Strife: Part Two (The Strife Series Book 2)

Strife

Part Two

SKY CORGAN

Text copyright 2015 by Sky Corgan.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

PEPPER

Tattoos. He's covered in them. His arms, his chest, his stomach.

Everything is done in black except for a tribal tattoo seemingly coming right out of his pants. I can imagine that the end of it leads to some detail pointing to his dick. It's the type of tattoo an arrogant prick would get—a guy who knows he has a delicious body. I try to focus on all of the other tattoos because that one is just too naughty. Roses and stars and writing in languages I can't even pretend to guess at. I'll never understand why people get tattoos that no one else can read. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of showing them off?

I stare blatantly, trying to distract myself from what my body is beginning to feel for him. If I look at him curiously, as a work of art instead of a very sexual human being grinding on me, then maybe I can stop feeling.

Brodie takes his shirt off and tosses it on the sofa beside me. To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that he didn't throw it at me, but I'm glad he didn't. I'm embarrassed enough as it is because I know that despite all of my internal fussing, I kind of want him. It's definitely not a bad thing, but one I certainly never really expected to experience with a client.

That's just it, Pepper. He's a client. It's just sex. Only sex. Don't think too far into it.

I exhale deeply, keeping my eyes forward as he moves and gyrates. Perhaps noticing my feigned lack of interest, he takes my hands and places them on his chest. That causes a tingling down below that makes me want to withdraw, but I don't out of fear of offending him. It's okay if he rejects me, but I'm not allowed to reject him. My job is to delight in everything that he does, but it's so difficult when my mind and emotions are a jumbled mess.

He trails my hands down his torso, letting me feel the planes and valleys of his muscles. An image of tracing an ice cube down his stomach and watching it melt flashes through my mind, probably from some romance movie or music video I watched long ago. His skin is so warm, so smooth. I feel a wave of nervousness travel through me to my fingertips, causing me to tremble slightly the closer that my hands get to his dick.

This is driving me insane, this aching want for something normal. I'm caught between enjoying being here and hating that I'm just his whore. Why are we even bothering to play this seduction game? It's not real. None of this is real. I just want to fuck him and go home and crawl into my own bed. Who cares if my apartment stinks of mold? I can't just sit here and pretend like this is okay, like it's not bothering me that at the end of the night he's going to have sex with me and then cast me out. I just want it to be over.

Sucking back my emotions, I reach for his belt. He stills, and I can feel his eyes bearing down on me. It's time to really get this party started. I'll show him that I'm ready, leave nothing to the imagination.

He stands there patiently while I finish unbuckling his belt. I look up at him. As suspected, his eyes are hooded. The lust is there, I just need to get him to act on it.

I trace my top lip with my tongue, slowly pulling his belt out of the belt loops. My moves are delicate and planned, every action meant to cause a reaction within him. My eyes flit to the front of his pants to see if he's getting turned on. He is.

When I reach for the button on his pants, he pulls away from me, walking around the coffee table and leaving me dumbstruck again. What is up with this guy? Does he want to fuck or not?

I try not to be bitter as he continues to dance, leaving me a pouting mess on the sofa. I cross my arms over my chest, his belt still clutched in my hand. To further show my discontent, I stare at his crotch, not caring much about the strip tease anymore.

As if determined to catch my attention again, Brodie turns around, and I hear the faint sound of his zipper going down over the music. He casts a glance at me over his shoulder, seduction behind his hazy green eyes. I can't help but melt a little though I'm still not happy about being rejected yet again. The night is dragging, and I don't understand postponing the inevitable.

Brodie lowers his pants over his ass, revealing a pair of tight black boxer briefs that hug his muscular thighs perfectly. Again, I feel a tremor of need, my hormones signaling to my nether region that I'm ready for the grand finale. Just seeing him like this makes me imagine what it will be like when he's on top of me. Inside of me.

I suck in a deep breath, trying hard not to resist my desire for him, reminding myself that it's a good thing and that I need to stop freaking out about it. Part of my job is to pretend like I want him. It will be far easier doing the deed if I actually do want him.

Brodie wiggles his butt, breaking down all of the seriousness that I've been clinging to all night. I laugh, drawing my hand up to my mouth in guilt. He shimmies out of his pants the rest of the way, then does a dramatic jump so that he's facing me. I lose it again, hiding my face behind my hands. In an instant, he's gone from being incredibly sexy to just being silly.

“Cha!” His eyes go wide and he holds his hands up, causing me to laugh even more. What an idiot.

He kicks his pants to the side and makes his way back around the coffee table to sit next to me, dropping himself down heavily. “And that, my dear, is how you do a strip tease.”

“Oh really?” I nod, desperately trying to hold back the urge to keep chuckling.

“Really!” he exclaims proudly, placing his hands on his hips and striking a pose like he's superman or something.

I fold again, practically doubling over as an uncontrollable giggling fit hits me. “You are such a dork.”

“That's Mister Dork to you,” he says with a soft smile, waiting for me to calm down.

It takes a minute for me to get over how unbelievable he is. Unbelievably funny. Unbelievable sexy. Unbelievably not as big of a pervert as I had originally imagined.

When I'm finally able to get the nerve up to face him, he's staring at me. The look in his eyes has changed, has shifted to something I can't place. My heart throbs as I process it as affection.

He raises his hand and brushes a few of my curls over my shoulder, his fingertips whispering against my face and causing a shiver that makes my clit throb. I wish I never would have looked at him. It's like he's gazing into my soul, and I'm terrified of what he might see there. That I'm broken. That I never really wanted this. That I wish beyond anything that he was just a normal guy and I was just a normal girl and that I was here because we met somewhere random and he invited me up to get to know me better.

“You're very beautiful when you smile,” he tells me, his thumb touching the corner of my mouth for the briefest of moments.

My lips part in a content exhale. Why does he sound so romantic? How am I suppose to react?

“Thank you,” I manage to squeak out, quickly averting my eyes.

The air in the room grows thick with awkward sexual tension. I wait for him to kiss me. Want him to kiss me. If he does, I know I can get lost in the fantasy. I'm tired of resisting. I want to pretend that he's mine, if only for just one night. One night of pleasure in a world of pain. I'll deal with the consequences tomorrow. More pain from allowing myself to enjoy this. Pain and guilt and disgust at myself.

His weight shifts beside me, and I close my eyes, preparing to taste his lips. The seconds feel like hours as I wait for the space between us to disappear. It doesn't happen, though. Instead, he takes me by the hand, pulling me until I stand. I gaze up at him in confusion, feeling like an idiot for ever expecting him to kiss me.

“Now it's your turn. I showed you, now you show me,” his tone is gentle, his expression friendly.

“But I don't know how.” I shake my head, sadness flooding my chest from not being kissed.

“I'll show you how.”

DMITRI

I'm experiencing far more desire for her than I should, not that she's not deserving of being desired. She's a goddess in a house of blasphemers, a sheep in a den of wolves. I don't want to be one of those wolves, the first one to take her against her will. Hell, I don't want anyone to take her like that, but I'm powerless against the ways of the world, and this was her choice to begin with. All I can do is try my best to show her a good time without giving in to my own cravings.

Asking her to strip for me was probably not the best idea. Seeing her without clothes on is only going to make her harder to resist. It would be nice for her to come out of her shell, though. She's so guarded, too guarded for this type of work.

“Come on.” I practically have to pull her off of the sofa.

Alexis joins me in the middle of the living room. The same song is still playing. I never made it all the way through, partially because I was nervous as hell and partially because she didn't look like she was having fun watching me. I'm starting to wonder what she would consider to be fun.

I walk behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. “All you have to do is sway back and forth.”

She begins to move, but the motions are disjointed, and I can hear her huff lightly. “I'm warning you, I have no rhythm.”

“It's fine.” I resist the urge to rest my chin on her shoulder. Just being close to her like this is turning me on. If I wanted to, I could press up against her, feel the curvature of her ass on my dick. The thought makes it throb—makes me realize that I shouldn't tempt fate. “Try to relax a little.”

I can feel her tensing up beneath my touch, her nerves getting the better of her. She pulls out of my grasp and hugs herself. “I'm sorry. I'm just not good at this.”

I sigh and then immediately regret it. I don't want her to think that I'm disappointed in her, but she's so not cut out for this line of work. It's not my place to tell her that, though. She probably knows. And for as much as I want her to relax, it just doesn't seem like it's going to happen.

“Don't apologize. It's fine. I shouldn't have made you do it in the first place. I'm the one who should apologize to you. I probably seem like a creeper.”

“No.” Her head darts up, her eyes wide. “No, you've been great. I'm just...I'm so nervous. I don't know what to do. I don't...”

“Hey.” I step forward and pull her into my arms. “It's alright. You don't have to do anything. It's getting late. You should probably go home.”

When I release her, she keeps her eyes on the floor. “Oh, alright.”

Judging by her tone, she's beating herself up for letting me down. I'm probably misreading that, though. It seems like I've misread everything else tonight.

“I'll call you a taxi.” I walk over to my pants and dig through them for my cell phone.

She stays standing in the living room looking like an injured animal. It makes me feel bad. All night I've been trying to be kind and attentive. Maybe I did more damage than good.

I dial the number, turning away from her so that I don't have to see her sad expression. By the time I hang up the phone, she's found her way back to the sofa. I sit beside her, staring at the blank television screen, listening to the music play in the background.

“I'm sorry if tonight wasn't good for you,” I mumble.

“It was fine. Better than fine. I'm sorry I can't dance.”

“Not everyone can dance.” I smile at her.

“You can.” Her gaze lifts to meet mine, but I feel no warmth from her.

We sit in silence for a while, and I watch the ice melt in my glass, wanting more alcohol but knowing that I shouldn't have any. There's absolutely no reason to keep my buzz going now. The night is winding down, and I need to sleep soon. It's going to be a big day tomorrow.

“I'm probably going to bed right after you leave,” I mention, just to make conversation.

“I wish I could do that,” she sighs.

“Why can't you?” I glance over at her.

“Because I have to return to Mister Sumner's house. The party will probably be going on for several more hours. I'm sure he'll want me to participate.”

My heart sinks at the thought.

I look over at the clock. It has just turned midnight. She's right, I'm reasonably sure that John will want to stay all night and get his money's worth.

“Maybe he'll be nice and let you go home,” I suggest.

“Not likely. I came in late. Besides, tonight was the night I was supposed to get broken in.” She makes air quotes around the words 'broken in', her voice so filled with sarcasm that it's almost palpable.

“Well, how about you just go home, and I'll tell John and James that you stayed the night with me?” I smile at her, wanting desperately to save her from the depravity I know she'll experience if she goes back to the beach house.

“James will still charge you for it.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn't feel right.”

My jaw tenses. A moral escort. Most girls would jump at this chance. She wants to be difficult, though.

For a moment, I think of telling her that I'm not the one paying for it, but a dark part of me does want her to stay. The thought of spending the rest of the night with her, no matter how awkward, is still oddly appealing.

I flip my phone in my hands a few time before redialing the number for the cab to cancel it. Alexis stares at me in confusion as I hang up.

“I guess you're staying here tonight then.” I stand to collect my clothing.

I expect her to thank me, but she says nothing, sitting there in disbelief. In truth, I have no idea what to do with her. I'm getting tired, and I don't feel like trying in vain to keep her entertained.

“You didn't have to do that,” she whispers softly.

“I know. I wanted to do it.” I turn to her. “You can sleep in my bed. I'm going to go brush my teeth.”

“I don't want to displace you.”

I'm so frustrated that I don't even bother responding. Instead, I go throw my clothes in the dirty laundry hamper, then I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

I splash water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror.
What are you doing? You should have just let her go back to the party. You're not really saving her, you know?

I groan, letting my shoulders slump and all of the tension from the day drain out of me in an exasperated sigh. Then I take a deep breath and head to the bedroom.

To my surprise, Alexis is standing at the side of the bed as if she's been waiting for me. She stares at me with distant eyes as she grips the sides of her dress and begins to pull it over her head. I feel frozen in place, my cock twitching crudely in my pants as inch after inch of sexy, smooth skin and lacy, red lingerie is revealed to me. I'm not sure if she's trying to be seductive or not, but her actions are definitely causing inappropriate stirrings.

She tosses the dress onto a chair in the corner of the room. Then she crawls onto the bed, looking up at me with big blue eyes, her blonde curls falling around her shoulders and framing her face, making my body heat up to an almost insurmountable level.

“See, you know how to strip,” I cough before quickly evacuating the room to return to the bathroom.

My dick is straining so hard against my underwear that it hurts. There's no way I'm going to be able to get in bed with her when I'm this sexually pent-up. All it would take is one touch, and it would be over for me. It already feels like my resolve is breaking. That's why I need to be quick about this, lest I allow the masculine part of me to win and claim what I desire.

I shut the door to the bathroom and push my shorts down over my ass, my cock springing out like a soldier at attention. I place one hand on the bathroom counter and spit into my palm before gripping my shaft and stroking fervently.

“Shit,” I curse between clenched teeth, my mind undressing Alexis the rest of the way. Not just undressing her, but doing everything that my body is craving.

I picture parting her perfect thighs and licking between her soft pink folds until she's squirming beneath me in ecstasy. Watching her toes curl as I drive her to orgasm. I try to imagine what it would be like to press my cock at her entryway, how tight her body would hug me. If her back would arch off of the bed. My hands on her ribs, her breasts, exploring her curves. My mouth waters to think of what her lips would feel like against mine, the bite of pain of her fingernails digging into my back as I pump into her again and again and again and again until...

“Holy fuck,” I gasp, bracing myself against the counter as I shoot stream after stream of cum onto it. My climax hits me hard and fast, and while it's good, it's nowhere near as good as the real thing.

This is a necessary evil, though. Was a necessary evil to keep myself grounded. A man can only take so much temptation.

I stand there for several moments, catching my breath, an image of Alexis on all fours on the bed burned into my mind. Hopefully, I can pass out within the next thirty minutes before these intense urges resurface. It's been a few weeks since I last had sex, and the need for it is pretty strong, especially when presented with such a gorgeous offering.

She's paid to sleep with you. Remember that. It will keep the lust at bay.

I make sure that's firmly seated in my mind before I dare to return to the bedroom. It must have looked strange, me leaving so quickly, but I know my own limits, and she was pushing them to the max.

Thankfully, when I get back to the bedroom, Alexis is already lying down, facing away from me. I crawl into bed beside her and turn off the light. Despite the darkness, though, I can't seem to sleep. My mind is infatuated with her, wondering how her life ever came to be like this and why she's in my bed instead of at home with her family or in the bed of someone who loves her.

I stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours, worrying over stupid things. Whether or not she's cold. What she thinks of me. If she wishes that I would have let her go back to the party.

The bed shifts beside me, and I feel her shimmy under the covers. I sigh in relief, now a lot less concerned about whether or not being practically naked on top of the covers is uncomfortable for her.

“Alexis,” I say her name softly, feeling a bit guilty for keeping her up.

“Yes, Brodie.”

“Tell me something about yourself. Anything.” I completely expect her to shut down. To my surprise, though, she speaks.

“I didn't grow up around here. I was born and raised in northern Pennsylvania.”

“You're a long way from home. What made you come here?”

“It's hard to explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to.” I tilt my head slightly towards her, giving her the opportunity to escape my questioning.

She sighs, and I feel her roll over. In the darkness, I can make out her silhouette gazing up at the ceiling. “I was adopted, but I think my mom wanted a pet, not a child. Once she realized how much work was involved in having me around, she didn't want me anymore.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” I frown. While I may have grown up in poverty, at least I had a loving family.

“My parents kicked me out of the house the day after I graduated from high school. They gave me seven hundred dollars, and my mother told me she never wanted to see me again, that I would be a nuisance to them no longer.

“I took that seven hundred dollars and bought a bus ticket to California. I used some of it to sublet an apartment, and now I'm here.” Her voice sounds hollow, but I can tell that it's filled with pain.

“Jesus," I whisper. "I had no idea.”

“Of course, you didn't.” She turns to me, and I can faintly see her smiling. “You're a good man, Brodie Grant. Thank you for tonight. I'm sorry I wasn't better for you.”

My heart is breaking for her. I don't know what to say or do. It makes me angry that she's apologizing, but I'm even angrier that life has dealt her such a harsh hand.

At a loss for words, all I can come up with is, “Goodnight, Alexis.” It feels horribly underwhelming considering what she just shared with me. My mind is blown, and part of me wishes I never would have asked about the truth because I can hardly believe that anyone would be so cruel to such a sweet, beautiful girl.

“Goodnight, Brodie.”