"Sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities," I say, smiling. We're at an underground bare-knuckles fight. Fuck is hardly the most offensive thing she's been exposed to tonight.
"Not at all," she says. "I like a man who talks dirty." She takes a sip from the bottle, tipping it toward me. "Want some?"
I don't think she just means the beer.
Over her shoulder, behind her in the crowd, I see a guy in a decent-looking grey suit. He's standing with a few other people but his attention is clearly fixed on her, watching. I tilt the bottle back toward her with my index finger. "Who are you here with?"
"No one special," she says, taking a step toward me. "Unless you want some company."
Women. They smell good, they look good, they taste good, but they can be so bad for you.
I've been Grey Suit back there. Even in the shadows of the warehouse I can read the look on his face, the narrowed eyes, slightly turned down mouth. He's a guy who knows that just because he's the one who's taking this girl out tonight it doesn't mean he's going home with her. Back when I was fighting, my girlfriend at the time used the hours I was knocking guys' blocks off to get her rocks off. She even slept with some of my opponents, who I beat anyway, but still-I don't know if she was just bored or mean, didn't love me or herself or both, but when we broke up two years ago, I swore off relationships. My motto is get in and get out, in all ways possible.
So Tight Dress standing in front of me, just the right size to straddle my lap in the front seat of my Audi, would usually be the perfect ending to a night.
But I can't abide dishonesty, not even from a one-night stand. Like I said: there are standards.
"Your date's not doing it for you?" I say, nodding at Grey Suit who's now standing by the door where people are starting to exit. It must be after two a.m. by now and a weeknight, which means most of these people are six hours away from clocking in at the office tomorrow. Thrill seekers by night, executive decision makers by day, that's a lot of our audience, and even though I've never been able to tolerate living that kind of rigid, conventional lifestyle for myself, their money's just as good as anyone else's. They may even have a greater appreciation for the brawls, since bare-knuckles fighting is a far cry from whatever uptight Fortune 500 company or corporate law firm they work at.
She glances at Grey Suit, then turns back to me. "He's okay," she says. That pretty mouth of hers widens. Despite the darkness of the warehouse, her teeth gleam like white stones. "But you're Ryder Cole." She runs her hand lightly over my arm. "And I'm willing."
My bicep belies my intention to be behave, contracting instinctively as her fingers linger on my suit sleeve. "To do what?"
"Anything you want."
I lean close to her. "I want you to go home with the guy that brought you and fuck his brains out like a good girl," I say. "But you can think about me while you're doing it."
I cross to where Tyler waits by the door. Security will close up. We've got business to attend to.
Discover Ryder and Cassie's story. HARD is available now!
Acknowledgements:
Thank you to all the readers and bloggers for supporting me and spreading the word about The Hotel. YOU ARE AMAZING and I heart you all. So. Much.
To Heather at Obsessed With Myshelf, thank you for your unwavering support and your love for Dom. The term clit bait should now and forever be added to the dictionary in my opinion. LOL Thank you for introducing me to all things Jamie and for keeping me satisfied with gifs and pics when I'm too busy writing to buddy read. So glad I popped the question. Or was it you? *winks*
A huge thank you to my Twitter Towel Tuesday bunch: Book Slut Goddess, Lila, Roxy, Rose, Karen, SJ (Jess) and Diana and so many more who join in the fun. Thanks for keeping things filthy. Xo