Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore (6 page)

“I wasn’t sure if you were in here alone or not.” Jericho stepped inside the office, leaving the door open. “I have some Level Four access approvals for you to sign off on.”

Level Four was for high rollers and well-connected clientele. Dante personally oversaw the approval process. If a client didn’t have something of value to offer him— blackmail, money, political connections, or otherwise—they stayed on Levels One through Three.

Asylum wasn’t a typical club. Customers could indulge in anything from illegal gambling to no-strings-attached group sex and anything in between, as long as they followed the guidelines. Most of the clientele belonged to elite families on the Eastern Seaboard, and Dante exploited those contacts regularly to avoid the legal ramifications of the club’s illicit and lucrative offerings. At the end of the day, it was his club and his rules. Most customers were too afraid of being blacklisted to cross him. They were bored, and they were rich. Dante offered them a place where anything was acceptable.

Acceptable is one thing, but money and boredom can’t be excuses for everything, especially not having a threesome with your head of security and a dancer.

JERICHO WISHED DANTE would just sign the damn forms. After he turned them in to the business office, he would be free to sink back into the familiar rhythm of work. Only yesterday, he would’ve lingered in the office to shoot the breeze, talking sports, politics, or club gossip with the man who’d become more than just a boss in the ten years Jericho had been working for him.

Now, it was all he could do to act normal while he went about his regular schedule. He had known things might be awkward when he’d made his choice the night before. But living the awkward was much worse than anticipating it.

“How is business tonight?”

Dante’s question drew Jericho back from his brooding. “The usual. Congressman Flaherty must be stressed about his bid for a senate seat. He just signed for the West Suite on Level Four and told Terrence to bring him four dancers for a private show.”

Jericho didn’t add that the congressman had demanded blondes. His gut told him that Dante would react much as Jericho had, which was why he’d handpicked the dancers and sent them up personally. There was no way he was sending Suri into a room with a man like Flaherty, who was incapable of keeping his hands to himself.

That issue alone was why Jericho had always had a hands-off policy when it came to dating coworkers. Regular rules didn’t apply inside Asylum. Suri was an exotic dancer. Getting possessive when it came to the nuts and bolts of her job was just stupid.

So why am I doing it?

“Did Flaherty bring his mistress?” Dante lounged back in his chair, stabbing a hand through his shoulder-length hair.

“He did.”

Jericho had known Dante for more than a decade. In all that time, he’d never said a word about the hidden heritage that gave Dante his exotic good looks. He’d always known his friend hid behind an identity that didn’t belong to him. For most of his life, Jericho had essentially done the same thing. One thing he knew for certain—Dante was no more Latino than the Welsh-born-and-bred Jericho.

Regardless of his ethnic background, Asylum’s boss was a good-looking man. His dark hair and complexion set off his intense brown eyes. He and Jericho were nearly the same height, his friend carrying a little more muscle in his shoulders and arms. Jericho had never found himself attracted to another man before, but he’d always been drawn to Dante. A condition that had been driving him to distraction since waking up with his arms wrapped around Dante, and Suri nowhere to be found. Jericho had instantly missed Suri’s soft, feminine curves, but there’d been something satisfying about being that close to his friend.

Jericho stepped out of Dante’s office and back onto the club floor with a sigh of relief. The executive offices were located on Level Three, the entrance tucked away in an alcove near the stairs. He moved toward the balustrade, looking below. The sound of slot machines and dance music drifted up from the main floor. He had always liked Dante’s club design. The open-floor atrium set up with tiered balconies made security much easier. Jericho could stand on the Level Four mezzanine and keep an eye on all of the main areas.

Heading toward the back stairs, he nearly slammed into a slender dancer in a harem costume made from sheer pink material.

“I am so sorry! I…” Her voice trailed off when she looked up and met his eyes.

Suri.

How had it taken him almost two years to do more than utter a one- or two-word sentence to her? And why had Dante been the one to force him to acknowledge the attraction he felt? Jericho’s feelings were tangled into a knot of shame and regret. They should have never taken advantage of her when she was depressed and drinking. She deserved so much better.

A pretty blush stained her cheekbones. Her features were delicate, her blue eyes intense beneath her thick makeup. He hated her hair. It had been sprayed up until it was stiff as a board. Jericho wanted it the way it had been last night, soft and silky on his fingers.

“I didn’t mean to run you down.” Her gaze shifted away. “Have you seen Terrence? He’s supposed to be taking me to a party up on Level Four.”

Aggravation swept Jericho like a storm. He’d excluded her from that list on purpose. Why the hell was she going to Flaherty’s party? He took a deep breath to get control. “You weren’t on that list.”

She looked stung. Why? He wasn’t trying to be rude. “I guess I wasn’t, but Shelby didn’t want to go, and I was the only blonde standing around. Apparently the guy has a thing for blondes. As long as he’s got cash, that’s fine by me.”

He didn’t believe her. Something in her words rang hollow. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her. What was she doing working as a stripper anyway? The more he’d watched her, the more he’d known she didn’t belong. Beautiful as she was on stage, she wasn’t stripper material.

“There you are, baby girl.” Terrence trotted down the last few steps and headed their way. “I got up to Four and realized you weren’t behind us.”

Terrence was a hulking black man at least four inches taller than Jericho who’d started working at Asylum not long after they’d opened. The man looked meaner than hell, but he was really a giant teddy bear.

Suri shifted toward Terrence, refusing to meet Jericho’s gaze. “It was nice seeing you. I’d better go.”

Jericho should have walked away. But he couldn’t seem to do it. “Doesn’t your sister have a school play tonight, Terrence?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you take off and go? You can come in early tomorrow to make it up, if you want.” He’d intended to let the guy go anyway. Doing it now gave him an excuse to keep an eye on Suri. “I’ll work Flaherty’s party.”

Terrence’s face split into a wide grin. “Thanks, man. I owe you big-time.”

The big guy bounded away on his long legs, and Jericho felt a moment’s guilt that he hadn’t remembered to let Terrence go earlier. This self-absorbed distraction had to stop. Maybe now was the time to clear things up.

Suri watched Terrence disappear down the stairs toward the employee exit. “So I guess you’re stuck with me now.”

Stuck with her? Was that really how she viewed him? Jericho turned and walked back the way he’d come to avoid saying something else that would make things worse. He knew she was following, because every sense he had was attuned to her. Her light, feminine scent, the graceful way she walked—he was lucky he didn’t trip over his own two feet trying to navigate his way to the door.

She followed him into the hallway that led to the access corridors surrounding Dante’s office. “Where are we going?”

“We’re taking the back route.”

His track took him right and then left through the dim hallways. Finally, they reached a set of narrow wrought-iron stairs that would lead up to Level Four. The West Suite and Congressman Flaherty’s cursed party waited. He didn’t like the idea of Suri anywhere near the privileged prick of a politician. He didn’t want to imagine the congressman’s gaze lingering on Suri’s curves or his hands caressing her skin.

Blood rushed in Jericho’s veins, roaring in his ears. He clenched his fists at his sides. He had to get a grip, or he’d walk into the West Suite and start beating the politician to a bloody pulp for transgressions the man hadn’t even committed yet.

But he will. You can’t see Suri and not want to touch her, taste her, feel her next to you.

“If I’m so inferior that you can’t even be seen walking through the club with me, why did we go through all that bullshit last night? Why not just fire me and get it over with?”

Embroiled in his internal drama, Jericho made it up three stairs before her words penetrated his haze. He stopped so quickly she ran right into his back. Hastily backing down to the floor, she stared at him as though she expected him to turn on her.

Jericho held out his hands, palms up. “No one could call you inferior in my presence without me ramming a fist down their throat.”

“But I thought…”

He realized he’d been an idiot since the moment he’d nearly run her down after his meeting with Dante. “I knew you weren’t on the list because I purposely excluded you. Flaherty has a penchant for groping and a taste for blondes.”

She nibbled her lower lip, taking a step closer to him. “But that’s my job, Jericho.”

He knew it was, but a man had his limits. “I know. Usually I can take it. In fact, I love to watch you dance. But I can’t allow a man like that to touch you.”

She brushed her fingers against his arm, as if she wasn’t sure what was allowed and what was taboo. He didn’t want her to feel that distance. As far as Jericho was concerned, there was nothing forbidden between the two of them. He caught her hand and tugged her close.

“About last night, Jericho. I wasn’t too drunk to know what I was doing.” Her breasts brushed his chest when she sucked in a deep breath. “I wanted every bit of that.”

“And now?”

“I want it again.”

Jericho groaned as their mouths met. She nipped his lower lip when he kissed her. The sensation sent a shock of awareness over his skin. Anticipation made his heart race. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, demanding her response. Their teeth clicked together as they strained to get closer.

He splayed his fingers against the warm skin of her bare midriff. She undulated against him, teasing the erection that was already swelling behind his zipper.

“I never got to feel your cock inside me last night.”

Her words nearly unraveled him. “You will now.”

He undid her top, her breasts spilling into his hands. Sucking her sweet skin, he set his teeth to her nipples, and they puckered into tight points. She moaned, her voice echoing in the stairwell.

It took nothing to part the skirt of her costume and gain access to her damp slit. He picked her up and set her down a few steps higher than his position, making it easier to pleasure her pussy.

She grabbed the railing as he teased her slick cunt with his fingers. Her scent enveloped him in memories of the night before. He plucked at her sensitive clit, and she made a high-pitched noise. Straddling the nub with two fingers, he began working it in quick circles until her hips were gyrating in rhythm.

His cock was so hard it was strangling to death in his slacks. He was dying to push into her body, but he also wanted to share another experience like the one they’d had the night before. Jericho wanted Dante to join them, but he felt as though he couldn’t wait any longer. Unfastening his pants, he freed his cock.

“Shit. Do you have protection?” She gripped his shoulders, her eyes hazy with passion. “Please tell me you have something?”

Jericho laughed bitterly. Carrying around protection for potential quickies was Dante’s style. Not his. “Not on me, love. Sorry.”

She let out a string of expletives that would’ve done a sailor proud. “I’m clean, and I’m on the pill. What about you?”

He nuzzled her neck. “I’m clean, though I’m definitely not on the pill.”

“Oh God, Jericho, no jokes. Please fuck me. I’m dying here.”

Her words set him on fire. He propped her leg on the railing in the corner of the stairwell. The position left her open and vulnerable. Fitting the head of his cock to the entrance of her pussy, he began to push inside.

“Shit, you’re huge.” Her nails scored his arms, and she wiggled her hips, causing him to slide farther in. “It feels so good. Don’t stop!”

It did feel good. Like heaven, as far as he was concerned. She was hot, tight, and wet with cream that soaked his balls when he bottomed out inside her body.

“Harder,” she demanded. “Fuck me harder.”

Backing out, he slammed home and felt the head of his cock press against the sweet spot at the end of her channel. She moaned, and he did it again and again, until their bodies were slapping together in perfect cadence, and he was poised on the edge of climax.

Everything inside her clenched tight around his cock. “So close.”

“Let go, Suri.” He brushed a kiss against her ear. “Come for me.”

She melted around his cock, her body convulsing as she rocked against him with each wave of her climax. Jericho groaned, the naked sensation of being inside her without a barrier making him unable to hold on any longer. He came in pulsating spurts of thick semen that marked her as his.

Their harsh breathing filled the stairwell. Jericho savored the sensation of holding her close, of being inside her. He slid his cock from her pussy and helped her gain her feet. She kept her eyes averted as she rearranged her costume.

She glanced up, still refusing to meet his gaze. “I should probably get to that party.”

The more volatile parts of his personality demanded to know why, but that wasn’t the right way to handle this. “You don’t have to go, Suri.”

Something in her demeanor shifted. It was obvious she was uncomfortable but firm on her decision. “It’s money I can’t turn down right now.”

Everything clicked into place, and Jericho fought the urge to tell her he’d rather give her what she needed than see her do something that put her in close proximity to Flaherty. The offer wouldn’t win him any points. She wanted to make her own way. How could he not respect her for it? “Then I’ll take you up when you’re ready.”