Filthy Desire (The Dirty Kings of Vegas)

I tell her to come back to my room tonight. She’s only going to be with me so I can keep her safe.

That’s what I tell myself. And her. She says it again.

“You can do whatever you want with me, Liam. Anything at all.”

She’s a virgin. I’m sure of it.

I want her here with me to protect her. But how will I keep her safe from me?

Jack waits in the den.

I tell him, “Don’t get up.” He offers me a drink, but I ignore him. He sits back. I stand over him.

“I left you to run the drugs business here. Why have you dropped the ball?”

He smiles, “Liam, relax. You’re still getting the regular payments. What difference does it make to you how we do the business?”

Jack has lost his grip on more than just the business. He knows a man could get himself killed talking to me like that.

My eyes narrow. “What’s happened to you, Jack?”

“I told you, Liam. Relax. I’ll get it straightened out if you care so much, though I can’t see why the fuck you do.”

I lean toward him. “It reflects badly on me. On the family. We’ve got a way of doing business. We have a reputation.”

“You care about your reputation with a few junkies?”

He’s so close to the edge now.

“It’s sloppy, Jack.” I don’t know if it’s the angry contempt in my voice or the simple reality check, but he blinks like I threw cold water over him.

“Okay, Liam. Fair enough.” He lifts his hands. “You’ve come all this way. It matters to you and it’s your business. I’ll get a hold of it. We’ll clear this up.”

“And don’t risk getting my fucking turf mixed up in corporate fucking intellectual property law.” He looks baffled. I lay it out. “Stop selling prescription drugs, Jack. Knock-offs or not. Cut that product line.”

I can see in his eyes that this has come totally out of left field. My eyes narrow. “You didn’t know that was happening.”

And now I’ve got the picture.

“You’re trusting my business to Aaron. You’re leaving him in charge of my patch. Aren’t you? Admit it.”

His eyebrows point up. “It’s business, Liam.“ His hands are palms up and his shoulders rise. “I’m just delegating.”

“You’re delegating my reputation to a punk who doesn’t know what he’s doing, Jack. Worse, he’s too arrogant to care. And if you can’t see what’s wrong with this picture, then you’re an even bigger idiot than he is.”

His voice is quiet. He’s red in the face. His eyes flicker down. “I’ve told you I’ll fix it, Liam.” He takes a breath. Ready to add, Don’t worry, but he thinks better of it.

I don’t know how I’m going to get past what he’s done to Tegan. And I wonder if it’s as bad as what I suspect.

Chapter Seven

Tegan

I don’t go back downstairs. Here in his room, I feel safe in the tang of testosterone and the darker man scents. Traces of him. I close my eyes and try to remember the feeling of his shirt. The cool, crisp, heavy cotton. Pale sapphire cufflinks that match his eyes.

However much I want to, I won’t go through his things. All I allow myself is to open the wardrobe. Feel the cool cottons and silks of his suits and shirts. His ties. And his heavy belts.

When I imagine the weight of his tread on the stairs, waves of tingling anticipation wash through me. Most likely, he will take one look at me and scowl. Then he’ll shoo me out like a stray cat. But I love his scowl.

And his scents. I recall the hard gleam in his eye, the heat of his solid, muscled trunk. And I remember the pulses in his body. I can recreate all that from memory. But not his scent.

He might spank me again. Or maybe he would take out one of those belts. There’s a wide black one. Old. Soft from wear. But heavy.

If I take it out of the wardrobe, just to feel it, will he be angry with me?

I remember how all the scents around him stirred me. The tang and the strange, manly sweetness. But I can’t call them up. Not like the image of his pants, stretched over his huge swelling. Or the strength in his hand. Striking. Then gripping. Then stroking.

The wide leather is shiny and smooth on the outside. Rough on the inside. Heavy and strong. Like him.

Curled up on the bed, I try not to disturb his sheets and pillows. Liam’s big belt is soft against my cheek. I twitch as I drag it over the soft backs of my thighs. I pull the smooth side over my ass, against the cheek where he spanked me. So hard. That hot sting.

My body remembers his hand. His hard thigh. The contours of his long ridge that I slid back and forth along. He must have known what a filthy mind I have. I’m surprised he didn’t punish me more.