Page 10 of The Devil's Secret

“I thought you left,” a voice says from behind me, the one belonging to the woman I should want nothing to do with.

I down the liquor in one shot, needing the burn to sustain me, to keep me from grabbing that delicate neck of hers and kissing her like I’ve wanted to from the moment we met.

I push the glass down on the bar, still giving her my back.

“Are you mad at me?” she continues, her hand snaking around to my front, riding up my abs, those long nails running over each one. Her body moves closer now, her tits splayed over my shirt. “I bet I can make you feel better, handsome.”

My palm catches her wrist, gripping firm, yet softly, as I sharply turn. “What the fuck is this?” I snap, barely containing my wrath. She’s treating me like all the rest of them. Like I’m here for her pussy. Like this is some game.

She tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean?” But that little sexy smirk tells me she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

I lower my mouth so close to hers, I bet she can taste my liquor on her tongue. “I’m not here to be treated like your groupie.”

She scoffs, trying to yank her hand out of my grasp, narrowing her gaze. I flash her a glare, finally allowing her to take her hand back.

“I thought you came today to buy a dance, or did you change your mind?” There’s a spark lighting a path in her eyes, making my cock throb. That’s what I want to see—fragments of the real her, not whoever she pretends to be for the crowd.

“I didn’t change my mind.” My tone’s clipped, wanting my hands on her, wanting to know the sounds she makes when a man makes her feel really good. But for the first time in my life, I’m not after that. The goal is to be her friend, to get her to trust me enough to confide in me so that I can help her.

“So, what kind of dance would you like?” She pops a brow. “A private one?”

“How much?”

“A grand for thirty minutes.”

I cross my arms over my black, long-sleeved T-shirt. “I’ll take an hour.”

“There’s so much we can do in an hour.” Her red-painted lips twist into a smile. “You sure there’s nothing else I can do for you in all that time?”

A taunting chuckle breaks from my chest before my palm dives for the back of her neck, pulling her to my lips. “Are you offering me your pussy?” My other hand slips to her hip, fingers squeezing the hard edges and the softness in between. “Is that what’s for sale?”

Her fingers brush over my shoulder, settling on the back of my head, her sharp nails biting into my scalp as she draws away just enough to look into my eyes. “Everything’s for sale if the price is right.”

Why are you doing this? Why the fuck are you lying to me as though this is what you want?

But even if I were to ask, she wouldn’t tell me the truth. She doesn’t trust me yet, but she will. She and I will get to know each other, and I will learn everything I need to.

“We’ll start with a dance…” My mouth nears hers, and I wonder what she really tastes like when she drops that façade. “Then we’ll see where it goes.”

Her lips tip upward, her eyes delving into mine, unrelenting, tightening with my own ruthless gaze.

She grabs my hand, softness enveloping my calloused fingers. “Come with me.” I follow as she pulls me into the back, a dimly lit area with multiple curtained-off rooms greeting us.

She heads for the one that’s empty, a long L-shaped upholstered sofa on one side, with a circular table beside it, and a pole all the way across. She closes off the curtains, picking up a bottle from the bar in the corner.

“Have a seat.” She points to the sofa. “Don’t be shy.”

The music from the main area travels through the speakers in the ceiling above as she saunters over to where I still stand, the bottle in her palm, my fist clenched at my side.

“You don’t have to take off your clothes for me, Joelle.” My attention wanders to her face, those full lips, those high cheekbones. She’s too beautiful to be stuck doing this. “I’ll help you, whatever you need.”

Damn it.It’s like I can’t turn it off, wanting to rescue her and shit. What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I read her wrong. Maybe she wants this.

She palms my chest, her gaze threading with mine, and then she pushes me down onto the leather below. I don’t resist. I go down willingly. Her body settles over my thighs, the bottle tipped to her lips as she takes a long sip, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Stop worrying about me.” She flashes me a serious look. “Here.” And then the tip of the bottle is at my mouth as she lifts it up. “Maybe this will help relax you.”

I jerk the bottle away from her as soon as the first taste of whiskey trickles down my throat, drifting with a steady burn. I take another sip before shifting forward, a hand winding around her back as I drop the liquor down onto the table to my right.

---