It made you want.
I watched, along with all the other hungry men in the room. Her body gyrated to the soft music, slow and dark as the spotlight finally reached her waist, where a jewel sparkled from the piercing in her belly button. She turned, the muscles in her arm tensing as she supported her weight. The light caught her breasts, small, full, and wrapped in lace. The sight of them instigated another round of whistling and catcalls from the crowd.
As the spotlight continued panning upward, she turned her head. I saw that her dark hair was confined to a tight bun on top of her head. The music suddenly changed, the beat picked up. She looked out into the audience. Everything about her, her body, her face, her eyes—even from this distance—everything screamed erotic, right down to her pink tongue licking her full crimson lips.
Then MacKayla Simone began her striptease.
I leaned back, hiding my face deeper in the shadows, even though she couldn’t see me due to the distance and the bright lights trained on her. I watched, my cock hardening, the memory of her in my arms, lying beneath me, still fresh. She released the bun and sent thick, dark waves of hair cascading down her back. Her body moved as if one with the music. She closed her eyes as she stripped off her bra. The crowd went insane. She gave them one hell of a show, shaking those tits, playing with her nipples, reaching down her belly, only to stop as one fingernail grazed the top of the lace triangle over the mound of her sex.
I wondered if I were sitting closer if I’d be able to see the slit of her pussy. See if she was wet. If I’d be able to smell her sex.
I swallowed hard, my cock throbbing against my jeans, and narrowed my eyes, forcing myself to remember what this woman had done to me. How one night with her had cost me everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. My wife. My daughter. My career. My name.
One night. A moment of weakness. And I’d paid. How I’d paid.
I downed the rest of my whiskey. MacKayla turned and gave us a view of her ass, spreading her legs wide and bending deep. The string between her ass cheeks was the only barrier between her and fifty men with raging boners. I stood, knowing my time had come. It wasn’t revenge I wanted, not exactly. I only wanted what was owed me, and the way I figured it, MacKayla Simone owed.
She owed me fucking big.
Retribution (Excerpt)
Prologue
Adam
For the sixth day this week, I watched Elle Vega walk out of the trendy café, wave good-bye to her friends, and climb into her shiny, new VW Bug. Yellow. Compliments of Daddy, no doubt. I knew for a fact she had a Mini sitting in the garage at home, too, but she wouldn’t bring that around this group. No, she had to maintain the appearance she was like them. Like her friends. She’d then take the long way to her condo in the West Village. Tiny, charming, absurdly overpriced. Perfect for the rich little bitch.
“Mr. Smith, can I get you anything else?” Mary asked, the dark circles under her eyes betraying her fatigue. She’d been serving me the same thing every day for the past six days — a double espresso and a slice of apple pie.
I took my wallet out. “No, thank you, Mary. What’s the damage?” I already knew. It’d be less than ten bucks, but I dug out a fifty-dollar bill anyway.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me the check.
I glanced at it before slipping the fifty into the little pocket folder. “That should cover it.”
“Oh, no, sir, it’s really too much.”
I closed my hand over hers to stop her from giving it back. “How’s Kyle doing, by the way? Things settle down at school?” She was a twenty year old single mom working two jobs, one of which paid below the minimum wage. Fucking ridiculous how, here in the United States of America, one of the wealthiest fucking countries in the world, we have kids like this raising their own kids, struggling to put food on the table.
She smiled, knowing she needed the money. Knowing I knew it. “Kyle’s good, and, yes, it’s going better. The bigger kids stopped teasing him, it seems. His teacher’s pretty nice, actually.”
I smiled back at her. “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” I said, standing. “Oh, one more thing.” I took a business card out of my wallet and handed it to her. “I’ll be going out of town for a while, but if you ever need anything, don’t be a stranger.” She was a good kid. Got a shit lot in life, but a good kid.
Her nose reddened and her eyes moistened. “Thanks, Mr. Smith. You’re a great guy.”
I almost chuckled, wondering if she’d think that if she knew the reason for my daily visits.
I dug the keys out of my suit pocket and went around the corner to where I’d parked my Harley. People turned to stare as I climbed on. It was only natural, I supposed, to watch a big guy in a three-piece suit, wearing shoes costing more than most made in a month, ride a fucking Harley through town. The bike was the only part of the past I brought into my present. The rest I’d return to later, when it was done.