Stripped Down (14 page)

It was the craziest thing I’d ever done.

Until a hand came across my ass so sharply it almost knocked the air from my lungs.

Beck grabbed my hand, tugging it from between my legs, and put it back on the counter. “Filthy girl,” he rasped harshly into my ear, sweeping his other hand into and around my hair until he had it fisted and was pulling my head back. “I get a condom and come back to find you playing with my pussy.”

“Your pussy?” I laughed, but it was cut short as he pushed his cock inside my pussy. “You’re delusional.”

“Yet I’m buried ten inches inside you, aren’t I, you dirty little thing?”

Undeniable. He was.

He chuckled at my silence. “Tell me your pussy isn’t mine when I’m deep inside you like this. Tell me it isn’t mine when I’m fucking you so hard you’re speechless. Tell me it isn’t fucking mine when it’s clamped around my cock so tightly it never wants to let me go.” He tugged my hair. Tight. His mouth brushed my ear. “Tell me your greedy little pussy isn’t mine when it’s begging me for more and you’re screaming my name so fucking loud Los Angeles can hear you, filthy girl. Until then...it’s mine. And you don’t get to play with it until I say so.”

He slipped one hand around me and rubbed his finger over my clit as if he were punctuating that statement.

Good god.

Beckett Cruz had a bossy, dominant side.

And fuck my whorish little clitoris. She throbbed like the slut she was for it.

“I don’t believe it,” I breathed. “Fucking prove it.”

Apparently, said whorish, slutty clitoris had a direct line to my tongue.

Dangerous, whorish, slutty clitoris.

Who had given genitals brains?

Fucking idiots.

Beck wound my hair around his hand with a chuckle and tugged my head right back. His other hand gripped my hip so tight that I was forced into place. My back was so arched that my nipples barely brushed the marble counter, and my whole body buzzed as I waited for him to pull out and get to it.

I was expecting it, sure, but it still shocked me when it came.

When he’d said he wanted me, I hadn’t known how much I’d believed it.

Until he fucked me.

Then, now, I believed it.

He fucked me with a relentless desire. Each thrust was designed to be deep and hard, and he delivered that every time. My scalp stung, my hip burned where he gripped me, and my nipples tingled where they repeatedly rubbed against the counter, but it didn’t stop him. He knew. Of course he knew, but it didn’t stop him for a second as he fucked me raw.

That was the only word for it. The way he gripped me, pulled my hair, fucked me, groaned... Raw. It was all raw. Uncontrollable.

And I loved every single second.

I
unplugged the vacuum and wound the wire around the clip before standing with a sigh.

Dad smiled at me from his perch at the dining table. He had a plane kit spread out in front of him, and he had a tiny tube of glue held in one trembling hand. “Thanks, Cass-Cass. Your mom has done so much lately and I felt bad.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Dad. I’m happy to help, especially since she’s picking up CiCi so I can work early.” I wheeled the vacuum through the room and out into the hallway closet. “She won’t be happy if she sees you building without her.”

Dad’s smile widened, and he picked a box up from the chair next to him. It was wrapped in hot-pink tissue paper and tied with a light-pink bow.

“She’ll get over it real quick.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What did you do?”

“Now, don’t get mad,” he started.

That almost always prefaced a statement that would make me mildly annoyed. Like the time he had accidentally run over my cat when I was thirteen. It went something like,
“Now, don’t get mad, Cass-Cass, but Smokey ran in front of the car, and I accidentally...hit him.”

Dad rubbed his cheek and said, “But I know you give your mom money to get me the plane kits.”

I glanced down. “I...” I couldn’t lie to him, especially when I’d just done it again yesterday. “They make you happy. And CiCi.”

“I know, Cass-Cass, and your giving us that time together means more to me than you will ever know.” His soft, brown eyes watered before he quickly blinked the tears back. “Anyway, I have two kits still to do, so I asked your mom to find something CiCi would want me to help her with instead. She found better.” His eyes shone again, this time with excitement. “Apparently, they make kid ones. So the next plane we build will be one she can take home.”

Wow.

Fighting the lump that had formed in my throat was harder than it should have been.

“She’s gonna love that, Daddy. Thank you.” I bent and kissed his cheek.

“Don’t start crying, girl. I’m too old for that.”

“You’re fifty.”

“Exactly.” He winked at me. “Far too old to waste time crying.”

I smiled and patted his shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

“No.” He touched his hand to mine. “You go to work. How goes the job search?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell him I hadn’t even got an interview for the last four places I’d applied... Or that I almost, almost had enough money saved to get out of the city, so it wasn’t even a huge priority anyway.

“The hours don’t really work with CiCi’s school. It’s either too early or too late, so it doesn’t really help with the stability.”

Dad nodded, and guilt snaked through the pit of my stomach. “It’s hard. If I see anything in the paper, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” I kissed him again. “Sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m sure. Your mom will be back soon. Don’t worry your pretty little head, Cass-Cass.”

I blew him another kiss before I grabbed my purse and my gym bag and left. My heart weighed heavily in my chest at how weak he’d become. A simple task such as vacuuming was getting harder and harder for him to do. I honestly didn’t mind going by and helping him out if it meant it’d make Mom happy and make it a little easier for her.

I hated that I depended on them so heavily for CiCi, so it was really no issue to do something so small.

I sighed heavily and wound my hair around my neck, snapping a band off my wrist to tie it back. It was hot, and my neck was feeling sticky and sweaty after only a minute or two in the heat. That or it was the knowledge that I was about to see my boss.

The man I was now officially divorcing.

I still didn’t know how it’d happened. After we’d had sex, we’d watched a movie, had sex again, and then slept in different rooms. Partly because he apparently didn’t trust himself not to have sex with me for a third time, and partly because we were both worried about what would happen if CiCi woke up, came looking for me, and found us in bed

together.

And explaining
that
. God, explaining it would have been hard. Especially since, when he’d driven us to school that morning, she’d climbed through the car, kissed his cheek, and thanked him for being “the best human smimmin’ pool dolphin ever, ever, ever, ever.”

He was pretty much a hero in her eyes, and I was kinda mad they ever had to meet. That he ever had to become a part of her life, because kids were notoriously clingy to people who made them smile, and Ciara was no different.

No, I take back what I said. I wasn’t kinda mad. I was mad. I was mad he’d shown up at my house without thinking about the repercussions of such a thing. I was mad he had done it a second time. I was mad he’d somehow inserted himself into my daughter’s life, whether he’d meant to or not.

It was one thing for him to be in mine. Another thing entirely to be in hers.

My anger made me walk faster, and in no time, I found myself approaching the Strip. It was barely two thirty in the afternoon, but it was already teeming with people. Inside the buildings, I knew I’d find people already drinking, gambling, and letting their dignity loose. It was Friday, after all, so what was there to expect? People flying in early for weekend getaways, whether they were bachelor parties or spontaneous trips.

I had no idea what our schedule for tonight looked like. I didn’t want to know—I didn’t even want to work. I wanted to go home and curl up in bed while I felt sorry for myself like a wuss.

It’d seemed like a good plan last night. Screw Beck one more night until he didn’t want me anymore and then be done with it.

I didn’t know why it sucked so damn hard that he didn’t want me anymore.

I didn’t know why it sucked so damn hard that, now, I kinda wanted him more than ever.

Okay, that last one was a lie. I knew why that sucked. The first one though? There was no explanation for it, except perhaps the second one itself.

The craziest thing was that, if I didn’t have a little person who depended on me, I probably wouldn’t have needed a quick way out of this marriage. Of course, I also wouldn’t have been a stripper, so I wouldn’t have been accidentally married in the first place.

This entire situation blew. Like a hooker dressed as the Big Bad Wolf chasing down the Three Little Pigs.

Deep breath after deep breath calmed those errant emotions as I approached The Landing Strip and walked in. The music was loud, but not as loud as usual. Loud enough that I winced, admittedly, but hey. There were a few people sitting around the stage and at the nearest tables, but otherwise, the atmosphere was decidedly dull, and the bar was quiet.

“Hey, Cassie!”

I turned toward the bar at the call. It was Vicky, the bargirl. She usually worked at Rock Solid, but she was flitting between both clubs now on a regular basis.

“Hey,” I said, approaching the bar. “What’s up?”

She grinned. “I spoke to Beck this morning. He said we’re training you on the bar today.”

I stilled. “He did?”

“Yeah.” Her smile dropped a little, and her eyebrows drew together. “Didn’t he tell you?”

I shook my head.

“Oh. He said you wanted to do more bar work and less stripping. He switched my shifts so we could start training you when it’s a little quiet.”

I licked my lips. “Okay. I mean, sure, I guess.” It would have been nice to have been told. “I’ll just go put my stuff in the dressing room.” I turned and walked through the club so I could go through the back door to the dressing room.

My heart was beating a little quick at her words. Where had this come from, and why hadn’t Beck told me about it when I had been with him? I knew we’d spoken about moving more of my shifts behind the bar, but that was last Saturday, before everything had gone crazy.

This was so random; it barely made sense.

“Cassie?”

Speak of the devil and he’ll appear.

“What?” I said, dumping my bags on “my” chair in the dressing room.

The door creaked as it opened. “Got two minutes?”

I met his dark eyes in the mirror. “Yes.”

Beck walked in and shut the door behind him. Then he adjusted one of his sleeves. “Vicky said she spoke to you just now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked him, still holding his gaze in the mirror. My hands rested on top of my gym bag, which held all the things I needed to turn myself into Dracu-whore for the night. “You dropped me off, like, six hours ago, Beck. And you never thought to mention it? I looked like an idiot just then.”

He held his hands up and took several steps closer to me. “Listen, beautiful. You wanted bar shifts instead of stripping shifts. I have them for you—and no, not because you asked, but because I can see the shame in your eyes every time you think about work.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but instead of speaking, I took a deep breath.

“I don’t want you to have to lie to CiCi anymore, Cassie. You have so many more responsibilities than any of the other dancers. For most of them, it’s getting them through school or it’s a side income. For you, this is everything.”

“You don’t have to do this just because you fucked me and feel sorry for me.”

“You think that’s why I’m doing this?” His eyebrows shot up, and he grasped my shoulders and spun me so I faced him.

I flattened my hands against my stomach as he forced me to meet his gaze with a gentle tip of my chin.

“I don’t feel sorry for you, Cassie, because you asked me not to, and I’m sure as hell not doing it because I fucked you. Those girls...I usually delete their numbers and forget their faces, not give them a better job.” His lips crept up on one side, and he briefly lowered his voice. “And, no, it’s not because you’re making this divorce easy. It’s because you’re a good person and you deserve more than stripping every night you can and lying to your daughter so she doesn’t see how shitty this world can be.”

“She already knows how shitty this world can be. She has a father who doesn’t even know her name. I’m not protecting her from the cruelty of this world. I’m protecting her from things she doesn’t need to know.”

He tilted his head to the side slightly. “But she knows about her father?”

“I have two choices: be honest with her and tell her he’s a fool who will never be ready for parenthood or lie and give her false hope that, one day, he’ll suddenly change his mind and find her only to have to be honest in the end. Deadbeat dads aren’t like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy, Beck. It’s not the kind of lie that will bring her magic and joy and that she’ll one day thank me for.”