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“Oh, Christ…” she moaned, and I only had minutes left before I nutted off.
Covering her entire frame with mine, I slid my right arm under her body to wrap my arm around her throat, my hips pushing against her ass, going in as deeply as I could. Her hands were fisted in the sheets, but as long as she wasn’t telling me to stop, then I was going to continue stretching her open.
With my breath hot on her ear, I said, “You’re going to let him take you up to a room, then you’re going to change your mind before he can even kiss you.”
“Declan-”
“It’ll piss him off enough to do what we need him to do,” I went on, fucking her harder. “It’ll be enough, and then it’ll be over.”
“Oh, God…Declan…” she whimpered, and I wasn’t even sure if she was hearing me.
“You’re mine, Keavy,” I grunted, on the edge, my orgasm coming at me fast. “You’re fucking mine, and no other man gets to touch you after tonight.”
“Declan, please…” she begged, and not being able to control myself any longer, I sat up, brought her with me, then played with her pussy while I fucked her ass.
Seconds later, Keavy was cumming for me again, and that’s when I finally released everything that I felt for her, and I knew that there’d be no going back after this.
Chapter 22
Keavy~
While there’d been plenty of times when I’d felt a bit out of my element, I’d never felt uncomfortable in my own skin before, but I was feeling like that now. With the help of a couple of beauty tutorials, my hair was pinned to the top of my head in what was supposed to be a classy bun, some of the strands hung loosely around my face, my makeup was more prominent than usual, and my dress was no more than a silk napkin draped over my body, barely covering anything.
The only thing that I hadn’t been able to pull off were the heels. While they would have gone a long way to sell the look, I didn’t know how to walk in tall heels, and I would have looked like a newborn lamb on untried legs if I had tried to walk in them. The point was to look sexy and tempting, not like I was White-girl wasted.
So, I’d chosen a pair of black kitten heels to go with my black dress, the entire ensemble making me feel like I was naked to every pair of eyes in here. While it was expected that The Wooden Table would be filled with men, the number of them still felt a bit daunting. For every woman that was showcasing her wares in here, there were at least five men that outnumbered her, and if prostitution wasn’t one of the most dangerous professions out there, then I didn’t know what was.
Sitting at the bar, I was pretending to nervously sip my drink, going for the first-timer look. After Declan had finished with me last night, we’d ended up coming up with a compromise to get Cooper Donaldson and to free me from that damn basement. After all, no matter what pretty declarations that Declan had made in bed, I deserved better than a man that would ever put me at risk for business reasons. Hell, for any reason, truth be told.
At any rate, we had agreed that I would play like this was my first time, and that I was only doing it because I had a sick sister that I needed to care for. Since my body was pretty fit and lacked stretch marks, we’d gone against doing it for a child since I didn’t look like I’d ever given birth before. Plus, pretending to be a first timer would play well with me changing my mind once we got to the room.
Now, while The Wooden Table boasted of expensive and tasteful décor, thanks to Declan’s reign of the underworld, I knew that the place had no cameras after you went upstairs. The Wooden Table was a brothel disguised as a gentlemen’s club, and above the bar and lobby were two floors of available rooms for whatever the men paid for. The only cameras in the place were positioned around the building, in the office, and over the bar, all simply to avoid theft because money was always more important than someone’s wellbeing.
Luckily, the lack of cameras worked for what Declan wanted, and as long as Cooper and I didn’t walk up the flight of stairs together, then no one could prove that I’d been with him tonight. The rooms were rented at the bar, and no IDs were needed when handing over the key. Now, knowing that Cooper would probably have his own room, Declan had given me cash to rent one for myself, ensuring that there’d be no guarantee of whose room would be used. At the end of the day, all that was needed for those twelve people was reasonable doubt.
Unfortunately, no one was approaching me, and while not all the women that entertained themselves here were prostitutes, I had no experience on how to broadcast that I could be bought. Despite Declan’s insistence that this plan was going to work, it wasn’t like he’d given me a handbook for beginners. I was winging it here, and I wasn’t doing a very good job.
Wondering if I should just give up, my thoughts were interrupted when I felt the warmth of body heat cradle my left side, and with the nothing of a dress that I was wearing, the feeling actually felt comforting. The temperature was enough to keep nipples peaked and the need for physical activity inviting. Honestly, I could only imagine how much money this place made in one night.
“A new face.” I turned to see Cooper Donaldson’s amber-colored eyes studying me intently. “A very beautiful face, at that.”
Eyeing him this close up, there was no denying that the man was aging handsomely. He still stood tall at about six-foot-one or so, his dark brown hair was peppered with some grey, but it made him look distinguished and powerful, not weak or wilting. His dark lashes made his golden-colored eyes glow beautifully, and looking at him, you’d never suspect that he liked to abuse women. Granted, I only had Declan’s word for that, but I couldn’t imagine the O’Briens going after someone as prominent as Cooper Donaldson if the rumors didn’t have some truth to them.
“Thank you,” I returned politely. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“Not if it’s the truth,” he countered.
I grinned, willing for my cheeks to blush. “Well, thank you nonetheless.”
“I haven’t seen you in here before,” he remarked. “Granted, I’m not in the area often, but when I am, I’m a very loyal patron here.”
There it was.
I fidgeted nervously with my glass. “I’m…uhm, this is my first…uhm, first night…enjoying myself here,” I stammered coyly.
“And what brings you to The Wooden Table?” he asked warmly, our conversation happening between the lines.
I swallowed as I let out a deep breath. “I have some…some things going on, and I…I thought that a night out might…I thought that I needed to relax, maybe.”
