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"Will you let me fuck you again?" he asks before he presses his lips against mine again. One of my hands involuntarily reaches into his hair, playing with his silky locks as he kisses me. My other hand guides him inside of me, ignoring all the voices in my head, telling me this isn't a good idea.
"Zara!" a voice screams inside the room, and I freeze. The redhead is there, and she looks harried. “There you are.”
“Yes.” I rush and try to cover my exposed breasts with one hand and remove my other hand from Jackson’s rock-hard cock.
"It's your kids," she says, shaking her head. "The boy, he's throwing up. I think you need to take care of him."
I see the shock in Jackson's eyes.
"You have your kids here with you? Are you fucking insane?"
I don’t have time to explain the enormity of the situation I’ve been put in. "You don't understand," I mumble as I get off his lap and adjust my skirt.
"You are a shitty mother," he says, shaking his head, and I can see the disgust on his face. He looks absolutely aghast, but he just doesn't know me or my circumstances, and I'm not about to explain it to him.
"And you're an asshole," I say, pushing him away. "You are an absolute asshole."
"And to think I was about to screw you again," he says, shaking his head. "Maybe I need my head checked."
"Fuck off." I grab the bustier and cover my chest as best as I can. "Just fuck off,” I tell him one more time for good measure.
He looks at me in shock, and I hurry away from him, out of the room. I hope I never see him again. I can't believe I nearly had sex with him. Again. In a place like this. Maybe I need my head checked as well.
I rush into the dressing room to check on Luke and Charlotte. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" I ask, fear in my voice.
"I think I ate too many Kit Kat bars," Luke says, making a face. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," I say, taking a deep breath, trying not to swear. "I'm the one that's sorry. I never should have brought you guys here." Because I do agree with Jackson about one thing. It was stupid to bring them there. I may not be their mother, but I am making poor decisions with them. The need for money made me forget my common sense, and I know I need to stop making poor and rash decisions. “Come on,” I grab their hands, “let me change, and then we’re going home.”
18
Jackson
"Hey, Jackson. Is everything okay?" CK approaches me when I enter the main room where I’d left him when I saw Zara.
"I'm fine," I say gruffly. My heart is still racing, and my cock is still hard. "What is this place, dude, and why did you take me here?" I ask him, wondering where Zara is and if her kids are okay.
"What do you mean? You've never heard of the Titanium Club before?" he asks me, surprise in his voice.
"No, but I just saw some member of the club almost accost some girl that works here."
"Accost?" He shakes his head. "Are you sure he was accosting her? Every girl who works here knows the deal."
"What deal is that?" I ask, annoyed by this entire evening, thinking about Zara and how nervous she looked when that guy bothered her.
"Anything goes." He shrugs. "It's an unspoken rule. Why? Have you seen a girl you like?"
"No, I'm not into these sorts of places, and frankly, it disappoints me that you are. Women are not for the taking."
"Dude, I don't have to pay to sleep with anyone," he says. "I just like to come here and look at some titties and some ass, you know." He holds up his fist, waiting for me to fist-punch him, but slowly realizes I don't find his words funny and that I’m not his dude. "Hey, is everything okay? I didn't think or realize that you'd be so offended by this place."
"I just saw someone I know. I didn't realize she worked here."
"Dude, I hate to tell you, but a lot of these women, they'll do anything for money."
"I don't think she would," I say. I sigh as I now understand why Zara brought her kids with her. Obviously, she doesn't have a babysitter, and it seems likely to me that she doesn't have money for one, because why on earth would she bring her kids to a club like this and to a job interview?
I need to stop making her life my concern. Nor will I go to her apartment to ensure she is okay. Just because I have her number and address in my file doesn't mean I need to use the information. She means nothing to me. I don’t need her drama in my life. "I'm leaving," I tell CK. "My driver will drop me home. I'll see you later, okay?"
