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“This is the last time, Duke,” I say, moving my elbow forward enough that I can slip my other hand under his head and turn it up toward me again. “My debt is paid, and even if it wasn’t, this isn’t something we would ever be doing sober, which means we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”
“We don’t have to do this again,” he says quickly. “But what about the other stuff? You need it too. I know you do.”
I shake my head, almost regretfully. “I’m done. I can do that with other people.”
“I can’t.”
“You’ll find someone,” I say, though I doubt he will.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he protests. “What’s the big deal?”
“I know,” I say. “And that’s the big deal. It’s not something I want to do casually, or for the reasons I did it with you. It shouldn’t be about revenge or hate or hurting someone.”
He snorts. “Like you could hurt me.”
I squeeze my fingers around his cock, stroking it in rhythm. I’ve never touched him before, and I don’t really want to now. I know it’s only guilt creeping in, combined with the unbearable, lust-filled haze of Wonderland that’s making me give him something in return for all the times I’ve taken from him. As if he hasn’t taken infinitely more from me, without any consideration for me or my wellbeing.
“You’re going to be okay, you hear?” I say, but my voice is drowned by a crack of thunder so close it shakes the ground, trembles the tree where we’re sheltered. The sky finally opens, a torrential downpour pelting the tin roof and rattling the windows.
I lean down and kiss him. This time, he lets me. He undoes his pants to give me better access, and I fist my hand around his cock, jerking him off until he cums again. I don’t make him say anything this time. I stroke my tongue over his, and I let our kiss say everything that needs to be said. It’s the first time, and the last time, we ever kiss.
“Stay until morning?” he asks, securing my arm around him when I lay my head down on the pillow.
“Sure, Duke.”
When he’s fast asleep in my arms, I tuck him back in and zip his fly so if anyone comes up here, they’ll think he just slept here because he was too drunk to drive.
“You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” I whisper to him in the dark, as if that’s not the most ironic thing that’s ever come out of my mouth. I pull the sleeping bag up over him in case he gets cold, then I climb down the ladder and walkthrough the rain back toward the house and away from one more person who only cares about what I can do for him.
If only everyone were as easy to leave as Duke Dolce.
twenty-six
Rumor Has It… The Snake of Willow Heights and a known gangster were seen leaving the Darling party together. Are these two up to something of a criminal nature, or could it be more innocent than it looks?
Gloria Walton
I’ve been expecting it for over a month, so I’m not surprised when I finish my sultry secretary dance and step out of the spotlight to find Rylan gaping up at me.
“I figured you’d buy your way in with daddy’s money eventually,” I say, smirking and sinking onto my knees in front of him. “What took you so long?”
“What are you doing here?” he croaks, reaching for me.
I scoot back and waggle a finger back and forth, giving him a flirty frown. “No touching,” I remind him. “Especially in this room. You’re here to covet, not consume.” I do a body roll, running my palm down my toned abs. Dancing has me in the best shape of my life.
My mother would be so proud.
“Lo, it’s me,” Rylan protests, having the audacity to look offended that I won’t let him touch me as freely as he always did, whether I wanted it or not.
“I’m working.” I lean back, spreading my knees on the stage. “And I don’t see any dollars.”
“Oh, right,” he says, fumbling out his wallet.
I’m just fucking with him. There’s no one else at the stage, only three men in suits talking at one of the four tables spreadaround the spacious room. I’ll go work them over in a minute, but I’m not done with Rylan. If he thought he’d come in here and shame me, he’s in for a disappointment. I’ll never let him get the best of me again. He can’t hurt me because I shut off my heart to him, just like I shut myself off when I dance, leaving only my hollow body to go through the motions, giving the men what they want.
Just like I shut my soul inside its protective shell, no longer gilded and beautiful but as ugly and battered as the broken thing inside, when I saw Colt fucking Dixie earlier this evening.
“That’s better,” I say to Rylan, reaching over and patting his head when he lays a handful of ones the edge of the stage. “But not much.”
