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I tap lightly on Mav’s office door, and he barks, “Come in,” from inside. When I enter, Ollie looks to be in full-on sulk mode, and Mav looks ready to rip his hair out. “Everything okay?” I ask.
“Ollie’s got something to say,” Mav replies, glaring at my son.
“Sorry,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Boy, I know you didn’t just roll your eyes,” Mav roars, making both me and Ollie jump.
He sits straighter. “Mum, I’m sorry for my behaviour. I’ll get it in check,” he says, this time more genuinely. I nod. “Can I go now?” he asks, looking to Mav for direction. Mav also nods, and he wastes no time escaping the office. I sit on the seat he vacated.
“Fuck, is this what I’ve got to look forward to?” Mav asks, flopping back in his chair.
I laugh. “It’ll be worse with Ella. Girls are way worse than boys.”
“Ella is bad enough already and she’s only eight. Can I send her to boarding school?” he jokes. Ella is his stepdaughter, but you wouldn’t know because they’re both so comfortable around one another. She even calls him ‘Dad’. And now, Rylee’s given him a baby boy, Reuben.
“Did he give you a clue as to what’s going on in his life right now?” I ask hopefully.
He shakes his head. “But honestly, I wouldn’t worry. It’s just teenage boys. He’ll grow out of it.”
I shouldn’t take Albert up on his earlier offer. I know as I sign my name in the guest book it’s a bad idea. But Ollie locked himself in his room, and Mama B gave me a lecture on making more time for him. I just felt the need to run, so here I am, standing at the bar of Bertie’s. He refers to it as a prestigious club, but it’s basically a strip bar that men pay a fortune to be a member of.
The barman smiles, recognising me instantly. “Cherry sours, right?” he asks. I smile, nodding. It’s not the sort of drink they stocked here until I asked for it. He hands me the glass and adds, “I’ll put it on Mr. Taylor’s account.”
“Have you seen him?” I ask.
“He was heading for the black room last time I saw. He might have a meeting,” he says. I drop him a text.
Me: I’m here, at your bar, like you requested.
A few minutes pass before he replies.
Albert: I’m in a meeting. Hang around?
I scoff. I wait around for no one, and he should know that by now. I drink the sours and head across the bar with a confidence well practised. Men turn to look, and I feel their eyes taking in the sway of my arse in the tight leather skirt. I run my hands over the leather wrap that criss-crosses over my chest to make sure it’s still hiding the important parts, then I gently shake out the roots of my hair and take a breath.
I push open the black doors. Albert looks up first, he’s lounging in one of the large chairs surrounding a poker table. There are seven other men around the table, all with cards in their hands, a pile of poker chips in the centre of the table. I stand in the doorway with my arms folded and an arched brow. “Hang around?” I repeat, and Albert groans. “Like a fucking puppy dog?”
I close the door and head through the room to another door. This leads to a private room, which I enter and I begin to unwrap my top. I keep my eyes fixed on Albert, and the second he realises I’m about to undress, he rushes towards me, slamming the door closed and almost knocking me off my feet.
His kiss is urgent as he presses his hungry lips against mine. “Now, who’s the fucking puppy dog?” he pants, pulling his shirt free of his trousers.
I smile against his mouth. “Good boy,” I whisper.
I drop my top to the floor, and he steps back to admire my perky breasts. A groan escapes him. I reach beneath my skirt and pull my underwear down, expertly lifting one leg and freeing the lace garment. I hand it to Albert, and he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply.
He shakes his head, smirking. “Bend the fuck over and don’t say another word.”
I turn, bending slowly and touching my toes. “Yes, Sir,” I tease.
His hand burns as he slaps me on the arse. “That was two words.”
I hear his belt buckle opening and then his zipper. He tears a wrapper open, taking out the condom. I brace myself for his intrusion, and when it comes, I relax completely, letting him take control as he eases into me. Once he’s fully inside me, he grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me to stand. I feel fuller, groaning in pleasure before he’s even begun.
“Move,” he orders. I think he gets a kick out of having the power, and right now, so do I. I press my hands against his thighs and begin to move against him. He stays still, and when I look back over my shoulder, he’s staring down between us, a heated look on his face. “Touch yourself,” he pants. I bring one hand between my legs, immediately feeling wetness there. He grips my hips impatiently and begins to move, slow at first, then picking up speed. I let my nails graze against his cock each time he pulls out, and he growls in pleasure. It’s not long before I’m crying out. Albert clamps a hand over my mouth, grunting in my ear as he follows me over the edge.
He stills, his hand still over my mouth. The heavy sound of our breathing fills the room, and I get that feeling I always get after I do shit like this—I want to leave. I step away from him, pulling my skirt back into place, and then I pick my top off the floor and wrap it around, securing the zip at the back. Albert watches me, and I know he wants to say something but chooses wisely to stay quiet as I head for the door.
“You forgot something,” he says. I glance back at him holding up my underwear.
