot while I fuck you. Now, what’s under that skirt?”

Using her arm to hold her in place, Peter shoved her forward and pushed her face onto her desk. Pain exploded across her cheek when she hit the unyielding surface. Another jab slashed its way across her midsection, on the right side of her rib cage, as the corner of her desk stabbed her. She gasped for her next breath.

While she was still reeling from the pain, Peter used the opportunity to flip her skirt up, expose her thong, and grope her. She shuddered.

“Nice. This is prime, grade-A ass. I know you’re going to make the wait worth it.”

He ripped her thong off, and the cold air hit her newly exposed skin. She shivered.

This was happening. Really happening.
God. Oh, God
. She had to stop it. She would
not
be Peter’s victim. She had to elbow his ribs or stomp on his instep. Something . . . He had her immobilized with his threat to break her arm, and she’d rather let him than submit, but if she was going to sacrifice the use of a limb in battle, she had to make sure her action counted.

Peter bent over her body, curling his fist in her hair and smashing her sore cheek against the desk again. Finally, he released her arm, but kept it wedged between them with his body. Still, it was an opportunity, and she needed to use it.

His hand landed on the small of her back; then he ran a finger down the crack of her ass, lingering on her back entrance. “Ever take a man here? Yeah, I’ll bet you have. Whores like you love it kinky and raw. I’m going to fuck you here for sure.”

She heard slurping noises; then Peter was pressing a wet finger into her ass. She shuddered, trying to block the reality out, but the biting pain didn’t allow that. This was getting serious. Fast.

“Ah, yeah. That’s fucking hot. I can’t wait to get back here and go for a hard ride.” He extracted the finger. “But I gotta see those tits first.”

Alyssa expected him to turn her over on her back, give her an opportunity to get her arm free, give her legs more range of motion. Instead, he clenched his fist in the thin cotton at the back of her neck and ripped the garment down and off. To her horror, he aced one-handed bra removal. Once he yanked the garment out from under her, her bare, sore nipples hit the cold desk. She hissed.

He pinned her wrist between their bodies again, and she felt her bra wrap around it. Then he groped around for the other. Damn, he was going to bind her with her own clothing. Hell, no. Never!

Not caring if he broke her arm or slipped it from its socket, she reached back. He had her face turned right, and her left hand was free, so she couldn’t see. She’d have one chance to score on this. Thank God she kept her fingernails sharp.

She reached back, aiming high and dead center. On the first try, she grabbed his balls. And squeezed mercilessly.

He grunted and tried to back off, but she held tight, edged off the desk, and turned to him.

“You bitch! I’ll fucking hurt you for that.”

Alyssa stood over his crouched form, anger pounding her. “I’ll hurt you first.”

She jammed her heel into his instep. Though he wore tennis shoes, she figured she’d made a bull’s-eye when he howled and began hopping on one foot. Then, just for fun, she twisted his balls.

He screamed like a little girl. And she smiled.

Suddenly, he reared up and roared, his fist coming at her like a barreling semi. She feinted out of the way and released him, running for the door. He was on her before she could take a step, pulling her by the hair to face him, then shoving her down again. The back of her skull hit the desk with an audible
crack
. Pain exploded through her head, and she gasped.

That wasn’t enough for Peter. He made sure her head banged the concrete floor as he dragged her to it. An aching band of abused nerves throbbed across her skull, in her temples. She felt sick. But then he grabbed her hand and took her forearm in the other—and jerked. She heard a snap and felt pain blast down to her hand, radiate through her wrist. She cried out, and he smiled.

“That was for grabbing my balls, bitch. Now, lie still and take it like the slut you are.”

Roughly, he grabbed her arms and restrained them above her head. She whimpered against the pain.

Psycho. He was completely mental. And she had no idea how she was going to get free as he pinned her body to the ground and worked his hips between her thighs, his hard cock bare between them.
Oh, God
. . .

Alyssa knew the nightmare she was about to endure.

Despite knowing her office was soundproof and it would do no good, she screamed.

Peter took his cock in his hand and pushed against her swollen opening. “That’s it. I like the screamers. You’ll scream a lot for me before I’m done.”

A moment later, she heard pounding on the door, and Peter stilled. “Fuck!”

Shaking his head, he reared back and tried to stab his way into her body. A moment later, the door burst open.

Tyler and Luc charged Peter like madmen. Her bouncer grabbed him by the hair and the ass of his jeans and threw him across the room. Luc ran after him and kicked the frat boy in the ribs, then followed with ferocious punches that made Peter scream. Tyler joined in, grabbing his hair and slamming his face into the concrete.

She drifted out for a moment until two sets of feet skidded to a stop beside her.

“I’m calling nine-one-one.”

Luc sounded concerned. And angry. She frowned. Why? He didn’t really care about her. Then again, he wasn’t mean. He wouldn’t like to see people hurt.

Afraid. And cold. As much as she hated to admit, Alyssa knew she needed help. Someone she
knew
cared about her.

“Tyler,” she cried, her voice broken.

“I’m here, baby.”

Carefully, Tyler gathered her against his warm body. She choked against the pain when he jostled her wrist, but finally he stilled.
Ah, warmth
.

“Paramedics are on the way,” Luc assured her, holding the phone to his ear. “Police, too. Peter is out cold.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Tyler demanded softly.

“H-he . . .” She wasn’t talking coherently between tears. “Rape—”

“Ah, damn . . . ” Tyler pressed his finger to her lips. “Don’t think about it now. It’s over.”

“Not again.” Her voice trembled, her insides shredding at the memories of Peter hovering over her, overpowering her, forcing his way inside her. “N-never again.”

Identical looks of shock and horror crossed Tyler’s and Luc’s faces as the edges of her consciousness began to turn black. The truth dawned on Luc’s tortured face. She closed her eyes, hating the fact he now understood her eternal shame.