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“When are we meeting with this information broker?” I asked, practically bouncing on my toes as I tried to contain my excitement.
Misael laughed, pulling me into his arms. “Later tonight, because we knew you wouldn’t have the patience to wait. But we’re goin’ out to a club to meet with him. So you need to get ready, Princess Cora.”
Getting ready entailed a scorching hot shower, doing my makeup and hair, and picking out an appropriate outfit from the meager selection in my closet. There wasn’t a rush—not from the boys, at least. I felt like I couldn’t get ready fast enough. It felt like I was eating up time, even if I wasn’t. We had an in—a safe in, a meeting I wouldn’t have to go to on my own, and one I wouldn’t have to hide from the boys either.
I styled my hair and did my makeup in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, then padded into the bedroom to get dressed. As I was rifling through my small closet, I heard the door open and close behind me, and a moment later, the scent of Misael’s spicy body wash filled my nostrils. The effect was like a drug, and when he came up behind me, I melted into his touch. His hands slid over my shoulders, and he pressed his lips against the nape of my neck.
“You’re jittery,” he murmured, his lips still brushing my skin. “Relax. It’ll be alright. I promise.”
I tilted my head to look at him, my eyelids drooping a little as warmth spread through my belly. “You really think so? I know you hate this.”
“Hey.” He turned me around to face him, sliding his fingers through my hair as he cradled the back of my head. “That ain’t the point anymore. We’re all on board. We’re with you. And we don’t fuckin’ fail at shit we set our minds to. We get what we want.”
“Yeah.” My voice softened as my hands skated up his stomach, tracing the ridges of his abs through his t-shirt. “I’ve noticed.”
He made a hungry noise in his throat, dipping his head to kiss the breath out of me. His hands left my hair, sliding up my thighs and under the towel, slipping between my legs, roaming over my stomach, groping and massaging my breasts as he pushed the towel out of the way. When he finally tugged it loose from my body entirely, I drew in a sharp breath as cool air hit my skin.
“I… have to… get dressed,” I managed to say in a halting voice, my body already sparking and coming alive under his touch.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m helpin’ you.”
As he spoke, he pulled me closer and slid his leg between mine, letting me ride his thigh as he kissed me again. The pressure on my clit felt amazing, and I ground down harder on him, unable to stop myself.
“How is this helping?” I asked, laughing in spite of the pleasure coursing through me.
“I’m relaxing you,” he murmured into my ear, rolling his hips against mine as one hand slipped down to palm my bare ass.
My head tipped back as I gave in to the sensations he was drawing out in me. But before things could go any further, he pressed a kiss to my throat and released me, stepping back and biting his bottom lip as he took in the sight of me, naked and flushed.
He cocked an appreciative eyebrow, then slipped out the door.
“I don’t feel relaxed!” I called after him, and his laughter drifted down
the hall, making me grin in spite of myself.
Trying to ignore the flush I could feel creeping across my chest, I grabbed a dress from the closet. It was one of only a few dresses I’d bothered to keep when we’d had to give up most of our possessions. I’d figured I wouldn’t need many, and I’d been right.
This one was probably a little too classy and elegant for the type of club we were going to, but at least it wasn’t a floor length ballgown. It was a little black cocktail dress that fell to my mid-thigh and draped across my curves in a way that accentuated them without being obvious about it.
When I stepped into the living room, the reception I got brought a pleased blush to my cheeks. Misael stared at me almost as hungrily as he had when I was naked, and Bishop and Kace both stopped what they were doing to run their gazes over me.
“Fuck, Princess. I’m liking this plan more and more,” Bishop said, a small smirk tilting his lips.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Kace wrapped a hand around my wrist and tugged me toward him, resting a hand on my hip as we headed for the door. Heat reflected in his eyes just like in the other two boys’, but I could tell he was on edge, worried about how the night would go.
I pressed a little closer to him as we stepped outside and gave his hand a squeeze when he opened the front passenger door for me.
It took us twenty minutes to reach our destination, and I peered out the window as Bish pulled up out front.
Spotlight was a club unlike any I had ever been to. The country clubs and smoking lounges that the Baltimore elite often attended, with their understated, minimalist but expensive décor, were a far cry from the neon fever dream that was Spotlight. Roaming beams of light shot into the night sky outside the building, with thumping bass seeping out onto the street every time the front door opened, patrons either filtering in or stumbling giddily out.
I had to admit, a thrill of excitement ran through me as we approached the large building, not just because of the prospect of this meeting, but also from the atmosphere that bled out of the club and the patrons filtering in and out of it. Something about it was invigorating. Enticing.
I stayed close to the boys as Bishop led our group into the club. We weren’t asked for IDs, and we didn’t even wait in the long, snake-like line that wound its way around the club building. I could only assume that the owners knew the guys or something. Maybe this information broker we were here to meet had arranged for us to be let in.
I was left to speculate, since Bishop said nothing about it, and once we got inside, having a conversation without shouting became impossible.
