Page 58 of Queen Of Dark Money

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

RAFE

Assholeswho couldn’t park.

Reasonthree thousand, five hundred, and eighty-two whyIhatedRiver’sfucking clubs.

Thewomen were alright, though.Andtonight was amateur night, where the girls got a break and opened the poles up to anyone in the city who wanted to see what it felt like for all eyes to be on you for a moment.Sometimes,Riverused these nights to scout new business, and sometimes, he just hid in his office all night and pretended to be busy–usually with a stripper or two in there, no doubt sucking or fucking their way up the ladder to the better nights and time blocks.

Ifound him in his office tonight, likeI’dexpected, fawning over some bitchI’ddefinitely seen before.Lasttime, though,Ithink she’d been bent over his desk with a stupid smile on her face whileRiverfucked into her from behind.

Classybroad, that one.

Ithink her name was, hmmmm, maybeDiamond, or something cheezy like that.

Somekind of gem.

Icleared my throat, and she looked over her shoulder at me, uncrossing her legs to flash her boss a shot of her probably barecrotch before crossing them again.Hergrin made me sick for some reason.Usually,Iwent for those kinds of hoes.Theones who were easy for the right price or a flash of your fancy car keys.Maybelet her catch a glimpse of the platinum or black card in your wallet kind of girl.

Nottonight, though.Iwanted a challenge.Iwanted someone who would push back.

Iwanted to seeheragain.

“RiverBlake, you’re sure starting all the parties without me these days.”

Heglanced up from his desk, his eyes glassy and unfocused.Fuck, this dude was already three sheets to the wind.Iwouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t string together a functional sentence.Hisleft hand rested halfway up the neck of a wine bottle from the bar, its contents all but gone.Hisright rested right next to those inviting thighs, temptation to the max, but unmoving.

Thebitch’s eyes fell to his hand, and she pouted so prettilyIthought for sure he’d give in.Halfexpected him to reach up her skirt and start finger fucking her to assert his dominance.Instead, he moved his hand from the table and put it in his lap, turning away from her to gag on his own tongue.

“Getlost,Sapphire,” he growled, shoving her off the side of his desk.Shehuffed and trotted out the door, dragging her too-long nails across my chest as she went.

Ishivered, and not in a good way, as the door closed behind her.

Riverpinned me with that glassy, far-off stare and hiccuped, listing to the side. “Whatthe fuck brings you here tonight,Rafe?”

Ishook my head and sauntered over to the armchair across from him, getting comfortable. “Icame to play,Blake.Ialways do.”

“Butnot with me,” he snapped, lifting the bottle to his lips again. “Notthis time, right?”

Ishrugged.WhatcouldIdo, deny the truth?He’dsee right through it.Healways did. “Correct.Notyou tonight, buddy.”Ilet my hands rise in the air, outlining curves that belonged to the woman who’d plagued my every waking moment for two days now. “Iwant something that fills out a skirt better thanI’msure you do,River.”

Hewaved a hand toward the poles, sighing as he slumped in his chair again. “Amateurnight.Boundto be some thick bitches up there trying their hand tonight.”

Theannouncer called out a new contestant in the ever-cycling rotation of new girls and wannabe fakes.Ishrugged; there was no time like the present to dive into some free pussy. “Sure,I’llgo and see what’s up.”Igave him a once-over again, disgusted by the man staring back at me. “Youdon’t look like you’d be much company right now, anyhow.”

Iwas familiar with every inch of this club, having spent so much time in it.Butnothing could prepare me for the line of girls waiting for the pole tonight.

Therewere girls of every size, shape, and color standing there, clad in outfits ranging from bikinis to jeans and oversized tee shirts.Mostcame in around the middle, in some scantily clad getups that made my mouth salivate a little.

Awoman in the middle of the line caught my attention, andIlet my gaze zero in on her for a moment, trying to puzzle out why she drew my gaze like none of the others.

Herhair was pulled back in a ponytail that fell over her shoulder in thick curly waves, complimenting the hot pink tube top that barely held her tits in place.Belowthat was a matching skirt that looked more uncomfortable than sitting on hot coals, but somehow, the plastic thing still had a bounce in its pleats.Ilicked my lips as she shifted and popped out a hip, and the curve of her ass became just barely visible beneath them.Herlong legs trailed down from an ass that wasn’t too big or too small, butperfectly proportioned for her body, to those deliciously thick thighs, and down to her feet, which were encased in some sort of pink combat boots that somehow pulled the whole look together.Shehad a bunny mask on her face, like all the other girls, but where theirs were black or white, a few even glittery, hers was neon pink, as bright and standoffish as her clothes.

Theclub valued anonymity when the amateur night was on, a nod to security and privacy for girls who might not be used to men leering at them like they were meat–

Whowere we kidding?Mendid that to every woman on the planet.Theywere used to it by now, in this city.

Iwatched as girl after girl tried her hand at the pole, all to different songs that were popular on the radio or old enough to date the woman who chose it until it wasPinky’sturn.I’dtaken to referring to her by that moniker because no matter how many timesIblinked,Icouldn’t escape the blinding brightness of her clothes.

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