Longing: Club Inferno (6 page)

“If you be my date, I’ll bring the blindfold and handcuffs.”

Anya’s heart was pounding so loud she would have sworn he could hear it. “Looking forward to it.”

“Not as much as I am.”

“Are you going to cancel at the last minute again?” she asked.

“Not a chance.”

They managed to get to Shira’s in time, but it was no surprise that Istvahn was waiting for them. What was surprising was the way Nefertiti and he ignored each other. Anya was able to pass on the pita bread while she ate her salad—no oil or dressing—with a vengeance. No one else seemed to notice she was coveting their couscous. It wasn’t the intimate affair she had planned, with Nefertiti picking at her baba ghanoush and Max shoveling maklouta in his pie hole like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Clint seemed happy to nosh on the hummus and shish kebob while holding her hand under the table. His thumb smoothed over her knuckles.

When Nefertiti finished her lunch, she excused herself quietly and left. Istvahn followed a few moments later.

“I’m going to bang their heads together,” Anya said to Clint, whom she caught staring at her neckline. “I should go too. My class is at four.” She surreptitiously undid a button and made sure to lean into him. “I’ll see you later.” Anya pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“You’ll pay for that tonight,” he said to her, grabbing the back of her head to kiss her fast on the mouth.

“Thanks, both of you,” she said, turning to include Max, who was still chewing.

“Anytime,” Clint said.

“I hope not.” Anya shuddered and practically danced to her class. She had a date tonight. Well, she had an invitation to watch Clint strip and then whatever games night in the dungeon was. That was kind of a date. It was the kind that made her all wiggly in the knees when she thought of it.

The class was a riot and she had a good time with the role-play. There were some very quicker learners in class.

“Just remember,” Anya said to them as they were filing out. “If you don’t know what to say, a sexy giggle works, or a deep-throated ‘oh yeah.’ ”

“ ‘Oh yeah’?”

Anya looked up at the door. She knew that voice. It was Satan. Actually, it was Rita Lewis. She did a double take as Rita preened and strutted into the classroom.

“How?” Anya was seething with violence and jealousy. Rita had gone from a size fourteen to a size four. She had natural red hair that she used like a weapon. It was long and curly and hung to her ass—which was considerably smaller than it had been the last time Anya had seen her.

“Diet and exercise.”

Anya bit down and swallowed the “bullshit” that almost leapt out of her throat to smack Rita between her beady blue eyes.

“You know it’s all about burning more calories than you take in.”

“Really?” Anya smiled like she was an imbecile. “Why haven’t I thought of that? You don’t mind if I write that down, do you?”

Rita waved her hand. “Go ahead. I’ll give you the name of my CrossFit instructor. It’s changed my life.”

“Oh, yank the other one, Rita. It plays ‘Jingle Bells.’ ” Anya lifted her left breast at her.

Rita laughed. “Okay. I had the surgery. But then it really was diet and exercise.”

“Wow,” Anya said, feeling grudging respect for her archnemesis. It was brave and something she never could bring herself to do. Food was just too much a part of her life.

“You’re looking…well,” Rita said with false sincerity.

“Yeah, I’m happy. Want to grab a pizza? They’ve got a fantastic Italian restaurant. The handmade pasta would make you weep. And the desserts…oh, right. Sorry,” Anya said in the same imbecilic tone.

Rita narrowed her gaze at her. “That was just mean.”

“What are you doing here?” An awful thought hit her. “Is Cesare with you?” She absolutely could not handle seeing Cesare in Club Inferno. “Shouldn’t you be on the other side of the resort?”

“I’ve been invited to experience the members-only side.”

Anya was going to kick Colleen’s ass. “What do you think of it so far?”

“I think I’m going to like it here.”

“You and Cesare?” Damn her for making her ask twice.

“No, Cesare and the little woman are cruising the Mediterranean.”

“How nice for them,” Anya said between her teeth.

“So,” Rita said, “I hear you’re up for a part in the stage version of
Some Like It Hot
.”

Anya nodded.

“Tony Curtis’s part? The drag-queen saxophone player?” Rita asked sweetly.

“Marilyn Monroe,” Anya said, sticking out her chest. “The seductive Sugar Kane.”

“What a coincidence, so am I.”

Anya got up from her chair. “I’d say let the best woman win, but—”

“Oh, she will. Cesare will make sure of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who do you think is one of the major investors in the project?” Rita batted her eyelashes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Did Trey know this? She was going to kill him for keeping this from her.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Rita cocked her head. “Actually, I would, but the beauty of it is that I don’t have to. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a pole-dancing class to attend.”

“Knock yourself out.” Anya waved a hand. It wasn’t until after Rita disappeared that she realized it was Clint’s class she was going to. “Over my dead body.” She wasn’t going to leave Clint alone with that bag of poison.

Anya made it to Clint’s class first because she knew where she was going. Unfortunately, she had to stand in the back. He was that popular. Because they were on the members-only side, people were in various stages of undress. The classroom was more like a small nightclub. There was a stripper pole in the center and a small stage. Most of the audience was crowded as close to the little stage as possible, but Anya stayed with her back pressed against the wall. Rita squeezed in seconds later and elbowed her way to the front.

Max followed her in shortly after. He winked at her as he closed the door and turned off the lights. There were a few giggles and shrieks and one long moan that had everyone laughing. Then the spotlight hit the pole. Clint, shirtless, slouched with his back to it. One hand was over his head gripping the pole and the other hand rested on his groin. Anya stared at him—and so did everyone else in the room. Then the music started.

She had been expecting a club mix or maybe a remix of an old popular song. The instrumental saxophone hit her low in her belly. Clint slowly slid down the pole in a deep squat. He did that a few times before coming up on one leg and kicking out with the other in a martial arts move she’d seen him do in class. She could see his thigh muscles flex under the tight pants he wore. The music picked up in tempo. It was a bit more swing than jazz as trumpets entered into it. Clint danced with the pole, as if it were a partner. Then he jumped on it and turned around like he was doing a ballerina spin. Anya watched the muscles in his back and arms clench and flex as he made it look effortless. It was like he could fly.

“Take it off, already,” Rita roared from the edge of the crowd.

Anya frowned at her. Clint’s dancing was graceful, beautiful, and so damn sexy she could barely breathe. This wasn’t a strip joint. He was teaching a class on using the stripper pole.

After a few more turns, Clint pointed a finger in Max’s general direction. The lights flashed again and now the music turned modern. The heavy bass beat and the drum rolls had the crowd wild. Clint bumped and ground his hips as if the pole was his lover. Anya wasn’t the only one sighing at the sight. It was a little uncomfortable to be getting so aroused in a crowd, but the darkness helped.

The music reached a crescendo and Clint slid down the pole in a perfect split. Anya clapped with the rest of the crowd. How he hadn’t torn those tight leather pants, she’d never know. Whistling and cheering, the crowd quieted as the lights came on.

“That’s one way to approach the pole. Women are going to use their arms and legs and twirl around it. Men are going to use it more as a prop. You want your audience to visualize themselves as a pole. I’m going to bring up my lovely assistant Leila. She’s going to show you her way.” Clint gestured and a dainty woman with short red hair approached the pole.

The room went black again. This time there was more of a muted response. Anya heard clothes rustling and the wet sounds of kissing. The music started, a funky beat that had her tapping her foot. The spotlight came on Leila, and she started to dance. Lithe and graceful, she defied gravity. Anya was shaking her head in disbelief when the door opened next to her and Clint eased in from the back. He knew exactly where she was standing, and he sidled over to her.

“Enjoying the class?” he asked in her ear.

She nodded and he scooted in behind her and pulled her against him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered back.

Clint put his arm around her waist and tugged her back against him. His other hand cupped her face and pointed her chin forward. Leaning in so his mouth was inches from her ear, he spoke in a low husky voice.

“I got my kiss. You get your story. It’s only fair.”

“Now?” Anya’s whole body reacted. Her nipples hardened. Her thighs clenched together. Her hands went over his.

“Relax.” He chuckled. “No one is watching us. They can’t hear me over the music. I could slip my hand down your pants and get you off.” His hand dipped lower. She clutched it. “And no one would even notice.”

“Clint,” she gasped. She was acutely aware of the people standing next to her and in front of them. True, they weren’t paying Clint and Anya the least bit of attention, and in the darkness they would have had to be looking right at them instead of at Leila’s theatrics.

He nipped at her earlobe. “Don’t panic. Just listen to my voice and watch Leila dance. Do you want me to call you up and demonstrate some of the moves?”

He tilted her head back so he could hear her response.

“I thought you said not to panic.” Anya tried to turn her head, but he held her in a tight grasp. “I’ll kill you if you make me go up there.”

He laughed again. “Okay, that sounds like a hard limit. I should press my advantage. If you come for me during my story, I won’t call you up.”

“I’ll walk out,” she vowed.

“Anya.” He kissed her neck. “Do you want me to stop? Truly?” His arms hugged her. But her heart was beating fast in fear instead of lust.

“I’m not getting up on that stage,” she said. The thought of everyone looking at her made her ill. It wasn’t like modeling. She was a moving clothes hanger—even when she was in underwear or a bathing suit. It was no big deal. There was nothing sexual about it. No one was looking at her when she modeled. They were looking at the clothes. Here? They’d be looking at her. Rita would be judging every bit of cellulite, every piece of jiggling flesh. “No way.”

“Okay,” he said, bemusement in his tone. “What about the part where I said I would make you come with all these people around?”

“I’m halfway there already,” she admitted. “After watching you dance.”

He groaned and the husky echo in her ear shook her a little closer to paradise.

“You’re amazing up there,” she said.

Pulling her back against his hips, his erection poked at her through his pants. “I’m amazing right here too.”

“Conceited,” she said with a little sigh.

“Confident.” He stroked her cheek with his finger. “You’re beautiful. Can you see how much I want you?”

It was hard not to. “Hard” being the operative word. “I thought those were leather,” she said. “It’s too thin to be leather.” Anya rested back, liking the feel of his body against hers.

“They come off very easily. Just grab the sides and yank.” He kissed down her neck. “You can pull them off now, but I’m going to fuck you if you do.”

Anya trembled as her hands went to either side of his pants and gripped.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, licking at the shell of her ear. “Are you playing with fire?”

Anya nodded. “You were going to tell me a story?”

Leila’s dance turned more burlesque, and unlike Clint, she began to strip. Anya’s eyes unfocused as Clint’s hand dropped from her chin and dipped under the top of her shirt.

“You were teasing me with this today,” he said, his fingers sliding under her bra to capture her nipple.

Anya rubbed her hips against his erection and leaned her head back. “Yeah,” she breathed, hearing the music but feeling each touch of Clint’s like they were alone instead of in a crowd.

“I was in New York making my way doing odd jobs in between dance auditions,” Clint said, his hips swaying into hers in time with the music. “I came to the attention of Mistress Claire.”

A breathless sigh escaped her lips. His voice was hot and sexy in her ear. She wanted tongues and kisses, but her back was plastered to him.

“We worked some dungeons together when I was getting started. I stripped for her and my costume was a billionaire. I was in the full three-piece suit.”

Picturing it, Anya let her hips grind against his in time to the music. She liked the wicked feeling of fooling around in public. The darkness was safe enough—not too obvious, but hidden enough for a little thrill.

“When I was naked, she told me to lie down on my back.”

Anya closed her eyes and pictured it. Only she was the mistress and Clint was laid out for her to enjoy. Her clothes felt too tight. His hand on her breast wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer.

“She straddled my cock.”

Anya let out a soft moan.

The hand that was not engaged on her nipple moved to her hips and held her tight while he thrust against her a few times. Anya widened her stance and he dipped his hips so he connected between her thighs.

Swallowing her groan, she bent over slightly. Clint rubbed himself against her before yanking her upright. This time both his hands were under her shirt. He made short work of her bra and massaged her breasts.

“More,” she said, trying to turn in his arms, but he tightened his grip and pulled her back close to him.

“She put the tie back around my neck and tightened it.”

His fingers plucked at her peaked nipples, which were turgid and sensitive. Anya moved her head to try to kiss him, but he held her there, tormenting her. She turned and reached up to grab his head and he whirled with her. Her back slammed against the wall as his body pressed her against it. He kissed her deeply, their tongues clashing and lips sucking. Anya’s head was spinning. She needed to touch him. Her hands dropped to the waistband of his pants. His hands dropped to hers.