Even Better (Stripped 2.50)

“It is, damn it.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “This is your place as much as mine now. I just got too set in my bachelor ways, and West feels so much like family that I guess I didn’t realize he wouldn’t be for you.”

I make a face. “Hopefully not too much like family, considering.”

He gives me a wry look. “And just so we’re clear, you have nothing to be grateful for. You’re here because I want you here. If you wanted to leave, I’d do everything in my power to get you to stay. In fact, it’s probably best we don’t get into details, because it might qualify as more than a little creepy.”

My heart gives a thump. Maybe that would scare off some girls, but I’m not like them. I’ll never have their kind of blind confidence, not after what I’ve seen. I’ve been shuffled around and shoved out of so many places, I barely know what it’s like to sit still. The Grand was th

e closest thing I had to a stable environment—and even I know how pathetic that is. Having a man tell me he’d do anything to keep me means more than a hundred sweet whispered words.

I climb onto his lap, feeling his hard cock against my thigh. “And if I want to stay?”

“Even fucking better,” he murmurs, his gaze trained between my legs.

Just a lift of my hips and he’s notched against my pussy. Large hands grasp me, holding me down. With a grunt, he pushes upward, hard cock splitting my slick skin. I moan against the invasion, struggle just enough to know I can’t get away.

The glint in his eyes says he likes the fight, so I wriggle again. His hands tighten, ten points of pain along my skin. Then we roll, and he’s on top of me, thrusting inside me, fucking me into the bed until I can’t see anything but his face, can’t feel anything but his body. I’m wrapped up so tight I can’t imagine ever being free again—and he’s right, so right. It’s even fucking better this way, exactly where he wants me, exactly where I need to be.

Chapter Five

“Thanks for the ride,” West says.

I hang a right at the street light. Blue’s condo is in the rebuilt part of Tanglewood, convenient to the glossy high-end shops and even the nursing home with Mrs. Owens. The strip malls grow a little darker, a little more run-down as we head toward the Grand. The club is on the cusp of downtown, between the new and the old—like the looking glass leading into a different world.

“No problem,” I say after a pause. “And speaking of, Blue mentioned that you were planning to buy a car. We could take a look this afternoon if you want.”

“That would be great.”

And another awkward silence descends. Damn.

We’d gotten along so well, but after last night…

The farther we get from home, the more storefronts are boarded up, the more graffiti decorates the old brick. They’re from a time when buildings were made to last, and so they continue to stand, testament to a different era, reminders of all that we’ve lost. The Grand is one of the few places that can attract a crowd for several blocks, perverted and dark, but a revival just the same.

I clear my throat. “Listen, about last night…”

“I shouldn’t have stayed,” he says, sounding contrite.

“Um, what?”

“I knew I was intruding on personal time, and it wasn’t a great impression to make on you. On anyone, really, but especially you. It’s obvious how important you are to Blue, and that means you’re important to me too.”

I chance a glance at him and find his expression completely earnest. “You know we knew you were there,” I say. “It wasn’t like we just started banging and you popped popcorn or something.”

He grins, a little sheepish. “Maybe not, but I enjoyed every second of the show. But that doesn’t change the fact that I had met you only a couple days before then.”

“I’ve taken my top off for complete strangers. As you’ll see when we get to the Grand.”

“And they stayed strangers. I’m hoping to settle down here, which means I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

That’s kinda sweet. And strange. I’m not used to men trying to be honorable and shit. Even Blue took me for his own selfish reasons, something I continue to find hot. It’s nice being treated like I’m someone worth knowing, from a man who’s not trying to get me into bed. Well, assuming he’s not trying to get me into bed.

“Thank you,” I say uncertainly, pulling into the parking lot.

His watchful gaze takes in the landscape, from the bums peeking around the corner at my car to the dry, crumbling fountain in front of the club. Maybe another woman would be intimidated by it, but I worked here too long, was fed and protected by this place, to ever really fear it.

“What do you think?” I ask, even though I’m nervous to hear the answer. Anything he says to condemn it would probably be true, but for some reason I want him to like it.

I guess in the same way he wants me to like him.