Equity (Balance Sheet #3) (16 page)

“No, I’m not. There is nothing going on between Kalen and me. And I’m not here to bust up whatever you’ve got going with him. I’m not even mad,” I said, not sure why I felt I had to say all that.

“Really?” she questioned skeptically.

“Really. I’m just here until tomorrow and then I go back to DC.”

“Awe,” Suz crooned. “I thought maybe we could hang out.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I actually kind of liked her. “We always have tonight.”

“How about we blow this joint and go dancing? I know just the place.” It wasn’t Suz who spoke. It was my competition. I didn’t want to think of her that way and I didn’t want to make this a party of six.

“Now that sounds like fun,” Suz chimed in.

Once we made it back to the table, everything changed. The guys looked anxious as we approached. Even Kalen watched me. I bet he wondered what I’d said about him to his date.

Griff traded a glance with Kalen before he spoke to me. “I’m a shite.”

“What’s a shite?” Suz asked.

“Okay, wanker. I’m a wanker.”

“Wanker. We don’t talk like that here. Tell her you’re an asshole,” Suz insisted.

He gave her a smile that spoke volumes. He liked her, maybe even a lot.

“Fine. I’m an asshole.” It was funny how he tried to imitate her accent which made me partially smile. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sorry.”

I nodded at him, not wanting to accept, but how could I not?

“That’s good, because we’re headed to the hottest club in New York,” Kinsey declared.

It could have been Kalen or the billionaire’s daughter. But we walked from the limo straight to the door, bypassing the line of those who wanted inside. With barely a word, we were waved in. Brian and I were sandwich in between Kalen and the beauty queen in the front of our pack, with Griffith and Suz taking up the rear.

Earlier, Brian had squeezed my hand under the table back at the restaurant shortly after my return from the bathroom. We hadn’t had an alone moment to talk, but I took that to mean, he wasn’t mad at me. It would be weird when we finally got alone and spoke. Then again, maybe Kalen had filled him in. Although I doubted he told Brian just how many orgasms he’d given me. Or maybe I could share with my date how many I had at night just dreaming about Kalen. Yeah, not so much.

The guys had gone straight to a VIP room to talk business, which had been the purpose of tonight’s dinner I’d found out on the ride over. As an accountant, I knew how many golf games, dinner parties, and the like were written off because of an hour conversation about
business
.

Suz and I decided to stay in the main part of the club. Kinsey surprised me. She apparently didn’t have a need to be the object of every guy’s attention because she stayed with us when I saw that she’d wanted to go with them. Go her, but with her killer looks, she could have any man she wanted. She had no need to make a nuisance of herself.

It didn’t take much after the dinner fiasco for the two of them to talk me into taking shots. I was at the point where I had no clue how many I’d downed. I assumed I was in a safe environment. Kalen was there. He would protect me, my drunken brain rationalized. Had I been sober, I would have known that to be a long shot.

“What is this called?” I slurred.

Suz giggled loudly, or so I thought. I caught her wide grin as I viewed the drink in front of me.

Kinsey, who’d drank as much as I, didn’t sound the least bit drunk. She answered, “It’s called a blow job.”

I threw my head back and giggled. Upside down, I met brilliant blue eyes. “What blue eyes you have,” I said, turning to face the guy right side up. He was cute and I didn’t have a boyfriend. There was no harm in flirting.

“The better to see your gorgeous face,” Mr. Blue Eyes said.

“You’re beautiful too,” I said wistfully. “And I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you have a boyfriend?”

His brows quirked. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. How about dancing with me?”

“Sure,” I said, nodding, about to get to my feet.

A hand clamped down on my wrist. “Wait,” Kinsey said.

I mouthed in the most obvious slow way because it was loud and she probably couldn’t hear me.
He is super cute
. Kinsey nodded and Suz giggled.

“But drink first,” Kinsey admonished.

“Oh, yeah,” I said to both Kinsey and the guy while I bounced like a bobble head. “I have to do a blow job first.”

He sputtered. And I continued to giggle. “You like blow jobs, right?” I asked him with as much seriousness as an intoxicated person could.

For the life of me in my drunken state, I didn’t know why he nodded while eying his friends. I turned around in my seat, hoping the guy would still be there when I finished with my drink.

“Wait,” Kinsey said still holding my arm. “You have to lick the whipped cream off the side and top and take the whole glass in your mouth and toss back the contents without using your hands.” Her instructions were confirmed by the bartender who was suddenly there. He was kind of cute too with spikey hair and tats showing like sleeves on his arm.

“And spitters are quitters, right guys,” I said before a chorus of shouts came from behind. When had we gotten an audience? No matter. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

Each of us had a shot before us. With hands clasped behind our backs, we went for it. I licked the foamy goodness and encased my mouth over the top, not bothering to scoop the rest of the cream out with my tongue. I tossed back my head with the shot glass firmly in my mouth. The liquid scalded my throat. I held my lids closed a second before my throat cleared everything. I set the glass back down and released my month.

The bartender said, “And we have a winner.”

More shouts and I noticed the girls were done as well. I spun my chair around causing me to feel dizzy. Still I didn’t wait to hear which one of us won. “About that dance,” I said to blue eyes.

He helped me to my feet as I swayed. Off of the high bar stool, the guy towered over me. I didn’t have time to analyze him before he was leading me into the throng of bodies on either side of me swaying to the beat. I had no idea where I was going because only tall people came to this club.

All my cares didn’t seem to matter for the first time in months. Even though I missed Lizzy and Violet like crazy, Suz and Kinsey turned out to be way cool. I danced with abandonment, just working the beat around me.

The music took a down turn in tempo. It was kind of a dark and mysterious song. I’d worked off some of my buzz through the string of songs. Blue eyes pulled me close and rolled his hips over mine, staring at me with intense eyes. His focus was solely on me. I was caught, unable to decide what to do as his lips slowly and methodically came closer to mine.

My first wild thought was that blue eyes was a vampire because suddenly he wasn’t there. I realized my assumptions were all wrong when green eyes replaced the blue ones and they weren’t at all happy to see me.

“Hey man,” the blue eyes protested, stumbling his way back over to where I was.

“Beat it,” Kalen threatened, not even bothering to look at him.

I spotted Kalen’s wing man, Griffith, eying the guy. Blue eyes rubbed at his jaw. Had Kalen punched him? Deciding two against one weren’t odds in his favor, blue eyes gave me one last mournful look. With pursed lips I nodded, letting the guy’s conscience free of any worry towards my safety. He loped off. Ire burned off more of my drunkenness.

Griffith all but shouted. “I’ll find Brian, boyo.”

I turned, the last of my buzz soured. Kalen snaked an arm around my waist. “I warned you,” he said. “You’re lucky he didn’t kiss you.”

“You’re like a dog trying to mark your territory. You don’t want me. You just don’t want anyone to have me,” I sneered.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He spoke in my ear. “I want you gone from my thoughts. But you just keep showing up.”

“Let me go and I’ll leave your sight.”

“Not until I have my fill.” He kissed me like he planned to screw me right here on the dance floor.

“You can’t have it both ways.” I protested pulling back.

With eyes that spoke of all the wicked promises he could fulfill, he weaved us through the crowd with a death grip on my arm. We entered a room labeled VIP. He didn’t stop there. He pulled us through another door off to the side.

“Should be familiar,” he said without raising his voice. I easily heard him because the music was just background noise in that space.

My hand rose, poised to slap him as he made the crude link to our first time together in a hotel bathroom stall. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. Obediently, I lowered my hand.

“Just tell me to stop,” he said, crowding me at the granite top of the vanity. It filled one end of the tiny restroom. My butt stopped at the edge. Smoothly he lifted me to sit atop the thing. With practiced hands, he spread my thighs apart as he wedged himself between them.

I said nothing, lost in the remembrance of the feel of him. I began to irrationally reason internally that this might be the last time I’d ever have him. He ripped holes in my lace boy shorts until it was useless as underwear. He freed himself and probed my entrance.

“Always wet for me, aren’t you Lass?”

“Fuck you,” I said with all the boldness I could muster. Yet, I hadn’t told him to stop or shoved him away.

“I will.” And he filled me like no other. My head dropped back to thump against the mirror behind me. I enjoyed the delicate balance of pleasure and pain that only came with Kalen’s girth.

“Mine,” he growled at my ear and bit my lobe before grazing his teeth down the line of my throat.

My breathing quickened as he masterfully thrust into me to the rhythm of the music playing. I was left empty in the space of a second. He spun me around and bent me forward. I nearly smeared lipstick on the glass that was too close for comfort. Before I could ask, he pushed into me again. Not expecting it, I did end up creating a messing lip print on the mirror.

His answer was to grab my hair and tug my head back almost to the point of pain. He pushed my shoulders down at the same time, my breasts filling in the tiny sink bowl. “That’s it, Lass. Watch me fuck you.” The man had tentacles not arms because touched me everywhere. He freed one of my breasts and pinched my nipple hard.

This was a far cry from our tryst yesterday. There was no tenderness to his punishing strokes. There was a jolt of pain with every thrust as he tapped the end of me. I couldn’t process, the pleasure from the pain. It was intense, especially when he left my bra to rub against the bottom of my sensitive nipple from his continued assaults on my senses.

“If you wanted to be fucked, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to rub up against some bawbag who wouldn’t know a clit from a g-spot.”

To illustrate, his next stroke made my bundle of nerves bang against the lip of the counter. “That Lass, is your clit.” In the mirror, I watched him roll his hips as I squeaked from the extreme feeling. “And that Lass, is your g-spot.” The man was a sex god. I was ready to bow down and kneel at his feet.

“If you need a fuck buddy, I can handle the job. That, however, is all I can offer you.”

Before I could feel the sting of shame from his words, he managed to hit both pleasure spots internally and externally at the same time while he jack hammered in and out of me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk out on my own when he was finished.

He leaned down, continuing to pump while he whispered in my ear. “I’m the only one that knows just how you like it.” He kissed and sucked at the tender flesh of my neck before he rose up again. I didn’t think I could take anymore sensations with his hand still fisting in my hair, forcing me to watch myself get fucked from behind.

“You’re ready, aren’t you,” he said in a guttural voice. He was getting close. Just like he knew me, I knew him as well.

In the mirror, I caught sight of a lost clown who got stuck in a downpour. It sucked that it was my own reflection. My makeup was smeared. A path of mascara that defied its waterproof name tracked with the tears I didn’t know had fallen. My lipstick was a one way line from my lips almost to my right ear. I certainly didn’t look sexy, yet the orgasm that was ready to blow said I felt otherwise.

“I can feel your cunt tightening around me. Come for me.”

I nodded, wanting that explosion below despite the state I was in. I swallowed a scream that I held in my throat, wanting to hold on to some dignity. Proving me wrong, he bucked against my g-spot and the screech I tried to hold in, released. With my head still jerked back, I saw the smug expression on his face. I closed my eyes and rode out the pleasure.

When he finally pulled out, having achieved his own release, I stumbled forward after he let go of my hair. Weak from pleasure and still inebriated, I managed to turn without falling. I had a strong need to slap him. My arms flailed around in an attempt to make contact. “Bastard,” I cursed.

“Some call me that.” Faster and more in control, he avoided my lame attempts to hit him. Instead, he laughed at me. “You should clean that up,” he said while tucking himself back in his pants.

Pointedly his eyes first took in the state of my face. Then, I followed his gaze to the wetness I felt begin to drip from my center. My eyes burned and not with tears. Rage. His chuckles were the last think I heard as he let himself out of the bathroom. That was further evidence this was different than the night before. Then he’d taken the time to tenderly straighten my clothes. Today, not so much.

I finally understood the meaning of a word. I had been thoroughly and uttered
fucked
.

Turning in the mirror, I stood in horror. I’d seen my destroyed makeup. I expected my dress to be bunched around my waist. I’d spied his come dripping down my leg before realizing he hadn’t used a condom. But what pissed me off, was that the fucker had marked me. Like a freaking teenager, I had a hickey on my neck.

Furious, I squirted liquid soap on my hands and mixed it with warm water. I washed my face in what was probably a no-no by every dermatologist ever. I scrubbed hard as I not only tried to wash away the make-up but also my broken feelings.

Maybe I deserved this? I’d hurt him by sleeping with Turner. Did I really expect him to forgive and forget? Did I really expect him to understand that I’d made a mistake? He was a proud guy and according to his mother had been through a lot. Hadn’t everyone including himself told me he loved me? And what did I do? I spat on his love and gave mine to another man. And instead of having one of them, I had neither.

I took copious amount of time to clean myself up. Brian deserved better than finding out his date screwed his potential business partner in the VIP bathroom. I used a half a roll of toilet paper to clean myself below the waist before I tackled the upper half. I managed to get most of the epically failed smear and waterproof mascara off despite my continued tears. Only small smudges remained just beneath my eyelashes. I used fresh eyeliner and hoped that in the darkened club, no one would see the evidence of my shame. I tried to cover up the hickey as best I could. Finally, I straightened my clothes to stare at myself in the mirror.