Page 21 of Red My Lips

“Hell yeah!” Richie’s guest, Warner, exclaims. His enthusiasm tells me he’s got shallow pockets. He’s just here for the ride. His gaudy outfit screams of a man without money, begging for people to think otherwise.

I lead them through the club, pointing out the guest DJ who has the crowd hyped, and the two different bars. My eyes scan the staff behind the counter serving drinks for a glimpse of dark chocolate hair, but come up short.

She must already be getting changed. Good.

Up in the Executive Lounge, the six men spread out on the sofa. Within five minutes, four bottle girls appear with large bottles of champagne and reposado tequila, sparklers blazing. They pump the bottles to the thrumming music, swiveling their hips and shimmying their chests. My eyes scan them briefly before losing any and all interest.

Jill’s not one of them.

She must still be getting dressed. I know she likes to make an entrance.

Lounging on the sofa as the party begins, I watch the chaos unfold around me. But my participation doesn’t start a second before my party favor walks through the door.

Jill struts in like a force to be reckoned with, wearing a sparkly black mini-dress that flashes the lace garters at the tops of her sheer black thigh-high stockings. My mouth waters at the sight of her, my cock stirring to life at the first glimpse. The diamonds sparkling around her neck have me shifting myself in my pants.

She immediately joins the other girls, introducing herself to the guests with her man-killer smile, and sliding behind the bar to make their mixed drink requests. Her eyes connect with every other pair in the room except mine. Her gaze evades me so completely it’s glaringly obvious that she’s making a point not to look at me.

A smile tugs at my lips as jealousy itches through me. I need her attention like an addict jonesing for a hit. Like being pulled by gravity, I follow her behind the bar as she starts mixing a drink. I lean in, caging her against the counter with my arms as I slide in behind her. My chest presses against her back, her luscious ass against my groin.

“My necklace looks really fucking good on you,” I murmur in her ear. I feel the shiver that runs down her spine and smile against her hair. Each breath fills me with the scent of her perfume—something deep, complex, and intoxicating.

Just like her.

“I’m not the type of girl to say no to diamonds, even if they are from psychopath stalkers.” Despite the way her ass is pressing against me and how her breathing has quickened, her tone remains nonchalant.

I want to change that.

“I prefer the term sociopath,” I say smoothly, taking one of my hands from the counter to wrap around her waist. My palm flattens on the soft curve of her lower stomach, my fingertip pressing dangerously close to her pretty pussy. I can almost feel the heat of her through the material of her dress.

“And I prefer not to talk to you.”

“I can think of a few activities we can do that don’t require talking,” I say, unashamed of the hunger in my voice. When the temptation proves too much, I inch my hand down until my middle finger is rubbing her right where I want her. Jill sighs, her hips rolling ever so slightly to chase the friction we both desperately want.

“Hmm, I’d prefer an activity that doesn’t include you.” The retort leaves her sharp tongue easily, but I know my Jill better than that. Her body can’t lie to me.

“You’re such a pretty liar.”

Pulling my hand away, I turn her to face me. My erection presses against her stomach—hot, heavy, and aching for her. I stare down at her and grin at the way her pupils dilate when she looks at me. I know mine are probably big as fucking saucers right now. I’m so turned on.

“Forgive my debt, and maybe I’ll change my mind.”

The spark of defiance in her eyes—the unrelenting need to defy our connection when it serves her purpose—is breathtaking.

Letting the humor drop from my face, I give her a glimpse behind the mask at my soul-deep desire for her. “Not a chance in hell, little devil.”

Jill’s eyes dance between mine as if she’s looking for a tell. She won’t find one, because I’m not fucking bluffing. We stare at each other, locked in our connection, for a long moment. Then, as if her mind finally caught up with her, I watch as Jill’s walls rise firmly back into place. And just like that, the menace is back.

“Then it looks like I won’t be wasting any more time with you tonight. I to need focus on getting other men to open their wallets for me.” She looks down to make a show of adjusting the neckline of her dress, tugging it down a fraction to bring my attention to her incredible cleavage. “Have a good night. I know I will.”

“Go make your money, but don’t waste your energy. You’re gonna need it later when you’re staying late to clean the bar.”

Her eyes narrow into a withering glare that would easily cut any other man at the knees. “Bite me.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Menace,” I murmur before stepping back and rounding the counter. Jill finishes making the mixed drinks while I watch. I see someone join me at the bar in my peripheral vision, but I don’t tear my eyes away from her.

When Jill finally walks out from behind the bar—passing by me without a second glance and obviously fuming—I bite back a grin at the knowledge she’s going to be spending the rest of the night angry.

And she’ll be thinking about me.

---