Better When It Hurts (Stripped #2)

Oscar looks doubtful. “Hey, man—”

Blue closes the door in his face. When he turns to me, his eyes have gone completely black. He’s like a panther as he prowls around me, pressing me back against the wall. “You think we’re done?”

“Yeah, I do.” It would have sounded better if my voice hadn’t been shaking.

“No, baby. Not even close. I didn’t get what I wanted all those years ago. Remember that? Remember waiting?”

Tears spring to my eyes, because I do remember waiting. I remember how respectful he was even while he was horny out of his mind. I remember how cherished he made me feel. Of course he didn’t know then that I’d already lost my virginity. That scared me more than anything back then. How was I going to explain to him that I’d already fucked a guy? How was I going to explain that I fucked any guy that I needed to, that would protect me, but that Blue was different?

It didn’t matter, because before we could have sex, he was already gone.

“I’m not that girl anymore.” My voice sounds rough, gritty. That’s how I feel inside—like dirt.

“No, you’re a woman now. But are you still a goddamn tease? Or are you going to give me what I’ve been waiting five fucking years for?”

Apprehension runs down my spine. “Is that why you came back? Is that why you’re working at the Grand, because I wouldn’t give it up to you all those years ago?”

He laughs softly. “Is your pussy that good?”

My pussy clenches like he invoked the goddamn devil just by saying her name. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is. I think you owe me a taste of that. I’ve been giving you time, letting you get used to the idea, but I’m done waiting. Especially when you came walking in here, in my place, when I’m already strung out and fucked-up and blue balled. It was either fight or fuck, and I’ve been fighting every Saturday night.” Those dark eyes meet mine. “Until now.”

“Blue,” I say, warning in my tone. Fear too.

“Next Saturday night, I’m not gonna be in the lineup. Instead I’m going to be at my place, trying out that pussy for the first time.”

I stare at him, somehow shocked. I hear men catcall me, hear them proposition me, hear them swear at me every night. No amount of dirty words can surprise me, but somehow hearing him promise to fuck me does just that.

“Say yes, baby.” His eyes are some kind of magic. I can’t look away. And I can’t say no.

Maybe this is what it will finally take to atone for what I did. Maybe this is some kind of perverted redemption for me, a way to make him whole. Or maybe I’m just making excuses, because I don’t know what else to do. Years ago I’d find the strongest boy in school and let him fuck me for protection. Now the strongest boy is Blue and the strip club is my school—and the only man I need protection from is him.

“Last,” I say, my voice so gravelly I can barely make it out.

“What?”

“You said you’ll be trying my pussy for the first time. And it will be the last time too.”

A slow smile crosses his face. “We’ll see, gorgeous. We’ll just fucking see about that.”

*

I manage to get through my routine the same as always. The hoots from the men are just as loud. The tips are just as good. I keep up appearances because I’m too damn good at it.

Inside, I’m rattled.

When I exit the stage, I don’t even hit the floor. That’s where I can make the most money, but I head for the back. Maybe I’m a little freaked out after what happened in the VIP room last time. Or maybe I just don’t want to see Blue watching me, judging me, while other men paw at me.

My breasts bounce a little as I walk. I’m naked except for my G-string.

I should be comfortable this way. I’ve definitely walked this hallway naked many times before. Only this time I can’t help thinking about a certain man I’ve passed here before.

We’ll just fucking see about that.

A looming shadow appears before me, like something supernatural—only it’s no ghost that I bump into, bare breasts and all. I stumble, clumsy, and his hands reach out to steady me.

“Careful.” Blue.

It’s like I’ve summoned him just by thinking of him. He touches my arms, just my arms, but my skin gets goose bumps as if it’s more. My nipples harden into points. I cover them with my hands, somehow modest even though he would have just seen me onstage. He doesn’t release me, so I stand there, cupping my breasts, my arms held by his.

I’ve been fondled and spanked. I’ve been mauled in the goddamn VIP room. But this is the most intimate position I’ve been in for a long time. It’s the most intimate position I’ve been in since he last held me five years ago.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice wobbling. Even then he takes his time releasing me. I stumble back against the wall. “I’ve been thinking about Saturday.”