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Running a hand through my hair, I make my way back to my desk, unsure of how I’ll manage to get any work done today with my cock throbbing the way it is. My phone rings in my pocket, and I’m grateful for the well-timed distraction from the urge to chase down the hall after Talia and drag her back here to fuck her over my desk.
The name on the screen catches me by surprise.
“Sheila,” I greet my old flame coyly.
“What are you up to, handsome?” She matches my tone. Wherever she is, I hear music in the background, something upbeat and annoying.
“Nothing. To what do I owe this honor of a call?”
“I’m bored,” she pouts, and I can imagine the face she’s making without even seeing it.
“Well, I think I know a remedy for boredom.” And I need a remedy for Talia.Someoneneeds to scratch my itch. “Where are you?”
Chapter Five: Kay
Sheila’s place is even trashier than I remember. Beat up cars line the overgrown driveway, suggesting she has guests or some other temporary roommate. The trash bin sits full, beer bottles and cans laying around it. The house’s faded white paint is chipping. The grass is dead, browned to a crisp, which I can’t blame her for. Only the wealthy in LA get to have green lawns.
I walk up to the worse-for-wear doorway and small concrete stoop. The metal door on the outside is rusted to shit, and creaks as I lift it open.
Suddenly, I’m overly-wary of leaving my car behind for any matter of time, so instead of knocking, I let the door close. I text Sheila that I’m here. She texts back a fraction of a second later, telling me to come in.
No thanks,I text back. Somehow, my standards have raised since we last fucked at her place. I slide back into my car and start it, waiting with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. She texts back fast, but she takes longer to come out. I try not to get annoyed. It was always a good time with her, and something in me needs this just as much as she always wants me.
A moment later, Sheila’s stomping out of the house, shouting something back through the open doorway. A crumpled-up beer can is thrown out the door at her. She flips the culprit her middle finger and slams the door behind her. Wearing the tiniest dress and flimsiest heels, Sheila’s a sight for sore eyes, and still just as beautiful. The blue color and shape of the dress accents her tanned legs nicely, and suddenly I have no complaints about where this is heading.
I always felt like Sheila was too beautiful, and too kind at times, to be stuck in her shithole of a situation—even though, at one point,Iwas her shithole situation at the club where she stripped, and I managed the place. Only as a front for my other illegal dealings, but I always made a point to know the dancers.
Sheila pulls open the passenger door and the potent scent of her floral perfume fills the car in an instant. She plops into the seat, stretching out her heeled feet, gum smacking in her mouth. “Nice car, baby. When’d you get this?” she asks with a stretched smile of coral pink lips.
“Couple weeks ago,” I say, pulling away from the curb with a heavy foot on the gas, ready to free myself of this area of LA, something I thought I’d never want. It still feels strange sometimes to jump from my past business dealings to running something legitimate with Gia, but her and Midnights are changing me.
Or, rather, the dark-haired, long-legged beauty that I work with is giving me motive to change.
“That’s nice,” Sheila says distantly, the only sound in the space the revving engine and the smacking of her gum as I speed to my intended location. Her hand finds my thigh quickly, and she squeezes me with blue manicured fingers. “It’s been too long, Kay, baby,” she begins to pout. “Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you at the club. Marcus is making a mess of things.”
“I gave up the club.” I make a sharp turn and Sheila sways against the door with the force of it.
“Yeah, but you could come back,” she says, and I pick up the barest hint of sadness in her tone. It’s not often you see genuineness from Sheila, but sometimes it pokes through. I think that’s why I always liked her. She has her tough front, but there’s something more underneath. Kind of like me.
“Not likely, sweetheart.” My tone comes out clipped. I don’t mean it to. There’s an edge to my mood today I can’t quite shake.
Her pout turns to a scowl. “You’re in a sour mood today.”
“Aren’t I typically in a sour mood?” I ask, switching my tone to teasing, my hand finding her bare thigh to assure her my mood isn’t sour enough not to fuck.
Sheila lets out a giggle. “I mean, not really. You were always nice to me. I never had any complaints.” She grabs my hand and raises it to her lips, where she bites down playfully on one of my fingers. It does little to nothing for me, but it seems to get her going as she places my hand back on her thigh, closer to her center this time. “But whatever, better for me. You always fuck better when you’re pissed.”
For some reason, thatmakesme pissed. That’s not exactly what I want to be known for, but my hand on her leg brings a familiar heat to my core that has me driving faster toward one of Kieran’s hotels. It’s a bit of a joke that I play since finding out he branched into the hotel industry. I know he has his employees alert him when my name pops up in the system.
The rest of the drive is met with silence, but neither of us seem to care. We’re not here to chat anyway. Once we arrive at the hotel, I feel more in a rush now that I’m about to fuck Sheila than when I was on my way to her. I toss my keys to the valet and make an even quicker job of getting the hotel room, not playing privy to the forced small talk, only mildly enjoying myself when I see the receptionist’s face fall at the sound of my name.
So they’ve already been warned about me here. Looks like my work at the other hotels is becoming known.
She slides a key card over to me regardless, and I take it without another word, guiding a very clingy Sheila to the elevator.
As soon as the elevator doors close, Sheila’s hands are all over me, not missing an inch of my length through my jeans. “Get us a good room?” she asks in my ear, biting down on my lobe. That gets me going a bit.
I turn to her and let her lips meet mine, taking her tongue, which tastes like bubblegum.
