He won’t even look at me. Chance is braver. He tries to issue a rebuttal, but my stare pins him in place so dolefully, the only part of him that moves when I add additional words into the mix is his Adam’s apple.
“If you can’t handle a situation like this in-house, then you’re not management material for my clubs. You…” my attention is back on the man who’s sweating so much, I have no doubt he’s heard of me even without us officially meeting, “… will pay for any drinks you gave to your friends before you leave here tonight.” He swallows in relief, wrongfully believing he’s getting off lightly. He isn’t, and I look forward to ensuring he is aware of that. “And if you ever step foot inanyof my clubs again—”
“I won’t,” he interrupts, his voice brimming with fear.
Confident my reputation has exceeded me again, I shift on my feet to face Titus, Travis’s younger by three seconds yet much larger brother. “Make sure he pays his bill before he leaves and be sure to add averygenerous tip on his account for the bar staff.”
I consider the prospect that not all the employee’s fear is complements of my rigid repute when Titus plucks him from his chair by the collar of his un-ironed shirt before he drags him out the door. Titus doesn’t take kindly to insolent fools. It’s why I pay him double the salary of other bouncers in his field. You get what you pay for.
After releasing Isabelle’s hand from my grip, which worsens my already sour mood, I pace to the desk the manager is still sitting behind. Chance watches me with interest when I remove a checkbook from the top drawer of his desk, but he doesn’t speak a word. It is for the best. I may be tempted to remove a zero from the end of his check if he dares to invalidate my annoyance for the second time.
“This will cover your severance.” When I push the torn-out check to Chance’s side of the desk, a victorious flare darting through his eyes sees me tugging it back before he can accept it. His expression has a haughty arrogance I’m not impressed with, like the only lesson he will learn today is that bad deeds are rewarded.
Since they aren’t, I slant my head to the side and wipe the arrogance from his face with a contrite glare while muttering, “Or perhaps the fact you’re leaving here unscathed should be reward enough.” I draw his eyes to my fist by crumpling the check with my hand before I dump it onto the desk, wordlessly reminding him my reputation wasn’t amassed through standard business practices.
Everything I earned was achieved with my fists—including the very chair he vacates while mumbling, “Y-y-yes, thank you, boss.” He scuttles out of the office with his tail between his legs, his check left untouched on my desk.
With my ego as high as my desire to taste Isabelle, I slowly pivot around to face her. She’s standing beside the door Chance just scampered out of, her chest rising and falling like my arrogance is her aphrodisiac.
The thought has me showcasing my dominance without pause for consideration as to who I am going to unleash it on and that perhaps I need to tread cautiously.
“Come here, Isabelle.” The haughtiness pumping blood to the lower half of my body augments when she briefly shakes her head. Although she announces the reason for her rejection a nanosecond after my eyes slit, it does little to douse the superiority in my tone when I dismiss the person responsible for her rejection.
“Get out.” I don’t peer at the assistant manager eyeballing my exchange with Isabelle. I can’t take my eyes of Isabelle. The fiery blaze of lust brightening her rich chocolate eyes is too deviant to lessen the hold she has on my senses. I’ll take a $4 million hit by shutting this club down permanently before I’ll ever part with the look she’s giving me now. It is unrestrained and indigent, the very look I’ve been seeking from her for the past three months.
My jaw grits when Layla exposes why she should have been my pick for management to begin with. She doesn’t understand how to back down. “Boss, while you’re here, I wanted to ask—”
“Get out!”
Career advancementscan wait.
Kissing my ass for the hope of such an advancementcan wait.
My insufferable need to claim Isabelle as minecannot.
Layla bobs her chin before she excuses herself from the room.
The lock on the door has barely clanked into place when I repeat my earlier demand. “Come here, Isabelle.”
She doesn’t deny me this time around, but her feet don’t move either. She remains pinned in place, her knees the only part of her body moving when they respond to the heat radiating between us.
“So fucking stubborn,” I mutter under my breath before bridging the gap between us with long, purposeful strides.
I crowd her against the door three employees darted through in fear of their life before kissing her as I’ve been dying to do since the kiss we shared in my car in front of her old residence. I kiss her until her plump lips are fatter and ruddy, and the desire to kiss her deliciously fragrant pussy becomes too deviant to ignore. I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in my life, and for once, Isabelle’s heart and mind are on the same team as her body.
“Please,” she begs on a purr, her scrumptious voice adding to the thickness in my pants.
The zipper in my dress pants bites my cock when she rolls her hips upward, dragging a heat no number of clothes could hide along the length of my rod. The moan that tears from her throat when she feels how hard I am steals my ability to think rationally. Before I can contemplate our location, much less the numerous rejections she’s hit me with the past few months, I mimic the thrust of her hips, pushing her even deeper into the door.
After taking in the way her eyes dilate from our quick grind-up, I lather her neck with tiny bites and tortuously slow kisses. My rampant horniness screams for me to go faster, to claim victory before she can change her mind, but despite my astuteness never being in reach when Isabelle is around, I know that would be wrong of me to do. I want to savor her taste while devouring every inch of her. I can’t do that if I rush.
When my slow and purposeful movements reach the swells of Isabelle’s breasts, my hand moves for the belt holding the clingy material of her dress to her curvaceous frame. I take my time undoing the knot, ensuring Isabelle has plenty of time to stop me if that’s what she wants.
A craving unlike anything I’ve ever longed for blasts through my veins when the material slips away from her body without a single protest. After locking eyes with Isabelle to confirm the rise and fall of her chest is more in excitement than fear, I return them to her breasts. They’re covered by a lacy white bra that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her pert nipples are strained against the see-through material, pretty and pink, and her areolas are dotted with tiny goosebumps.
I test the durability of the delicate material by sliding my finger underneath it, indecisive on whether I should leave it where it is or have Isabelle fully exposed the first time I taste her.
I’ve never had a fondness for lingerie… until now. Isabelle looks as captivating in the delicate scraps of material as she would if she were standing before me as naked as the day she was born. Both visuals are erotic, so I keep them both as a possibility by tugging down on the cups, freeing her breasts from their lacy confinement.
