Page 9 of Neverland

Chapter 3

NOW

“Babe, did you see that guy on the tip rail?” Monique asked, eyes wide open in amazement. She was taking the stage after me and had been peering from behind the curtain.

“No, why?” My mind had been elsewhere, as it always was when he played that song.

“He was waving a wad of cash at you and you completely ignored him.”

Taking my silk robe from the hook, I wrapped it around my naked body and tied the rope tight. Monique was the club’s only black exotic dancer. She was striking in every sense of the word and had a good heart to match. Her mood, however, changed in a heartbeat. With cautious eyes darting back down the hall, she wrapped her soft fingers around my wrist and pulled me close.

“Be careful, Lucy. He’s on the rampage,” she warned loud enough for only me to hear. Her song began to play and bit her bottom lip with worry.

“Go. I’ll be fine,” I encouraged, thankful she had my back. Squeezing my wrist, she let go and disappeared behind the curtain. Monique, more than anyone, suspected that something wasn’t quite right with me working at the club. I’d never divulged the truth, not even to Blaze. But Monique knew because she observed and drew her own conclusions, which ultimately held some truth. Clutching my robe to steady my shaking hands, I stared down the dim hall where half-naked girls darted between rooms, some with urgency knowing they were up next on stage or expected in the VIP lounge, while others engaged in casual chats while eating their dinner.

I needed to dress for the VIP lounge, but before I’d even started the short journey, I was given my second clue that something was wrong. The two girls who stood by the door suddenly and notably changed their demeanor. Taking one look at me, they ceased conversation, bodies growing rigid, expressions stony. In silent agreement, the girls disappeared into a second room, its light disappearing as they locked the door behind them.

“Shit!’ I mouthed, feeling the urge to run and hide. A lot of the girls less observant than Monique, treated me like a pariah, too scared to get too close in case that inevitably brought them closer to him. To them, I was the girl with a big red target on my back. And they weren’t wrong.

Reaching the dressing room, I practically ran to my station to find my day clothes and decided to tell Momma G, the club mom, to say I’d fallen ill. But it was too little, too late. I’d only had time to pull on my underwear before I heard him.

“Get out,” a deep voice ordered from the door. Abandoning my bag, I slowly rose to my feet and faced him.

The girls in the process of putting on makeup were startled, their eyes flicking back and forth between us in their mirrors.

“Now!” he barked, causing tubes of mascara and lipstick to clatter onto the tables, chairs hurriedly scraping along the polished concrete floor. Ill-prepared for their upcoming set, the girls scurried out, leaving me alone with the man everyone feared. They were the lucky ones.

Slamming the door behind them, Dominic’s lips forming a derisive smile. Here I was, alone with him, knowing full well how this was going to play out, yet fearful he’d lose control like he always threatened to.

“Take it off,” he ordered.

I shook my head and clutched my robe. Dominic had just seen me naked out on stage. He’d watched me like a hawk eyeing its prey, but somehow, being alone with him and being ordered into vulnerability, being ordered to succumb to his perversion, just felt different.

“You’re defying me?”

With his eyes ablaze with challenge, submitting to him was the best option. But pride always got in the way.

I swallowed hard, Dominic advancing like a lion stalking its prey. He circled, and I shook like the scared school girl I was all those years ago when he first entered my life.

His warm breath tingled my skin, a finger under my chin lifting my face until our eyes met. “You know that song does things to me, Lucy.”

Oh, I did know.

It did things to me too, but they weren’t pleasant.

But every time Dominic requested the DJ to play the song on my set, trouble would follow. It was like the lyrics possessed him to the point where he lost sense of what was right and wrong.

Wrapping a hand around my neck, he held me in place, lips brushing against mine. Dominic felt me tremble, his smile telling me how he relished the fear he caused.

Would tonight be the night he lost control?

Crushing his lips to mine, Dominic’s kiss was deep, painful, and possessive. I tasted the cognac on his tongue as he demanded my mouth and dignity. When I fought against him, he increased the pressure, becoming rough, hands twisting in my hair until I whimpered against his lips. Like always, my desperation fueled him, and with a low growl he pushed me onto the sofa. I fell hard but tried to escape, scrambling out of reach. I was an easy and entertaining opponent for him, our battling bodies knocking the floor lamp to the ground, throwing the room into semi-darkness.

Dominic Salvatore always stopped before he took things too far. Too far in the sense that although he had every desire to rape me, he never did. Why he didn’t when he so clearly wanted to, I didn’t know. And truth be told, I didn’t want to ask. Our interactions of this nature were always violent. I would fight him, and he’d get off on tormenting me until I finally broke. Working himself into a frenzy, Dominic would often lead me to believe that he’d finally destroy the last thing I had left. But just because he’d suddenly stop himself, didn’t mean his wrath would fade. It was what he did after he left me, that caused a whole other problem.

It started with the song. He’d hunt me down after I finished on stage and segregate me from the rest of the girls. He wanted me alone. And alone was exactly how I felt knowing no one would come looking for me. Dominic changed his modus operandi, from tormenting me into submission to an unnerving silence before he pounced.

Dominic always kissed me, hard and possessive just like now. He’d force his tongue into my mouth until I complied and if I fought him, it was a challenge he eagerly accepted. Then, with his hardness pressing between my legs, he’d force me against available surface before ripping off whatever clothes I had on. He loved the tease. He loved the aggression of hearing fabric tearing from my body. He loved having me underneath him, pinning me down, my body bucking underneath to free myself.

---