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My gut tightened as my gaze flicked back to Grace. She rolled her hips as she slid her hands along her body before dropping to her knees. My mind flashed to standing in front of her with my cock out. Pressing it against her parted lips until she begged to suck it.
Fuck!
“How do you do it?” I asked Bash as I glanced around the empty club. Silhouette had only been open a few years. He was co-owner with Tessa, his wife.
She performed nightly with a group and by herself. She’d been a stripper at the Vancini run club before upgrading to this. The place had a high-end, roaring twenties vibe with red leather booths and vintage chandeliers. Red accents and yellow lights added to the secluded, dark feeling.
“I fucking love it.” He smirked as he watched his wife. She flipped her hair and turned to look at him over her shoulder. She winked, and his smile grew. “Seeing how gorgeous she is up there. How happy it makes her. How powerful she feels. And knowing I’m the one who gets to take that all home.”
I’m sure it was great for him because he wouldn’t spend the rest of the day with an aching cock and only his hand to relieve it.
When I witnessed the sparkle in Grace’s eyes and heard her twinkling laughter, I got it. I wouldn’t take this away from her. Not when she so clearly loved it. And if it helped her heal, then I loved it, too.
I just didn’t need to torture myself.
My phone rang, giving me the excuse I was desperately seeking. “Have to take this. Will you—.”
“I got you. She’s safe in here.”
“Thanks.” I turned to Grace, holding up my phone, then pointing to the door. She nodded before going back to dancing.
Snow flurries scattered around me, and the chilly night air pierced my skin as I stepped onto the sidewalk. It was late winter, but the Midwest liked to cling to the snow as long as it could. Despite being a Monday night, foot traffic continued in and out of nearby bars. Silhouette was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays to give the staff time off. And for Tessa to host private lessons and events.
“You’re an asshole.” The words ground out of my clenched jaw as I answered the phone.
“Well, hello to you too, dear cousin.” Cole chuckled.
“Fuck off. You’re lucky your wife is a goddamn saint, or I’d be yelling at her too.”
“Yell at my wife and see how long you keep your tongue.”
His threat made me smile for the first time in an hour. I had no doubt he meant it. Possessiveness ran through our veins instead of blood. We protected those we loved ruthlessly.
“I’m being tortured enough, but thanks for the offer.” I sighed, blowing out a breath that did nothing to calm the lust pumping through me. “Alessandra suggested Grace take a pole dancing class.”
“And you’re talking to me instead of watching because?”
“Ever watched porn and didn’t get off?”
“No.” He scoffed because the point of porn was to get off and get out. “That would be torture.”
“Exactly.” I adjusted my pants, so I didn’t scandalize anyone walking by. “I’m at Silhouette getting the worst blue balls of my life.”
“Good luck, man.”
“Fuck you.”
After he stopped laughing, he updated me on the numbers at Luminescence, our nightclub. Then he went on and on about some big event, insisting I bring Grace. I wasn’t listening at this point.
It was torture, but I didn’t like being away from my wife. It was an addiction that started after I moved in. I always wanted to see her. Hear her laugh. Smell her rose perfume.
And like a junkie, I fed it any chance I got. Found excuses to spend time together like our breakfasts. The highlight of my day. So, no way in hell would I miss watching her dance.
I hung up, taking a few calming breaths. I stood on the sidewalk, staring at the building. My phone rang in my hand again before I could move.
Spikes of anger rose inside me. That bastard probably called his brothers to gossip like an old lady. It was clear they’d been talking about my feelings for Grace long before I’d admitted them out loud. I’m sure they were loving this.
“What?” I snapped without even looking at who was calling.
