AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, but you keep brushing against my clit, and I’m only fucking human.”
“It’s okay.” His voice is gruff. “I really am sorry. Do you mind if I keep trying? You’ve gotten this far, and if I don’t get it on, we’ll just have to remove it.”
I sigh loudly and decide to be frank with him. “No, that’s fine, but if I come while you’re doing it, we will never talk about it again, and you won’t say a word to your teammates,” I tell him sternly, and he finally turns his head and looks at me. Holy shit. The heat and lust in his eyes is unexpected, and it causes a shiver to slide down my spine.
“Just let yourself go. Don’t hold it back. If you come, we can clean you up and try again. Everything is so fucking slippery down here now, and I think that’s why I’m having problems.”
His fingertip slides across my clit deliberately this time, and I close my eyes and just sink into the sensation. He circles the swollen nub over and over, but it doesn’t take me long. He’s already primed me, and I clench my fists as I feel myself fall over the edge. I stifle the moan that wants to accompany the delicious explosion that rockets through my body, but I can’t stop my toes from curling into the piercing bed or my fists from clenching the protective sheet that is lying over it. The orgasm is hard, but my body is coiled tight with tension, and it’s not the most enjoyable release. Again, my pussy clenches around nothing. That’s the third empty orgasm I’ve had, and I kind of wished I brought a vibrator with me so I could at least fuck that once I got into bed, but that’s not going to happen, especially in a shared room.
I feel Dayton use a cloth to wipe over my clit, and with a few deft flicks of his fingers against my still sensitive clit, he finally screws the ball onto the end.
“All done,” he says, turning his back to me and cleaning up the used equipment. He throws the receiving tube into a container for autoclaving and disposes of the needle in a sharps container. The rest of the stuff is disposed of in a bin. The tension in the room is so thick, I could cut it with a knife, but I think we’ve come to a silent agreement that we aren’t even going to acknowledge what just happened.
“You can sit up when you feel like it and put your panties back on. If you meet me out front, I’ll give you an aftercare leaflet and take your payment.” Dayton leaves without a backward glance, and I feel a rush of heat on my cheeks.
Never in my whole career have I ever felt cheap about what I do. I made my peace with it a long time ago and have never been ashamed to use my body to solve a case or to trap a mark. In less than two hours, Team Bastards has succeeded in making me feel more embarrassed than any low-life scumbag ever has. I blow out a huge breath of air and sit up before straightening myself out. Putting on my poker face, I walk out into the main area with my backpack over my shoulder.
“That will be seventy,” Dayton tells me while sliding a sheet of paper over the counter. “Here’s the aftercare, but I’m sure you probably know how to take care of something like that anyway.” He’s still not looking at me.
I grab my wallet out of my backpack and pull out my card, tapping it onto the reader. It beeps, telling me my payment went through. I shove everything and the sheet back into my wallet before putting my hands on the counter and leaning forward.
“I need a team meeting. We all need to be on the same page, and I don’t want any more surprises. Unknown factors make any job tricky, and we need to eliminate all the ones we possibly can. Imagine my surprise when I found out that one of my teachers, who I thought was a giant scumbag perv trolling his classes for premium pussy, is actually on the team, and he’s been planted to look like he’s an interested buyer. That should have been information I had. I’m guessing that Ryland is the other team member, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. What were you doing? Fucking testing me? Because if you’re going to keep pulling that bullshit, I’m out. I came here to do a job, but I can do that job on my own. I don’t need the seven of you. They obviously know who I am, so you know what? Fuck you. I don’t need this shit.” I’m fucking angry now. “I’m out. Good luck with it. Maybe you can convince them to take Miller, but he better be happy giving and receiving.” I storm off.
I hear Dayton call my name, but I ignore it. I’m frustrated, both sexually and professionally, and I don’t have time for this shit. This is why I love working alone. No gatekeeping bullshit, just me, myself, and I.
I exit the alleyway and look at my watch. Fuck, it’s five, and I need to be back at the house by six. I might just have enough time to check out the bar Charity mentioned. I pull out my phone and google bars with dance clubs in Summerville and find what I hope is the one she was talking about. It’s one street over from my location, so it must be the one. I head quickly in that direction, needing to get this done and then find the bus that will drop me back at the halfway home before dinner.
I guess I can claim that I got lost, since it’s my first day and everything. Mrs. Standish seems strict, but not like a complete raging cow.
Chapter 18
The directions send me in the opposite way of where I started, and I take a left at the next intersection. There are a few larger restaurants, an arcade, and a movie theater along this street. I pass by all of them and find the bar I’m looking for—Life Lounge. I wonder what they mean by that. Maybe it’s taking a break from your life. It’s not very catchy if you ask me. The sign on the door says it opened a few minutes ago, and wouldn’t you know it, there’s a help wanted sign in the window. Perfect.
I push open one of the wooden doors and step into the dim room. There’s quiet background music playing and the stale smell of beer and cigarettes. I scan the room, and it looks like a typical bar, with tables, booths, and a few screens showing hockey and football games. The room is empty except for a black man behind the bar who’s drying glasses. I step farther into the room, and he lifts his head. Ah, so here’s the last member of the team whom I actually know—Anders Brooks, aka Hot Chocolate.
He squints at me. I guess he can’t make out details because of the dim lighting.
“Can I help you?” he asks, putting his cloth down and moving toward the end of the bar closest to me.
Behind him are shelves of bottles and a couple of flashy neon lights, and in front of him, a few beer taps are spread out down the bar in intervals. I move closer too, and I see his eyes widen when he finally figures out who I am. There’s a slight inhalation of breath before he smiles.
“Hello, pretty lady, what can I do for you today?” he says in a flirty tone before sliding his eyes to the side. Now that I’m at the bar, I can see better, and I notice that at the end of the bar, the area opens up into a storeroom, and there’s a man counting stock there. Right, so we’re keeping to our covers.
“Oh, hey, I saw the help wanted sign in the window,” I tell him.
“Well, you sure are pretty enough to work here, but your style…” He looks me up and down suggestively, and I see the other person start to pay attention at the other end. “Isn’t really what we look for, but who knows, the patrons might dig the goth chick look for something different. Matt, we’ve got someone interested in the position.” Anders’s words seem to be loaded with more than what he’s actually saying, so I need to pay attention.
A man holding a clipboard comes out of the stockroom. His lips purse as he looks me up and down. He’s another member of the original Divinity of Morality Club, and I highly doubt that’s a coincidence.
“How old are you?” he asks in a voice that sounds like he’s been smoking two packs a day his whole life.
“Old enough,” I reply hopefully, and he frowns. “Please. I just moved to town, and I really need this job,” I plead when he doesn’t seem inclined to give me the job. “I’ll do anything, I just need to earn some money so when I graduate, I have something saved so I don’t end up living on the street when the halfway house kicks me out.” His eye twitches, and I see comprehension cross his face as he comes to a decision.
“I can pay you cash under the table if you’re not legal, but if you get caught by the cops, I will tell them you produced fake documents saying you were legal. You will do everything I say without question, or you’re gone, you hear me?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Of course, sure,” I agree quickly.
“You will work during the week, five to eleven, which is when we close up, but don’t expect to be home before early morning Friday and Saturday night. Is this going to be a problem?” he asks, and I wince.
