Page 17 of Promiscuous Lies

Mike leans in and quietly whispers, “He’s never personally driven any of the girls home.”

“Well then, it might be your lucky night.” I nudge his shoulder.

He laughs as he throws his hands in the air and yells, “Shotgun for the back!”

Dutton finishes his call and opens the doors for both of us. Mike doesn’t even try to hide his smile, and it’s contagious as I try to hide my own as I slip into the front.

“I feel so bougie,” Mike whispers as Dutton walks around the car. “There’s so much space back here, you two could fuck in here, for sure.”

“You have a one-track mind.” I laugh.

“Yeah, I’m a man. And, also, girrrl, you’ve seen him… That man is a snack.”

“And an asshole,” I quip.

“Arichasshole,” he sing-songs before Dutton opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat.

“Do I want to know what you two are giggling about?” Dutton asks as he starts the engine.

I drop my head back against the seat and smile. “I was just saying this car is fancy, and I wonder if you’d hate me if I spilled something in it.”

He doesn’t reply, which I take to mean he regrets asking me. He shoots a glance down at the bags at my feet.

There’s barely any traffic at this time of night, and we start our drive to Mike’s house after he tells Dutton the address. Mike giggles in the back as he shows me a profile of an attractive man, then whispers, “It’s actually his address I’m going to, but who cares.”

I smirk, envious of his freedom to bounce through men. Prioritizing myself and my needs has been long forgotten since having Bentley. And the thought of bringing anyone around Bentley horrifies me. Then again, maybe having a fuckbuddywith no strings attached isn’t a bad idea. It’s been a while since I’ve seriously thought about it.

I know Dutton intentionally asked Mike his address so he could drop him off first. He already knows my address, but Mike doesn’t need to know that. It will only give him more fuel for his speculation that something is going on between me and our boss.

I side-eye Dutton as Mike makes small talk with him about cars and motorcycles. Neither of which I have any interest in.

I take the time to study Dutton’s face. It’s truly cruel how beautiful he is. Even his shirts, which are likely made to fit so tightly, effortlessly show off the lean muscle underneath. And those eyes? Even in the dark, with only flashes of the streetlights, they look like a brewing storm. The shadow of growth around his jaw looks like it’ll leave some serious beard burn, and those fucking lips look like they could do some damage.

He glances my way, and I immediately avert my gaze, realizing I was staring for too long.

I mean, I can’t imagine he’d be that bad of a lay. I think back on when I danced for him, and the size of the dick I felt pressing against his fly felt more than adequate. A heat begins to pound between my legs, and I try my hardest to ignore it. There’s something about this man that puts me on edge. Most likely because he’s, without a doubt, dangerous, and that’s never gotten me into good situations. I should be running the other way, and yet, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit he’s attractive.

When we park in front of the address Mike gave, he stops singing whatever was on the radio and jumps out of the car. Coming to my door, he pulls it open, leans in, and kisses my cheek before he starts singing another song as he skips his way to the apartment building for a rendezvous I’m most likely going to hear all about on our next shift together.

Without Mike, a palpable silence and tension fill the car.

It might be the slight buzz of alcohol or the encouragement from Mike, or maybe the frustrating pounding between my legs that has me deadpanning, “So, I know you said you don’t fuck your employees, but what about giving and receiving head?”

CHAPTER 9

Dutton

Did she say what I think she did? I immediately pull over and turn to face her. She smiles at me, and I don’t think she meant it because she likes to toy with me. However, I take it very seriously especially since this little vixen has been haunting my dreams, unsolicited, for the last two weeks.

“You want me to fuck you with my mouth, Posie?”

She shrugs casually. “Was just a question.”

Not only do I want to uncover her association with the Boston Delinquents, but I’ve also never met a person who so easily says no to me, but she also equally intrigues me. And every time she challenges me, I want to see how far I can push her. How much is she able to take before she crumbles?

“Get in the back,” I order as I get out of the car. I pull open the back door, and she’s staring at me in disbelief. I’m not wasting any fucking time on this invitation as I impatiently wait outside the car, parked beside a bush.

“There are cars driving past; we’re on a busy street,” she blurts, shocked.

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