Trouble (11 page)

He picked up speed with each stroke, going deeper, faster, harder. “Yes, that’s it,” she urged. A muffled thump and both of her hands on his back told him she’d gotten rid of the vibe.

“Closer, come down to me.” She pulled at him until he bent his elbows and her mouth was on his nipples.

He groaned as she went from one to the other, nibbling and sucking at him. Her hands traveled down his back and over his ass. Her nails dug in for minute, then a sharp slap landed on one ass cheek. “Faster, Val. Harder. Make me come.”

Gritting his teeth, he buried his face in her neck and pumped his hips. Her scent filled his head; her words echoed in his ears and she bit his chest, muffling her scream as her body tensed and her cunt clamped down on him. Wet warmth massaged his cock and he let himself go, his own shout of satisfaction mixing with hers.

Val knew he should move. Roll off of Samair. But he didn’t. He just lay there, most of his weight on his elbows, with his head buried in her neck and his body covering hers.

He wasn’t aware of how much time passed before she wiggled beneath him, but he took the hint and rolled to his back, keeping her with him as he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

V
al stood in his office and stared at the crowded floor below him. The dance floor was packed, the bartenders were keeping the liquor moving at a steady flow, and there was a line at the door.

God, he loved Risqué. He loved the atmosphere, the music, and the crowd. He loved that it was a place where people went to have a good time, to let loose and forget their troubles.

Most of all he loved that it gave him a place where he belonged. It was his home. And if he didn’t take a chance, he was going to lose it.

“Business is great,” he said in reply to Karl’s question. “But it’s not enough. I need to do something. One big
something
to make a big lump sum of money so that paying off the loan doesn’t bankrupt me. What good is paying off the fucking loan if I can’t afford to keep the place open?”

“Not much good at all, brother.”

Val kept his back to his friend, and went for it. “If I hold an exclusive lingerie and fetish wear fashion show at the club, do you think you can get some of the crowd from the Dungeon to show up?” He turned away from the view and waited for Karl’s answer.

“Possibly. Depends on when you hold it, and how exclusive it is.”

“It could be an invitation-only event.”

Karl straightened up on the couch, taking more interest in the idea. “A lot of the people who would be willing to spend serious money on that sort of stuff prefer to stay anonymous. They might not be comfortable in an open bar.”

Val thought about it. “I could set it up for private bidding or purchasing on the products. Use the bachelor room for a small, more private showing for select individuals.”

“That would probably work. When are you thinking of doing it?”

“I haven’t set a date yet.” Or mentioned the idea to Samair.

She was gone from his bed when he woke up on Monday morning and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. He should be happy that she was sticking to her word, keeping things casual.

He
was
happy about it. It was everything else in his life that was fucked up. But not for long.

“I’d do it soon though. If I work it right, this could be the way to meet that final payment.”

“About that.” Karl sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I talked to my bank guy and liquidated some funds, so if you need it, I’ll have a fair amount of cash handy in a couple of weeks.”

Stunned, Val just stared at him. Karl had plans for his money, his own dreams.

“Consider it a personal loan, not an investment. This is just to shut that bitch down and make sure the club is and always will be yours.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Buddy—”

“Look,” Karl cut him off. “I feel like this is partly my fault for not making sure your ass was covered six ways from Sunday in that divorce.”

“That’s bullshit, man. You did everything I asked you to.” Anger rose in his chest. “It’s not your fault, or mine, that we never considered Vera’s using her family connections to pull strings at the bank. It’s fucking devious of her, and there was no predicting it.”

“Still—”

“Still, nothing. This fetish fashion thing will work out. I managed to build this club up from an abandoned warehouse, I can fucking throw a party big enough to raise some money.” All he needed was a hot theme, which he had, and he was off. “If—
when
this fashion show event idea plays out . . . I won’t have any worries.”

“Where’d the idea come from anyway?”

Samair’s naughty PVC outfit. Her adventurous streak. Her fantasy list.

“Sex sells, and I need something that will sell fast and furious.” He met Karl’s probing gaze head on. “Plus, I met a woman with a bit of a thing for interesting lingerie recently. It got me thinking.”

“A woman, huh?”

He waited; he knew what was coming next. Karl was getting too predictable in his cynicism. “Would this be the curvy blond plaything from a week or two back? The one you said was entertainment, not a distraction?”

“Yes. And I was right, she’s not a distraction. In fact, she’s been . . . inspirational.”

That got a wolfish grin. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

 

 

 

 

S
amair dashed across the small apartment, dripping water and cursing as she dove for the ringing phone on the bed. She was in the shower when it started ringing, and normally she’d leave it, but she’d actually started to get some calls in response to the cards all the dancers were handing out, and she wasn’t taking a chance on missing an order.

“Samair speaking,” she said breathlessly.

The first time a call came in from a client there’d been a misunderstanding when Samair had just answered with hello. After saying it was the wrong number, they hung up and called back, then asked if they’d reached Trouble Designs. But answering the phone by saying Trouble also hadn’t gone over so well when her mother had called.

“Samair, it’s Val.”

Warmth swept through her at the sound of his deep voice. “Hi, Val, How are you doing today?”

“Good. Listen, I have a proposition for you. Can I drop by your office in a couple of hours?”

Her office? She looked around the small apartment. Her sewing machine was set up on the kitchen table, the half dressed sewing dummy was blocking the television, and bolts of fabric were stacked up along the far wall. “Umm, sure. I work out of the apartment right now, so you can come by anytime.”

She gave him the address and they hung up. Flopping over on the bed she wondered what to wear for his visit. She was intrigued by the idea of him having a proposition for her that wasn’t covered in the casual lover arrangement they’d made.

By the time the buzzer for the security door downstairs rang a couple of hours later, Samair had dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a knit T-shirt and cleaned up the apartment. It was still small and crowded, but there was really no way around that. She buzzed him up and concentrated on some deep breathing. Just knowing she was going to see him had her body readying itself for a good time.

She swung open the door and tried not to drool at the sight coming up the stairs.

Black leather covered him from head to toe. A straight-fit jacket hung open from his broad shoulders to his trim waist, and heavy chaps covered him from the waist to ankle. Heavy boots completed the look.

She’d never found boots so sexy before.

“You look hungry, little girl,” said the big bad wolf when he was directly in front of her.

She tilted her head back and met his heated gaze. “Oh, yeah.”

Humor and heat combined to make his eyes swirl like melted chocolate. His mouth lifted at one corner and he brushed against her slowly as he stepped into the apartment.

Oh, Lord. She eyed the way the leather of the chaps framed his perfect denim-covered ass and swallowed a moan. She was in trouble.

He set the little skullcap he carried down on the island counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the unit, then turned and looked back at her. “Are you coming in?”

She nodded her head and grinned at him before shutting the door. “Sorry. I had to take a minute to drool over your ass.”

His laugh filled the room as he shook his head. “You’re something else, you know?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” She sauntered past him and perched on a kitchen stool.

“It was meant as one.”

She reached out, slipped her fingers under his leather belt, and tugged him closer. Only he resisted.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his belt. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I have one for you, too.” She winked and reached for him again.

“Not that kind of proposition.” He stepped out of her reach and deeper into the living area.

When had she developed a leather fetish? All she could think about while Val checked out the space was how hot he would look with his hair down and no jacket, no shirt, and those yummy leather chaps. They might be perfect for riding a Harley, but they really made her want to stretch out spread-eagle on any surface and scream “Ride me!”

All he’d have to do was unzip his pants.

Her insides heated and her nipples hardened to the point of pain while she imagined the feel of that worn leather rubbing against her inner thighs, her hands smoothing over it to get to his perfect ass and clutching him to her while he pumped away.

“It’s about your designing.”

Her spine snapped straight. Huh? “What about my designing?”

He’d stopped in front of the sewing dummy and was fingering the stretch lace teddy she’d been pinning together. He gave her a look that said he knew where her mind had been before continuing. “Did you get any bites from the cards you handed out at the club last week?”

“A couple.”

“Would you be interested in doing a show of your work at the club?”

“Like a fashion show?”

He planted his hands on his hips and gazed at her steadily. “Yeah.”

A fashion show at Risqué? What a freaking fabulous idea!

“I’d love to!” She jumped off the stool and rushed at him, talking a mile a minute. “I have some great ideas for more dancer’s outfits, and even some Goth style—”

“Not a clothing show,” he said quickly, cutting her off. “A lingerie one. In particular—fetish wear. Sort of like the PVC outfit you wore to my place the other day. You could have some of the softer stuff, but, mainly, the kinkier the better.”

Something wasn’t right. It just seemed too easy to have the opportunity to showcase her brand-new business at one of the hottest clubs in town. “Why are you doing this?”

“Your outfit inspired me the other day. You made it, right?” She nodded and he took off his jacket before dropping onto the loveseat. He lounged back against the corner and looked up at her with an unreadable expression. “I think you’re good at what you do, and this could be a good thing for us both.”

“Exactly how is it good for you? There’s something you’re not telling me and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Sit.” He patted the cushion next to him.

She settled onto the loveseat and waited. When he leaned forward, the scent of man and leather tickled her nose and she desperately tried to not think about having the bad boy biker tie her up and lick her all over.

 

 

V
al’s gut clenched. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell Samair what she wanted to hear. He’d opened up to a woman once before, and that was what had gotten him into this predicament in the first place.

He looked into her soft baby blues and steeled himself. “It’s a business proposition, that’s all. I’ll provide the place and the promotions, you provide the product and the models, and we both make some money.”

The wheels were turning in her head; he could almost see them. She was smart. She knew there was more to it than what he’s said, but she was also thinking about how good it would be for her. He liked that.

“When will the show be?”

“Next weekend. That’s ten days to get it all set up, plenty of time.”

“Ten days! I need longer than that to design a whole line of lingerie. Especially a specialized line like you mentioned.” Her cheeks pinkened. “I don’t know anything about fetish wear, really.”

Blood rushed south and his cock swelled. Her blush made him want to do dirty things to her. “I have to work tonight, but if you meet me at Risqué around midnight, I can take you to one of the underground clubs for a bit. You can see what sort of outfits people in the lifestyle wear and what they like. As for
knowing
the stuff, I want your take on it, not anyone else’s. Like the bra and shorts you wore the other day. Very simple for fetish wear, but damn hot, and not like the stuff I’ve seen before. It has to be unique to sell for the prices we’re going to set.”

Her eyes brightened. “The stuff you’ve seen before?”

He chuckled. His little wild child was getting hot. “I’ve been to the club before. Although it’s really not my thing, I’m sure you’ll see some outfits that will . . . inspire you.”

A naughty smile lifted her lips as she crawled across the small space between them and straddled his lap. “I see something that inspires me right now.”

She lowered her head and slanted her mouth across his. Her little tongue probed and he parted his lips, letting her invade. The scent of pure woman filled his head and Samair’s unique flavor caused him to clutch her hips and pull her closer.

One hand cupped her ass while the other slid up her rib cage and found a soft, plump breast topped with a cherry-hard nipple.