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Shoving my phone into my purse, I sling it over my shoulder and slide out of the SUV. Moving toward the front doors of Oracle, my eyes dance over the familiar unmarked Crown Vic and the two undercover cops there.
They watch me. They know that I know they’re there. But they never bother me, so I ignore them. A white car catches my eye. It’s an older car parked along from the undercover cops. This is the third time I’ve seen it parked in the same spot.
A blonde woman is sitting in it. She’s wearing large sunglasses, which obscure her face. But there’s something so familiar looking about her. I can’t place her, and she doesn’t look like a cop – so I doubt they’ve put another car on the club.
Since we open in about an hour, she’s probably the wife of some guy trying to catch him coming in here.
Pushing aside the feeling that I know her, I head into the club, letting the heavy door swing shut behind me, cutting me off from all prying eyes.
I wave and call out to the head bartender, Arthur, where he’s stocking the VIP bar, and he grins at me.
“You tell Mellie that I want a raise if she’s going to be off with a baby,” he calls to me. I flip him off.
“Take it up with Ronan.”
He snorts. “I need you to butter him up for me first.”
Grinning, I wave my hand over my shoulder at him, making my way into the dressing room.
Shawna is touching up her makeup as I drop onto the stool beside her, smirking.
“Looking good, girl,” I drawl. She pouts at her reflection, fluffing her hair, and grins at me.
“Always,” she replies, preening while I laugh.
“You good for three sets tonight? Electra had something come up, so she’s running late and will miss her first one.”
“Always up for more sets,” Shawna replies, adding the third, earlier time to the two other times scrawled across her mirror in black eyeliner. Standing, she moves to her locker to pick out a third outfit.
Becca wanders in, clutching a coffee and looking like death warmed up.
“When am I on?” she asks, stifling a yawn and taking a large sip of coffee as she drops onto her stool, wincing at her reflection.
“Crap,” she whimpers. “Remind me that girl’s nights are bad ideas when you have to work the next night.”
I grin at her and call over her times. She sighs in relief. “Awesome. That gives me a couple of hours to look good.”
Organizing a few more girls’ times, I leave the dressing room, letting them know I’ll be in the office if they need anything.
Smiling, I make my way to the office that Ronan and I now share. He got me my own desk. It matches his, and they face each other. The only thing is, they’re slightly too wide for us to play footsies underneath, which would have been fun.
Ronan’s deep voice rumbles over me as I step through the door.
“I thought ye’d never get here,leannán. Lock the door.”
My butterflies flutter as anticipation rises in me. I flick the lock and smirk over to where Ronan is shoving out of his chair and beckoning me across the room.
“Did ye get the shifts sorted?”
I nod, stepping up against him as I reach him. But Ronan has other ideas. Spinning me around, away from him, he bends me over the desk, his hand pressing my stomach against the desk as I feel the smooth, cool wood against my cheek.
I brace my hands against the desk, and Ronan flips up my skirt, his fingers tracing the edge of my cotton panties. He tugs them down, plunging into me, a moan ripping its way out of my throat. Ronan’s hand leaves my back as his hands grip my hips, and he pounds into me.
“God,leannán,” he growls. “Ye make my life pretty fecking perfect.”
My toes curl in my tennis shoes as the pleasure builds inside me. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
The End.
