Текст книги "End of the Innocence"
Автор книги: Alessandra Torre
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Chapter 22
Alexis leaned forward, critically studying her eyes in the small mirror set into the back of her locker. Her eye makeup was smudged, a bit of black traveling out of its typical territory. She yanked a tissue out of its holder and dabbed at the spot, glancing down at her phone briefly. It sat, silent, in the outer pocket of her purse. As it had all night. She had heard the news, they all had. Brad was in town, and he was bringing her. Little Miss Virtuous. A girl who would never, ever, be everything that he would need. But she had known, had seen it from the look in his eyes when he’d been with her. When he had gone upstairs to VIP and watched her with Montana, his expression different than she’d ever seen. He had denied it, had tossed off her concerns without a second thought. But she had known. She could always see her demise before it came. She closed her eyes briefly, thinking of that night. When he had left Miss Virtuous downstairs and went into the office with her.
She closed her eyes and her head fell back, her back arching, body open to him. He reached forward, running his hands possessively down her body, wrapping his hands around her waist. He gave one long thrust, burying himself completely inside her, the depth causing her to gasp in response.
Fucking had always been Brad’s strength. The ability to electrify her body and give her exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it. His sexuality was a fire run out of control, stealing the breath and passion of any women who dared to stand too close to the flames. Fire. You couldn’t control a fire. A fact his new fiancée would learn very, very soon.
♦♦♦
Alexis had loved Brad De Luca from the first moment she saw him. Walking down the plush hallway of the Bellagio, chanting a room number in her head to keep from forgetting it. 2314. 2314. 2314. Her palms were sweaty, a common occurrence at this stage in the game. The unknown was the worst. Not knowing who would be behind the door, what he would expect, how badly he could, possibly would, hurt her body. All she knew, all she needed to concentrate on, was that he was a paycheck, and that she was there to please. Then he opened the door, and everything sane exited her mind.
He opened the door fresh from the shower, the clean scent of soap and male practically knocking her back into the hall. He had buttoned up half of his shirt, the unopened buttons offering her a peek into tan, ripped perfection. Dark brown eyes regarded her carefully, traveling down her body before returning to her face.
She shifted uncomfortably, tugging the hem on her dress slightly before striking a pose against the doorframe. “May I come in?” she asked, using the husky voice that seemed to appeal to men everywhere.
He was different, taking a step back and studying her silently without speaking, buttoning the remaining buttons on his shirt before beginning with the cufflinks. “Are you lost, or have you been sent by the hotel?”
She ignored the pit in her stomach and grinned breezily, walking past him into the room and reclining onto the couch, her legs on full display, body curved in a way that made every asset count. “You can thank Blake for me.” He shut the door and walked over, continuing to work on his sleeves while frowning down on her. He stood close, close enough that his scent invaded her, and she looked up at him, deciphering the expression on his face, one somewhere between irritation and concern. Not the look men typically carried. Greed, arousal, excitement. Those were the looks she created, the reason her new job seemed destined for success.
“How old are you?” He frowned.
“Eighteen.” Twenty.
He walked away, entering the suite’s small kitchen and opening the fridge. She took the moment to breathe deeply, wiping her hands on the fabric of her dress and willing her confidence to return.
A water bottle, the hotel’s brand, drops of condensation dotting its round landscape. He held it out, taking a seat, not on the couch as she had hoped, but in the chair next to her. She accepted it warily. “Thank you, but I’m not really thirsty.”
“I’d offer you something stronger, but given your age ...” He laughed when her eyes regarded his skeptically. “What’s your name?”
“Alexis.” Sarah Hinkle.
He raised his eyebrows at her answer, speaking in an unhurried manner. “Blake hasn’t learned me yet. Once he does, he will realize that I prefer companions of the unpaid variety. That being said, I’m sure you are expected to stay up here for a certain period of time. How about we spend that time talking? Are you hungry?
Gay. The man was gay. She almost laughed as the realization hit her, a burst of relief pouring through her insecure body. She fought to hide the reaction, straightening out of her ridiculous pose and nodding gratefully at him. “A little. Some food would be nice.”
Her answer pleased him and he stood, grabbing a room service menu off of the side table and passing it to her. “Great. Look that over. I was going to head out for dinner, but I’ll eat here with you. You can head downstairs after that.”
He moved to the bar, pouring himself a drink and returned with the phone, pressing an extension and holding it to his ear, shooting her an inquisitive glance. She quickly skimmed the menu, picking out the least expensive item. “Chicken ceasar salad, dressing on the side. And a Diet Coke, please.”
He placed the order, stacking two appetizers, a few side items, and two desserts onto it before ending the call. They sat there, in silence, and she braced herself for whatever was next.
“So ... Alexis. What’s your real name?” His legs slightly spread, he leaned back in the chair, head relaxed against the headrest, his position as unobtrusive as humanly possible, yet ridiculously tempting as it stretched his pelvis and flat stomach before her, like a clothed buffet just waiting to be devoured.
She hesitated, eyes fighting to stay on his face and then, much to her surprise, her mouth opened, and the truth spilled out.
Fifty minutes later, a white fluffy robe surrounded her—the garment retrieved from a closet and thrust at her by a disgruntled Brad. “Put this on,” he had ordered. “Otherwise you’ll ruin your dress, and I’ll fail miserably at trying to avoid staring at your body.” She had smiled slightly, working her way into the robe. She had been wrong. Gay didn’t occupy a single corner of this man’s universe. She didn’t know why he wouldn’t touch her, didn’t know how—when sexuality reeked from every bone in his body—he managed to converse, laugh, and question her without taking it to the bedroom. She had tried, three times during the meal, to move the evening in that direction, but had been met only with polite resistance. She still knew nothing of the man, of his intentions, history, or relationship status, but he now knew almost everything about her. From her awkward beginnings, to her move to Vegas, to the first few weeks of this new, lucrative job.
He had disapproved, his brows knitting together in concern. “There are plenty of other jobs on the Strip. Waitress, bartend. Anything but this.”
He didn’t understand. Didn’t realize that her sights were set on far more than sweaty encounters with faceless men. She didn’t want to slave away for pennies and live in a tiny shithole apartment in North Las Vegas. She wanted the glitz and the glam of the Strip, and to experience it on the arm of a wealthy man. She wanted the easy lifestyle, the limos and the clothes, the stack of credit cards, sparkle of diamonds, confidence of a kept woman. This was her way to get there. With every hotel door that opened, she had one more chance. Maybe this was her chance, he was her Richard Gere, and this was her Pretty Woman tale.
“Sexuality is my talent. You wouldn’t understand, but this is my best plan.” She looked down as she said the words, realizing, too late, that she had scarfed down an easy two thousand calories, inexcusable in her line of work.
“So strip. At least then you have security and guidelines. This work is too dangerous, you have very little control.”
He hadn’t understood, and the look he shot her at their parting was one of disappointment and worry. And his handsome face, towering over her in the foyer of that luxurious suite, imprinted on her mind for the next three weeks, came to her in the dead of night, when the day was over and she slipped under cheap sheets, ready to sleep away the day’s memories. She had left her number, scribbled with a girlish script on a pad of hotel paper. And nightly, she had prayed for a call. But the phone never rang, and as the days passed, the memory faded, until his face no longer came to her when her eyes closed at night.
♦♦♦
Six years later, and she was still checking her phone for his damn call. The irony was not lost on her, and she slammed the locker door shut with more vigor than was necessary. She used to think it was fated, her leaving the escort game to go into stripping, her journey ending at this club, Saffire’s gold-encrusted elegance that would later become the property of Brad De Luca. Now, with the club ownership change, it seemed like a cruel joke from whoever was upstairs, life a jerky puppeteer game that had contorted her directly into the hands of Miss Virtuous. She envisioned the young brunette deftly manipulating the puppeteer handles, and her face twisted in anger.
Chapter 23
We pulled up to Saffire, the door opened by a muscular bouncer with a welcoming smile. “Ma’am.” He nodded, extending his hand and helping me from the car. Brad appeared and shook his hand, his appearance causing the man’s grin to widen exponentially.
“Mr. D. Good to see you, sir. Janine is inside, should I radio her?”
“No, we’ll find her. Good to see you, John.” He clapped the man on the back, and we made our way through the doors, stepping into the dark club.
Janine found us, striding up with quick efficiency before we even passed through the lobby. She gave Brad a warm hug and turned to me with a smile, extending a hand and shaking mine with a firm grip.
“Brad’s told me a lot about you. Welcome. Would you like a tour?”
I nodded, glancing at Brad, who softly placed a hand on my back, assuring me of his presence. Then we moved, Janine starting a steady dialogue that wouldn’t pause for forty-five minutes.
♥♥♥
Alexis watched them move, a tight group of three, the girl’s assets displayed in a dress that screamed expensive. She was softer than Alexis, her chest still natural, a delicate look to her frame. But she had the ass, and that had always been Brad’s weakness. She watched with narrowed eyes as the threesome stepped through the backstage doors, disappearing from view. A rough hand on her back had her looking down, into the needy eyes of the businessman she straddled. Smiling down, she ground against his crotch, her need for approval stronger now, more than ever.
♥♥♥
I liked Janine. She was businesslike to the point of being unfriendly, skipping over any fun facts on the tour and rattling off figures, percentages, and problems, a mix of pride and concern in her words. We ended the tour in an upper-level VIP room, seated at a private alcove that looked down upon the club. Janine killed power to a small video camera that looked into the space, and we sat down around a cocktail table.
“When will the changeover take place?” she asked, leaning forward and meeting both of our eyes.
“I’ve already transferred the stock certificates. Scott Burge, an attorney from my firm, will send over an operating agreement for you to sign. You should receive that this week. Once that is complete, I will be completely out.”
She glanced at me guardedly, hesitating before speaking. “Julia, I’ve never been very good with tact, so I’ll come right out with this. Brad and Evelyn have left me alone, occasionally visiting the club and having monthly conference calls to discuss finances. I’m not used to having a boss, and that isn’t something I am particularly interested in.”
Brad started to speak, and I silenced him, touching his arm lightly. “I plan on having the same level of involvement as Brad. I am not familiar with Saffire and have little to no experience in the business world. Brad says you are an excellent operator, and I trust his judgment. Assuming we continue or improve the current level of revenue, I see no reason to get involved in your business.”
Her features relaxed noticeably. “I would appreciate that. Do you have any other questions I can answer while you are here?”
I couldn’t think of anything she had missed during the last hour. I shook my head and glanced at Brad to see if he had any thoughts.
He leaned forward, speaking, “I think we’re good, Janine. I’ll join in on the call next week with Julia, so we can touch base then. Look for that package from our firm.”
She nodded, moving quickly to her feet, her eyes already roaming the club. “If that’s all, I’d like to get back downstairs.”
“We’ll stay here and chat for a bit,” Brad said, throwing an arm over the back of my chair.
“Just turn back on the security cam when you’re done.” She gave us both smiles and left, moving at a quick pace, speaking into a mouthpiece as she moved.
I let out a breath, turning to Brad with a smile. “She’s nice.”
He scoffed. “Did you expect her to be a bitch to her new boss?”
My mouth turned up slightly. “I thought we just clarified that I’m not her boss.”
“I never treated her like an employee, despite the majority ownership I held. I’m sure you will follow suit.”
“You know I will.”
Then his eyes changed, from friendly to dark, and I knew, before he even lifted a hand, what was coming.
Chapter 24
I felt the tug on my chair as Brad pulled me close to him. He captured my face in his hands, his eyes examining my features. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his eyes moving over and focusing on my lips before he tugged me to him, taking ownership of my mouth with a few soft swipes of his tongue. I opened my lips further, deepening the contact, my hands stealing into his hair. I broke the kiss, pushing my chair back and standing, moving closer to him and spreading his knees with my legs. He slid deeper in the chair, reclining back against the soft leather, gazing up at me with a latent dominance of the nothing-but-trouble variety. I grinned playfully down at him, and slid one strap, then the other, of my dress down, dragging the fabric until my bare breasts were exposed, lit softly by the blue-gray lights of the room.
He groaned softly, a guttural sound, and stared into my eyes, tightening his knees against my legs. “Come here.”
I shook my head and knelt, running my hands softly up his dress pants, past his muscular thighs, until I reached his belt. He watched me, his eyes darkening and he leaned forward suddenly, snagging my chin and pulling it up, his eyes grabbing me possessively before kissing me hard, a deep kiss that reclaimed his power before he released me, leaning back and watching me.
“Do you always have to be in control, Mr. De Luca?” I purred the words, unbuckling his belt with one motion, then rubbed my hand over the zipper line, feeling the outline of his cock underneath the fabric, the shape of him hardening under my fingers. He didn’t answer, his eyes locked on mine, dark orbs of sexuality. I suddenly needed to see him, needed to have his bare skin in my hand, to feel the throb of what was mine. I looked away from his eyes, focusing, and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then, he was in my hand, an impossibly thick, hard shaft, the skin hot beneath my palm. I stroked it, the firm grip eliciting an intake of Brad’s breath.
“Put it in your mouth.” The order came through in a drugged tone, desire glowing at me from under heavy eyelids.
I shook my head, increasing the speed of my stroke as I watched him. He frowned slightly, lifting his hips a bit, bringing the nine inches of insanity closer to my face. I spoke, my tone a mixture of dominance and bite. “What is your plan with the girl?”
He sat up slightly, his eyes opening more, and watching me carefully. “What girl?”
“The stripper. The one you fucked last time you were here.”
“I thought that didn’t bother you.”
I hissed. “It didn’t bother me last time. Things are different now. Are you going to talk to her?”
“I feel like this is a test of some sort ...” he mumbled. His breath hitched a bit as I squeezed his cock, loving the feel of complete stiffness in my hands. “What is you want, Julia?”
I ran my tongue lightly, teasingly, over the top of his head, taking it into my mouth for one brief moment before I pulled off, my hands never pausing in their movement, a quick pace that traveled his entire length with every stroke. “I want you to handle it,” I said firmly. “I want her to understand that you will never have sex with her again.”
“Never?” I released him, the sudden departure causing his eyes to open and a frown to settle over his features. “I’m joking. Don’t stop.”
I resumed my movement, my free hand gathering his heavy balls in my hand, squeezing him softly as I stroked his length with a firm hand.
“Come here,” he said, sitting up and pulling on my arms.
“No.” I fixed him with my sternest look, my hand increasing in speed.
“Julia, come here. I want to talk to you about this without being tongue-tied by your hands on my cock.” He pulled harder, his strong arms lifting me easily onto his lap, despite my best attempt at resistance.
Sitting on his lap created a new set of problems. Mainly him, standing at attention against my thighs. I sat sideways on his lap and spread my knees slightly, my hand stealing in between my legs to grab him.
He relented, shifting slightly so I would have better access and turned my face to his. His eyes were troubled, turbulent storms of concern. For her. I tried to squash the irritation that rose within me at that realization. “Julia, you’ve lived a very different life from Alexis. Her relationship with me gives her some financial security.”
Whoa. I released his cock and spoke quickly, anger vibrating through my voice. “Your relationship?”
“Don’t get bent out of shape at my choice of words. There are things you need to understand, and if you are going to get worked up, I’m not going to be able to explain it to you.”
I bit back a retort and waited.
“Despite your emotionally-distant mother and your tiny college budget, you’ve lived a charmed life compared to Alexis. She’s been on her own since she was seventeen. When I first met her, she was working as a prostitute.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his hand stealing behind my neck. “She earns a salary here, one that gives her some semblance of security. She will see our marriage, my departure from her, as an end to that security. She won’t understand that my commitment to you doesn’t mean an abandonment of her. It will take time, will take her seeing the financial stability continuing, with your name on the paychecks, for her to understand and be okay with it.”
I thought for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts. “I don’t want her to think, if her salary continues, that it is because you have emotional feelings for her.” An unavoidable thought wormed into my mind. “Do you have emotional feelings for her?”
He hesitated, a reaction that lit a fire in my psyche. He saw the heat in my eyes and raised a hand. “Wait, let me try to communicate this properly.”
I waited, my mouth set.
“You know the story my father told you ... about the dog.”
I nodded silently.
“I didn’t love that dog. I had played with it one day, and if I had never seen it again, I wouldn’t have had a second thought about it. But I admired its strength, I felt compassion for its struggle. Sex, for Alexis, is nothing. She has no emotional ties to it. We have fucked, throughout the last five years, out of joint enjoyment. What Alexis yearns for, and needs, is security. I feel compassion for Alexis. I care for her in the sense that I want what is best for her. I felt that I couldn’t ignore or stand by when she needed help. I know that she cannot strip forever. I have encouraged her to go to college, had hoped that the small amount she receives in salary will help her to explore other options. You will be my wife; you are my future. I will never jeopardize our relationship in an attempt to comfort Alexis. But please don’t ask me to hurt her. Saffire is yours now. If you want to fire her, or cut off her salary, or sell the club altogether, that is your prerogative. But I don’t believe that you are the type of woman to treat her in that manner. I will speak to her, and make sure she understands that I am forever and exclusively committed to you. But I’d also like to assure her that I still value her as an individual, and that you will support her job at Saffire as long as she wants to work here.”
I leaned back against his chest, my tension releasing slightly as I processed his words. His hand ran lightly up my thigh, gently, slowly moving toward the silk wisp of fabric that comprised my panties. “Are you trying to distract me, Mr. De Luca?” I breathed, my body tightening in anticipation as his second hand joined in, stealing up my stomach until it hit the exposed skin that was my breasts.
“Never,” he said, his fingers caressing the silk of my panties, sliding over and over the triangle of fabric, my clit awaking underneath his touch, under the slow, perfect swipes of his fingers. I shifted, tilting my pelvis upward and pushed his hand down, letting out a soft moan when his fingers hit the place where my panties became practically non-existent. He stroked that spot, leaving the thong in place, his thumb strumming a steady rhythm over my clit as his fingers stroked my wetness. I moaned again, pushing on his hand, waiting, needing more. My eyes found his cock, heavy and thick against my leg, and I panted at the sight of glistening moisture at its hard tip.
“You’re not going to get this subject to go away with sex,” I mumbled, as my mind threw out all reasonable thought processes and prepared to fully enter De Luca worship mode.
“I believe,” he whispered in my ear, “that you were the one who brought sex into this conversation.”
Then his finger moved, a strong motion that pushed aside my thong and thrust into my sex. I gasped, throwing back my head and pushed greedily down on his hand. A second finger joined the first, and they moved in perfect succession, fully inside and crooking inside of me, delicious swipes that had my eyes rolling back in ecstatic delirium. I reached out my hands, gripping his legs and squeezing, needing some type of grounding solidity to bring me back to reason.
His arms held me still, one wrapped around my pelvis and ending at the wet burial between my legs, the other holding my back tightly against his chest, the forearm hard against my stomach, the hand traveling from breast to breast, squeezing, teasing, and worshipping my tender skin.
I was coming, my core contracting around his fingers, my body arching against him. “Brad,” I gasped, “I need ...”
He knew what I needed, and tightened his arms, holding me still, his upper hand turning whisper soft on my nipples as he increased the magic of his lower hand, his fingers taking me over the this-can’t-be-fucking-happening mountain, and I fell, in a beautiful, free cascade, a full-body explosion of perfection that had me screaming his name, my words disappearing in the loud club music, my screams turning to moans, until I finally settled on a bed of Brad, my body spent and drunk against his, his fingers maintaining movement inside of me, taking me to a perfect, delirious ending until I collapsed.
