Page 97 of The Price of Forever

“I have no idea how to finish the rest of my shift,” she said, stumbling toward the discarded white mesh top.

I made quick work of slipping my cock back into my briefs and zipping myself up. I could have stayed in here with Jordan for another twelve hours, solely to fuck, but she had things to do. Besides, I knew we’d celebrate round two the first chance we got.

“Well, if you need to bring me in here again to think about things, you know where to find me.”

Jordan laughed as she tugged on her top. But when she bent over to replace her bottoms, she gasped, her hand going between her legs. “Oh my God.”

That could only be surprise about how much she was leaking. “You asked me to do it,” I reminded her with a grin.

“Seven.” She sounded panicked. “I didn’t realize you were going to go all Hoover Dam on me!”

I looked around—there was nothing in here to use. “Are there any towels in here? Otherwise I’ll go to the bathroom, but then you’ll be alone.”

She seemed confused for a moment, then she pointed to my feet. “Right there. It’s a little trap door with sanitizing wipes and paper towels. Can you pass me something?”

I felt around for the little trap door, tugged it open, and ripped off some sheets for her. Sitting on the couch, I beckoned for her to stand in front of me. I wiped up the dribble that had almost reached her knee, then gently cleaned off the moisture on her inner thighs. The purple light made everything different in here, but I could have sworn I caught a blush on her cheeks. I pressed a soft kiss to each thigh before I released her.

“Thanks,” she said.

I stood and caught her chin between my fingers and coaxed a deep kiss from her. When we broke, I said, “I wasn’t lying. Your customers will see my cum dripping down your legs tonight.”

She lifted her chin. “I told you I wanted them to see.”

I grinned, pressing my thumb into her chin. “That’s my girl.”

Once we were both put back together, she still walked unsteadily. I offered my arm. She looked up at me before she opened the door.

“You are just unreal.”

The way she said it sounded like it could either be a compliment or a point of frustration. Maybe it was a little of both. When she pulled open the door, some of the hard edges of her persona clicked back into place. She sent me a flirty look and strutted out into the club. Only I could notice the little wobble in her step.

I liked that. More than I wanted to admit.

I resumed my post along the wall, waiting for Jordan to return from freshening up in the Gems lounge. When she sauntered toward the VIP room about ten minutes later, a smarmy-looking dude in tow, I tried to ignore the way my hands formed fist, the way my heart rate picked up, and the sudden urge to follow them both inside.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself she was just doing her job. Nothing would happen in there with this guy or any other.

But the fact that I already felt the licks of jealousy and possessiveness wasn’t a good sign.

I knew better than to fuck the person I was protecting, but that didn’t mean I was ready to lash myself with regret and shame. No, I was fucking reveling in what we’d just done in the VIP room. It would be a while before the regret could find me. Until then, I planned to conjure up the 364 other ways I planned to fuck her. While staying vigilant, of course.

I scanned the club as I normally did, keeping tabs on the patrons. Looking out for red flags, creepy vibes, and shady activity. Gemstones was surprisingly safe, given my expectations when I first walked in the door. Their clientele was wealthier and better behaved overall, which at least tended to mean the nefarious shit was saved for outside club walls.

But that didn’t mean I let down my guard. Not here, not anywhere, not ever. Every new group that filtered in, I checked out and rated according to my internal security threat scale. Part of it was intuition, which was hard to back up with facts sometimes, but it hadn’t led me astray yet.

Just as Jordan was transitioning from the VIP room to the champagne room for a group of bachelors who wanted drinks and a show, I spotted a group of new arrivals.

Five men, clustered near the front door, dressed in standard-issue designer duds: beige business casual suits, collared polos, enormous watches. They remained clustered by the front door, conferring with the doorman. For a moment, it seemed like there was an issue. The guard’s brows drew together, and then one of the bartenders was summoned. I kept an eye on them as Jordan began entertaining the group of bachelors.

After some tense discussion, Eddie arrived to greet the group of men with a big smile and open arms. Now the group had VIP vibes, though the doorman and bartender still seemed on edge. I watched as Eddie conferred with the blond guy, who seemed to be the leader, then Eddie personally escorted them to a large open table in the middle of the lounge area, facing the stage. The five of them settled in, their smiles varying degrees of smug. They looked to be late twenties and early thirties, and even from my post halfway across the club, I could smell the stink of rich entitlement.

My intuition was pinging already.

Eddie chatted with them for a few moments, then one of the bartenders, Val, flitted over to take their drink orders. As soon as Eddie stepped away, one of the men reached out and squeezed Val’s ass. She swatted at his hand, playing it coy, but I was put off by the groping.

The longer I spied on this group, the more they raised my hackles. I already knew groups like these for what they were: troublemakers; men who pushed the envelope until it ripped. Usually abnormally wealthy or abnormally famous. I kept an eye on them during my club-wide surveillance. At one point, Joss brought over a tray full of shots from the bar, handing out two each. They were clearly here to party.

Jordan wrapped up in the champagne room after about a half hour. Eddie approached her as the men filtered out, grinning like idiots. He pulled her aside, discussing something with her that prompted a frown to form on her face.

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