All the Pretty Poses (2 page)

Each action is smooth and unhurried. Each
movement is sexy and fluid, her body melting from one into the next
in perfect time to the music.

I glance up at her face. Beneath the shadow
of her hat, all I can see is her mouth. But damn, what a mouth it
is! Her lips are painted bright red and are probably the lushest
ones I’ve ever seen. They’re what I’ve always called dick-sucking
lips—plump, pouty and perfectly formed to slip down over the head
of my cock.

Not having been overly enthused about coming
tonight
or
about the entertainment, I’m surprised that my
dick twitches when she pulls her lower lip between her teeth and
bites down. But damn if it doesn’t.

I feel a groan build in my chest when she
drops slowly to her knees, sliding the cane away from her body like
she’s doing a push-up, slinking down onto her stomach. After a few
beats, she abandons the cane and eases over onto her back, her hips
turning last, like a cat that’s getting ready to stretch. I can
almost feel the purr.

Legs flat on the stage, she runs her hands
from the tops of her thighs to her stomach, pulling the hem of her
shirt up just enough to give a teasing glimpse of what she’s
wearing underneath before moving on to her breasts and throat. Her
nimble fingers work loose the tie, dragging it slowly from around
her neck. Purposefully, she twists her hands, winding the silk
around her wrists.

For a few seconds, it’s just me and this
girl. Alone in this room. With nothing between us but this music.
And that damned tie. All too clearly, images of me tying her up
with that scrap of red material flit through my mind, making me
throb behind my zipper.

Languorously, she stretches one leg straight
up into the air, the other lying flat on the stage. She reaches up
and grabs her ankle, skimming her bound hands to her knee, pulling
that leg toward her face. Her thighs widen into a perfect split
that reveals little black, satin panties. When I see them, all I
can think about is kneeling between those legs and kissing that
silky material.

I see her lips pucker as she puts one chaste
kiss on her knee. I’m enthralled. But it’s when I see her tongue
flicker out that I feel like I could punch a hole through the
bottom of the table with my hard-on. There’s something about her
that’s so understatedly sexy. It’s like she doesn’t even know we’re
here, like she’s lost inside her own head. And God, how I’d love to
be part of what she’s imagining!

I feel a hand on my arm, interrupting the
scene. I’m instantly aggravated by the intrusion. I jerk away, not
even bothering to turn around until I hear a voice.

It’s my brother. And he’s determined to get
my attention. Finally, I turn, not even trying to hide my agitated
glare.

“What?”

“Can you take us back home? Sloane’s not
feeling well. Something she ate earlier maybe.” He gives me a
meaningful look. It takes me a second to fully disengage from the
girl that had me so rapt, but eventually (reluctantly) I do. And I
remember that Sloane didn’t drink her shot of tequila. Then I
remember why. Hemi told me she’s pregnant, but that they haven’t
told her family yet, so he asked me not to say anything.

“Oh…right,” I respond a bit too sharply.
“Yeah, I can take you.”

Hesitant to leave just yet, I glance back
toward the front of the room in time to see that the dancer is on
her knees again, throwing off her hat. A mane of silky chestnut
curls falls down. I only get a brief flash of her face. Her hair
swirls around to obscure her features. But not before I get a
glimpse of one pale green eye. And the way it widens when it meets
mine.

Instantly, I’m transported back in time.
Years and years ago. To the soft grass of a clearing in the woods.
And the smooth skin of the girl beneath me.

I remember those eyes. That mouth. I remember
a slightly ganglier, less mature version of this woman’s body. How
it felt to touch her, to hold her. How she laughed, how she tasted.
How it ended.

And how I could never forget.

Holy god!

It’s Kennedy.

CHAPTER TWO- Kennedy

My heart slams to a stop in my chest and I
forget to breathe when my eyes collide with the luminous blue-green
ones that I’ve never been able to completely put behind me.

Reese.

As he stands before me, I take him in. Within
a fraction of a second, I catalog his every feature.

He’s aged beautifully. He’s still the same
tall, ungodly handsome guy that he was all those years ago, but now
he’s a man. A breathtaking man.

His shoulders seem wider, if that’s possible.
Stronger. His arms are long and powerful in his dress shirt, his
biceps straining against the expensive material, even in rest. His
waist is trim, his stomach flat and his thighs are as thick as
ever. It’s what lies between them that brings color to my
cheeks—the impressive bulge behind his zipper.

As much as I’ve struggled to put that day out
of my mind, it all rushes back with crystalline clarity. I remember
what it felt like to be pierced by him, both emotionally and
physically. And I remember what it felt like to be crushed by him,
too.

He’s standing perfectly still, watching me.
Recognizing me. As his eyes travel my body, I feel them as though
he is touching me. Again. Like before.

I feel the pressure of his kiss when the aqua
orbs stop on my lips. I feel the tickle of them as his gaze skates
down my throat to where my chest is heaving beneath my costume
shirt. When his perusal stops on my breasts, my nipples tingle with
the remembered feel of his palms against them. And when he moves on
to my stomach, stopping at the short hem of my shirt where it
barely covers my black panties, I feel a gush of unwanted heat.

Unwanted because I stopped wanting Reese
years ago. Stopped loving him. I had to. To survive.

And then his eyes rise to mine again. In
them, I see recognition, a little anger, a little more desire and
shock. A lot of shock.

All this transpires in a few short
heartbeats. When I drag my eyes away, I realize that I’m shaking. I
struggle to maintain my composure for the few remaining seconds of
the song. When my number draws to an end, I make myself take slow,
measured steps as I turn to walk away. But it’s not easy. In fact,
it’s the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.

CHAPTER THREE- Reese

It takes my brother slapping the back of my
shoulder to get my eyes off of Kennedy as she walks away.

“You coming?”

Five minutes ago, I couldn’t wait to get
home, but now…now, all I really want to do is go back stage and
find Kennedy. I have no idea what I’d do after that. Kiss her.
Shake her. Ask her what in the ten rings of hell she’s doing
dancing in one of my clubs. But I can’t.

Well, I
could,
but I won’t. I
shouldn’t.

Suddenly, I feel angry. And frustrated.

“Reese, man, what the hell?” Hemi
prompts.

“I’m coming,” I snap, turning away from the
stage so fast that my chair tips over. I nearly run right into our
waitress, on her way back to our table with Sig’s next shot and my
next drink.

She gasps in surprise. “I’m sorry. Pardon
me.”

“My fault,” I tell her, grabbing her arm to
keep her from stumbling backward.

She leans into me, looking up at me with her
big blue eyes. “Thank you,” she breathes, her breasts brushing my
chest.

My first thought is that her eyes are the
wrong color; they should be sea foam green. My second thought is a
string of long, very harsh obscenities. My third thought is that
maybe this girl is
exactly
what I need tonight after
all.

“What time do you get off?”

“That all depends on you,” she replies
suggestively. Unfortunately for her, my mood has changed.
Drastically.

“Just give me the keys, Reese. We’ll wait in
the car,” Hemi says from my left, blatantly annoyed. Unfortunately
for
him,
he just gave me the window that I needed.

I take the keys to my Mercedes out of my
pocket and slap them into his palm. “I’ll be out in ten.”

As soon as Hemi’s girlfriend is on her feet,
with her back toward me, I tug my “distraction” in closer to my
chest as I whisper down into her ear, “How do you feel about the
men’s room?”

“Tonight, it’s my favorite place,” she
purrs.

“That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, Kennedy is off my
mind.

I lead Pandora to the men’s room, making sure
it’s empty before I lock the door and pull her into my arms. She
comes willingly. Like I knew she would.

I grab her ass in one hand and one plump tit
in the other, squeezing both as I drag my lips over her throat.

“Tell me what you like,” she moans, swiveling
her hips in just such a way that she massages my throbbing
cock.

“I wanna see you playing with these,” I tell
her, spreading the lapels of her top and baring her naked breasts,
“while you’re blowing me with these.” I cover her lips with my own,
sucking the lower one into my mouth and biting it with my
teeth.

As soon as I release her, the hot brunette
kisses and rubs her way down my neck and chest, then on to my
stomach before I feel her cup my balls through my pants. I groan,
leaning my head back against the cool tile wall as she unzips my
pants and dips her hand inside.

The first touch of her tongue to the tip of
my cock draws a groan from me. She licks and sucks, trailing her
lips along the length from base to tip, but it’s not enough. I
need…more. I need to bang something—or someone—
hard.
The
waitress’s mouth slides down over my shaft, taking as many inches
as she can all the way down into her throat. By touch, I reach down
to thread my fingers into her hair, guiding her over me. Harder and
harder, faster and faster.

My mistake is in raising my head to look down
at her. She pauses to glance up and all I can see is that it’s the
wrong eyes. The wrong mouth. The wrong face.

The wrong woman.

And just like that, Kennedy is on my mind
again. Under my skin.

With an angry growl, I pull my dick out of
the waitress’s mouth.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks in a pouty,
sexy voice, a voice that merely grates on my nerves at this
point.

“Nothing you can fix. It’s not you, it’s…
it’s just… Maybe you should just go back to work,” I tell her as
pleasantly as I can, zipping up my pants and moving away from her.
I’m so frustrated, all I want to do is put my fist through the
wall. And then put my cock into Kennedy.

Angrily, I turn toward the sink to wash my
hands. In the mirror, I don’t see the muted fury of the eyes that
are staring back at me. No, I see blatant disgust in the pale green
ones that I’ve never been able to forget.

With a shake of my head, I look back and see
only
my
reflection and, behind me, the waitress. Kennedy is
nowhere to be found.

Except in my head.

Where she never left.

CHAPTER FOUR- Kennedy

My heart is still hammering when I ease into
the chair in front of my dressing table back stage. I glance down
at my hands. They’re shaking.

Reese Spencer.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I
glance over at Karmen, the resident Southern Belle right here in
Chicago, where she’s brushing the long, black wig that she’ll wear
for her next dance. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

My laugh is dry. “Yeah, that’s pretty much
what happened.”

“Tell mama all about it,” she coos as she
drags the brush through the silky strands. When I send her a wry
look, she winks at me. “No, seriously. Tell me what happened. This
is the most worked up I’ve seen you since you started here.”

I don’t normally share
any
of my
business with the other girls. I’m a very private person. Always
have been. Sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of choice, but
always private. That’s why I’m a little surprised when my mouth
opens up and half my life story falls out.

“I just saw someone that I haven’t seen in
years. I knew him when I was younger. I thought he was…he was…wow!
I mean, he was just…” I pause and sigh. “It was like
that
,”
I say, raising my brows meaningfully. “I thought the sun rose and
set in his eyes.” In fact, I can remember watching a sunrise in his
fathomless aqua eyes. Once. Before… I feel the pang of remembered
devastation tug at my heart, like fresh new skin pulling at an old
scar. “But then he left and never came back. I haven’t seen him
since. Until tonight.”

I’m lost in thought, in memory, for what
feels like an eternity before I realize that neither Karmen nor I
have said another word. I shake my head to clear it and give her
what I hope is a bright smile. “It was a long time ago.”

Karmen’s expression is pensive. And
her
mind
is perceptive. “You loved him,” she observes.

My mouth opens to deny it, but the words
don’t come out. It’s almost like my body won’t let me breathe such
a betrayal, one that would minimize the pure hell I went through
after he left. Yes, I loved him. With my entire soul, I loved him.
And he left me. Just like that.

“As much as a young, naïve girl can love a
guy like that, I suppose,” I reply, matter of fact.

“A guy like what?”

“Rich. Handsome. Privileged. Heartless.”

“Honey, guys like that are the easiest ones
to
love. Something in us wants to be the one to tame them,
to be the one they change for. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. I just
know they’re the ones that are the most dangerous. From what I
hear, our dear Pandora found that out for herself tonight.”

Still firmly road-blocked on memory lane, I’m
barely paying attention to what she’s saying about Pandora. “Hmmm.
And why is that?”