The Hunted (6 page)

“
B
ay
.”

The car comes to a screeching halt, and I sit straight up.

“See, told you that would wake her.”

“You’re an asshole.” Gannon glares over at Ivy.

“Bay, want to stop for dinner before we drop you off?” Ivy asks.

I sit up and try to shake the sleep from my eyes and nod yes to her.

“What do you feel like?” Gannon turns to me.

“I’m not picky.” My words come out mixed with a long yawn as I stretch up as far as I can. I feel the air hit right below the hem of my tank and follow Gannon’s gaze as he appreciates the view. Tilting my head, I smile at him, and then shake my head.

“Told you again, Gannon, I know my girl. I pick dinner. S-C-O-R-E. Pizza it is. Boom.”

Ivy’s cheer up front makes me smile. I’ve heard it a dozen different times even though she changes it up each time.

“You good with pizza?” Gannon rubs his hand up and down the top of my leg as he stares back at me.

Thank you, Jesus, for endowing this man with long arms. I’m shocked when I don’t blush or even flinch at his touch as sleep still whirls around in my mind. I almost wonder if this whole conversation itself is a dream because this is so not like my life.

“Pizza is fine.” I clutch his olive tanned hand and place it on my thigh.

F
rom my make
-out session and pizza dinner with Gannon to the club life it is the prime definition of mother trucking opposites. The sticky floor no longer bothers me and I know several of the loyal customer’s names and their orders by heart. It’s only been a few days since my epic trip home and I already see life in a different light.

Stew gave me a raise last night along with complimenting me on catching on so quickly. The meager four dollars an hour compared to the generous tips is nothing. I may be shy, but not an idiot. It was a no brainer learning names and slinging drinks for a larger tip and even a little flirting helps with a few normal customers.

The one thing I haven’t grown accustomed to yet is the women stripping naked and seductively dancing. I get caught in their trance, and it’s not embarrassment or horror covering my face but fascination. Their dance is a work of art entrancing everyone in their view, and I’d give anything to be able to sketch out the passion and desire that lingers in the club.

“Bay.” I peel my view from the stage to Stew. “Table twenty-two. Careful, it’s a group of bachelors.”

I’ve already learned my lesson in the few short months working about young bachelors and how grabby they can be and how they’re very low tippers unless they were born with a silver spoon in their mouth. It’s hard to tell as all young men dress the part.

“Got it.” I wink back at Stew and grab the tray. Van puffs out a cloud of smoke in my direction. The smooth smell of the vanilla cigar always puts me at ease because it means Van is near. I prefer the cigar smell to cigarette. I’ve seen him take down men double the size of him when getting too handsy with strippers.

I look over at him, and he gives me his typical stare down, which shows absolutely no emotion and still has the ability to send my senses into overdrive. He’s the dark when Gannon is the light. He’s the devil where Gannon is the angel, and yet I find my body reacting the same to each. How I want his lips on mine again, but the man has kept his distance.

The night flies by as I sling drinks, clean tables, and sling more drinks, then rake in the dollar bills and wipe down tables. It’s as if I am on repeat as I do the actions over and over in one night. It’s nice to know that I’ve found an easy routine.

I sneak off into the dark hallway to check my phone for a text from a certain tall, blond god who’s touched more of me than any other human on the planet.

Gannon: Hey.

Gannon: You ignoring me?

Me: I told you I had to work.

A slight and ridiculous smile spreads across my lips. He turns me into a giddy little schoolgirl with her first crush.

Gannon: Guess what?

Me: What?

Gannon: Only fourteen more hours until our first official date.

Me: You’re a dork.

Gannon: Can’t wait to see you again.

Me: It’s been three days since we had pizza.

Gannon: I don’t care. I can’t wait to wine and dine you.

Me: Back to work I go, boy! See you tomorrow.

I tuck my phone deep in my pocket, knowing I’d never stop texting the man if I didn’t. I just hope talking to him in real life is as easy as our texting conversations. His pull is electric and sometimes I wonder if it’s just the lack of attention I received from the opposite sex. He’s like a vortex I want to get lost in because he says all the right things. I’d give Gannon anything right now, and that scares the ever-loving piss out of me.

A low moan distracts me and when I look down the dimly lit hallway, taking a minute for my eyes to adjust, I see Van bent over. Then upon closer inspection, I see he’s bent over Honey, the most fake and extravagant dancer in the club. Once my eyes focus in, I notice his bare thighs and her bare ass as he drives into her. Her moans fill the hallway as my eyes take in their whole intimate situation.

I’m unable to look away from them even though I have no business watching. The longer I stare, the quicker I realize it’s not intimate at all but rather raw fucking. Van’s knuckles are white as they dig into the side of Honey’s ass.

His shaft flows in and out of her, and it seems the object my eyes focus on and can’t look away from is where their bodies connect. Every couple of seconds, my eyes dart up to his face, only to find it focused on the back of her head. Honey makes all sorts of noises as Van fucks her hard from behind. There’s no tender brushes or anything loving about the scene. He’s brutally fucking her, and I feel an ounce of jealousy bloom inside of me. I see him grow as he takes her hard and steady. When I look back up to his face to study the reaction on it, he turns and makes eye contact with me.

His devilish but yet so sexy blue eyes bore into mine as his hips continue the same action without stalling. My back presses harder against the cement wall, praying for some stabilization but finding none. My knees grow weak underneath me as I continue to watch him fuck Honey and that need blooms heavier in me, wishing it were me he was punishing with his dick.

My hand snakes down my front as he watches each movement of mine. I audibly moan out loud as I feel my fingertips hit my ready and wet flesh. My fingertips follow the movement of his hips as he stares me down and taunts me with the speed, but I follow as if he has me stuck in a fucking trance.

I’m not sure if it’s the dark or the stare of Van that forces me forward with my motions, but either way I mimic his actions and feel the build up inside of me and realize how addicting this feeling is. He never breaks eye contact, urging me on. My curls bounce off my cheekbone as I keep up with a grueling pace. Honey’s moans are just a mere background noise as I only focus on his baby blues.

The moment he lets out a low and sexy moan I feel my release spread across my fingers as the realization of what I just did hits me. As soon as the feelings of pleasure fade away into the dark hall, I fumble to zip up my tiny zipper on my booty shorts.

“Need help?” He tilts his head to the side and then lowers his lips to the exposed skin on my neck. “Always fumbling, Bay.”

His fingers delicately slide up my zipper and then easily snap the tiny black button on my tiny shorts. But it’s his lips that I focus on. They are brushing the delicate skin on my neck.

I turn my neck allowing him more access and notice Honey has vanished. I feel my fingers being drug up to his lips.

“Let’s see how good you taste, little one.”

Van takes his time sucking each of my fingers and then lazily laps his tongue around one of my trembling fingers. The swirling motion of his tongue on my finger hypnotizes me into a full vortex of Van.

“MMMMM. I’ve never tasted anything sweeter, Bay.”

The sound of my zipper echoes in the hallway. I notice it’s gone dark. Honey must have flipped off the light. My shorts are slowly tugged down my thighs until they drop around my boots.

“May I?” Van asks.

I hear his voice but have absolutely no idea what he’s saying. I feel his fingers twirl around the dainty lace of my panties and then they’re gone. He groans again when he’s face level with my lady parts. His lips curve up in a smile against my delicate flesh.

“Let me taste all of you, Bay.” He lets out a needy grumble.

“What about…” I lose my train of thought. “What about Honey?”

“She’s a whore.”

His lips caress my bare flesh while digging his fingers into my exposed thighs.

“I want you, Bay. I’ve tried staying away, but I can’t and when I caught you watching tonight it lit up the beast in me.”

Peering down at him, I admire his ballcap he now has on backwards. “Take me, Van.”

My gut screams at me, warning me how bad of an idea this is. But it’s the devil clothed as desire winning the battle and erasing all my common sense. My body wants Van. My dreams are always about him. Fuck, I pictured his dark face when Gannon was working me over. I clench my eyes, letting my body feel all of Van and force myself to think about Gannon, but it’s only Van’s piercing stare haunting me.

“I want to fuck you, Bay. And I will but not right now. I need to taste you, feel you squirm under my touch, and hear your sweet moans.”

“I want you.” It barely comes out as a whisper.

“I’m no good for you.”

Van settles down on his knees, gently lifting my legs up over his shoulders. My palms slap back on the wall to help steady myself.

“I may be a bad, bad man, but I’ve got you, baby.” His hands cling to each of my ass cheeks, stabilizing me.

It’s not his touch that shocks me, but the term of endearment he just used. I moan and writhe a bit under his hold catching a glimpse of his nice guy side. He presses his nose into my folds, causing me to buck up hard into him, wanting more.

“Van,” I whimper and try to roll my hips into him.

Something between us erupts into wild passion. He darts his tongue and laps my folds from top to bottom and then his fingers enter me. He creates a rhythm that causes me to scream out in pleasure.

Bunching up my shirt, I ball a chunk of material in my mouth to muffle my groans and screams. In a matter of seconds, the most delicious ball of ecstasy threatens to erupt inside me. It’s too soon … I never want to let go of this and just ride it out the rest of my life, but with one flick of his tongue and fingers pushing into me, I scream and cum all over his mouth.

My body collapses into a heap of worn out nerves and muscles while still firmly seated on Van’s shoulders. His mouth doesn’t leave me as he gently licks up the rest of my juices. When he finally sets me down on my feet, I cringe knowing he’s about to leave me, and it’s the warmth of his touch I never want to lose.

He carefully snakes his body back up mine until we’re face to face. Clutching his strong jawline, I pull him into me and begin to work over his mouth like he just did to my pussy. He bucks his hips into me, and I feel him hard and ready.

I turn his ballcap back around with his flat bill facing me. “You may be a bad guy, Van, but I want you to be my bad guy.”

He closes his eyes, and it’s the first time I see something other than anger and pleasure on his face. He’s hurt. Drowning in his own hell. “You can’t be with me.”

It’s a sharp knife to my very tender heart. “Then give me what you can.”

It comes off needy and way too desperate, but it’s how I feel on the inside. I’m clawing with everything I have to cling to him. Just one more second with him is all I need. I want him.

“I just gave it to you, Bay.” He runs one of his hands through my wild curls, clutching onto them and sending a slight pain through my scalp. “But I want so much more.”

He doesn’t offer up any more conversation and only leaves me with his lingering sexy scent all over my skin.

I stare as he walks away and try like hell to steady my stumbling fingers. A wave of shame, guilt, and mostly pleasure washes over me as I try to gather my thoughts in the dark hallway.

When my legs steady underneath me, I make my way out to the bar and go about my closing tasks. I find myself running the pads of my fingers over my lips and as the seconds tick by, so does the puffiness Van left behind. It’s all fucking wrong and way twisted.
Jesus Christ, I’ve turned into a slut wagon
. Just a few orgasms under my belt and now I’m beating off to everything in sight. But it was Van’s lips that have left something on me that can never be erased. He’s lit a fire inside me and I know I’ll never be the same person after him.

As I’m wiping down the last table and making my way to the bar to wipe it down, I hear Stew’s voice.

“Bay, go on home. Some guys have stopped by to see Van.”

I look up to the small crowd circled around the bar with Van at the center of it.

“It’s been years and we need to toast the fucker, finally.”

My fingers still shake from the effects of Van, making the decision to bolt across the street an easy one for me. I snag my purse from behind the bar along with my dark hoodie and head for the door. Usually, I take the time to put on my sweatshirt knowing the outside breeze will be a chilly one, but not tonight. The solitude of my lonely apartment is the only thing I desire.

I hear footsteps behind me as I jog across the street, but when the aroma hits my senses, it lets me know it’s Van following me. That woodsy scent with the perfect hint of vanilla needs to be bottled up. I pick up the pace, as does he. When I reach my door, I will myself to smoothly unlock it. I glance over my shoulder to Van, who has a cigar hanging from his lips and a black hoodie pulled up with his low riding black jeans barely hugging his V.

“Lock your door. Lots of shit happening around here.”

“Come in?” It comes out as naturally as if I’m inviting in an old friend.

He shakes his head and stares down at his white Converse. “I can’t.”