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I shrug. “Lucky guess, I suppose.” Grabbing Tina by the elbow, I give Wall Street a two-finger salute. “It’s been real.”
“What happened?” Tina asks as I pull her away from the bar.
“Not my type,” is my curt reply.
“Your loss is my gain later.” Tina shakes her head, throwing her hands up in surrender before stalking back to the dance floor.
I’m about halfway down the stairs when a shiver works its way up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Spinning around in a panic, I scan the room for any familiar faces but come up empty. After another sweep of the room, I am convinced I must be imagining things and relax. I have only been dancing with the girls for barely a minute when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up again, though. This time when my gaze sweeps over the room, I do find someone watching me.
Off to one side, a dark figure leans casually against a pillar. Head cocked and arms crossed, he stares at me. When our eyes meet through the fog, he does a slow sweep of my body that feels like a caress over my skin. As much as I am caught off guard by his blatant appraisal, I can’t look away. As soon as his gaze meets mine again one side of his mouth tips up and he pushes off the pillar, stalking towards me.
I use the word stalking because it feels a lot like I am the prey, caught in the sights of a hunter. There is hidden power in his saunter, as if every muscle is wound tight waiting to be let loose. Unlike the guy from earlier, this man’s custom suit hugs every inch of his frame, pulling tight across his biceps and chest.
The music and people around me fade away until all that is left is this man and how I’m frozen in place, unable to move an inch to escape.
He comes to a stop in front of me, so close that the tips of our toes touch and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. He is almost a head taller than me, and the aging on his face hints at him being perhaps a decade older. Not that that diminishes how attractive he is. With his dark hair, thick matching eyebrows, full lips, and angular jaw, any woman would be mad to refuse him, myself included. His nose is slightly off-set as if it has been broken before. Somehow, this just adds to his allure.
He doesn’t say anything as he stares down at me. It is unnerving.
“Hi,” I breathe.
One side of his mouth tips up before he lowers his head, pushing my hair over one shoulder before his lips brush against the shell of my ear. “Are you having fun?” His voice is deep and full of promises, sending a shiver down my spine.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, but he is still close enough that when I nod the short strands of hair hanging over his forehead brush against my skin.
My answer must please him because he smiles at me as he runs the back of his hand over my shoulder, down my side, and settles his palm on my lower back.
“I’m here with my friends,” I blurt, motioning to the group of girls behind me.
He spares them a dismissive glance before bringing his mouth to my ear again. “Do you want to get out of here and have even more fun?”
Chapter 2 - Fyodor
Every night is the same. The same types of people walk through the doors of the club, looking for the same things. The men are usually in search of a quick, easy, and on the women’s part, unsatisfying lay. The women want an escape from their dreary lives. Sometimes, they are on the hunt for some rich sap not smart enough to realize that the only reason a gorgeous woman is talking to him is to trap him into handing over a sizable sum of money in exchange for keeping their pleasure-filled night a secret from his wife. That, or they get them drunk enough to pass out in the hotel room so they can rob them blind.
Either way, most of the people who come into the club hold little to no appeal. Other than to pass the time; I do have needs, after all. But watching people move through the club also means I know what to expect. That makes it boring. That does not mean that I do not still enjoy the simple pleasures. It just means that when I see something, or someone, different, it excites me.
So now my breath is caught in my chest as I stare down at the woman in front of me, waiting for her answer. A strange feeling moves through me, almost as though I am waiting for the floor to drop out from under me. It is not something I am accustomed to. I do not approach women, they come to me, and I never have doubts when propositioning them. They rarely turn me down, and if they do, there are plenty of other women in line. Much like my business deals, in my dealings with women, I always come out on top. And they leave happy to have had one night of pleasure. I never let them get too close. It is not a luxury I can afford in my line of work or in the rest of my life either.
The moral of the story: I always get what I want.
And right now, I want this woman. This woman who looks like sin, in a dress so tight I could probably rip it with my teeth—something I plan on doing later—and heels so high it makes her bare legs look like they go on forever. Her dark hair and the thick makeup around her eyes are a direct contrast to her pale skin. The only colors in her ensemble are her pouty red lips and matching shoes.
And yet, there is an innocence about her, something that makes her stand out from the rest of the crowd here to have a good time. I feel a pull towards her that I can’t explain.
I have been watching her move around tonight, watching as she swayed her hips to the music in ways that had an array of images running through my mind. I have seen men set their sights on her and one ballsy child made his way over to her. A thrill ran through me when she did not pay him much heed, rendering my plans of stepping in to get rid of him redundant. Because tonight, she is mine.
As I stare down at her, I watch about six different emotions flash over her face, none of which suggest she does not want this, before she nods.
Smiling, I grab her hand and pause just long enough for her to tell her friends she is leaving, but she does not make a move to do that. She takes a step towards me, never breaking eye contact, and raises her free hand, wrapping it around the back of my neck. She stares up at me for a beat, and I watch as she swallows thickly, seemingly frozen. Unsure, perhaps?
Not one to keep a lady waiting for any reason, I wrap the hand holding hers around her lower back and use the leverage to pull her body flush with mine before I mold my mouth over hers. This means the arm of the hand I’m holding is pinned against her lower back, but she does not seem to mind.
I brush my lips over hers a few times before pulling her bottom lip between my teeth and biting softly. The grip around my neck tightens and she parts her lips, so I slip my tongue inside to brush it over hers. After a few strokes where things heat up considerably, I realize if we do not make our way to the exit soon, I will be taking her on the nearest surface.
I pull away, tugging her hand to lead her to the exit. She matches my strides, wrapping her hand around my bicep as I tuck her into my side. We only make it halfway to the exit with her seductively running her hand over my arm before I pull her into one of the dark hallways and use my body to pin her to the wall.
I crush my lips to hers for a moment before pulling back when she pushes on my chest.
