have no idea why I got that impression in the three seconds I was face-to-face with him, but I did. And he was wearing a linen suit. At a strip club. That’s all I could see through the haze of smoke.
“Sorry,” I said, getting out of there as fast as I could. I spun around and opened the second door.
Inside was a small room with two big leather couches. In the shadows in the far corner there was the gleam of another leather chair, and I made a beeline for it before all my courage deserted me.
I tucked my legs up under me and tried to be as small as I possibly could and called Dylan.
“Are you still in the parking lot?” he asked, his voice teasing.
“No,” I whispered. “I’m in a VIP room. I’m going to watch…”
The door opened again and in walked Renee, who was like seven feet tall in her outrageous sequined heels. The guy she was with came in behind her, his hand wide across her belly, keeping them together.
God, my breathing sounded so loud. And I shifted in the chair and the leather creaked. I closed my eyes, my hands across my mouth.
It hadn’t even started and I was ruining this.
“Hit the button, baby,” Renee said. And the man, who’d clearly been here before, reached over and tapped a button on a black box on the wall and music filled the room.
I turned my phone so no one could see the glow. Or at least I hoped they couldn’t.
Renee turned them a little better so they were almost facing me head on, though there was twenty feet between us. The lighting was super dim but I saw her face.
She winked at me.
“Layla,” Dylan murmured. “Are there people in there with you?”
“Yes,” I breathed as quietly as I could, watching Renee and the guy to see if they heard me. They were locked on each other, the music blocking out any sound of my voice for them.
“What do you want?” Renee asked and for a second I thought she was asking me, but the man spoke up.
“Your mouth on my cock,” he said, and Renee laughed and then gasped when the man’s hands came up and cupped her breasts. Palmed them.
“Can you hear that?” I whispered to Dylan.
“Yeah, baby, I heard. You’re watching a blow job.” His voice, oh, God, his voice was so thick. So heavy. I could feel how turned on he was.
“What do you want?” the guy on the couch asked Renee.
“My mouth on your cock,” Renee said.
His dark laughter rumbled through the room. “This is why we work.”
This is why we work. I could say the same thing to Dylan right now.
Renee stepped away from the guy and gave him a shove over to the couch. He fell back willingly, and she grabbed a pillow from beside him and tossed it on the floor at his feet.
“Tell me,” Dylan ground out in my ear.
“She’s kneeling in front of him.”
Quickly, Renee undid the guy’s pants, her eyes flicking occasionally up to his. He was biting his lips, his hands up on his head, like he was trying hard not to touch her. Like he didn’t want to ruin the show.
And then she reached into the shadows of his open pants and pulled out his dick.
“Fuck, baby, go,” he breathed.
Renee closed her fist around him and pumped him slowly, from bottom to top.
Like Dylan.
“She’s touching him the way you like it,” I whispered. “Hard.”
Dylan groaned. The guy on the couch groaned.
“You want more?” Renee asked. And she could have been asking all of us; she had us all in the palm of her hand right now.
“Yeah,” the guy said.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Oh God. Forget about being quiet. Forget about not being noticed—I was going to go up in flames in this corner. Literally spontaneously combust.
“Touch yourself,” the guy said, and again, my mouth fell open. Was he talking to me?
But he was talking to Renee, who slipped a hand down between her legs.
“Show me how wet you are,” the guy said.
“Yeah?” In the shadows it was too dark to really see what she was doing, but I got the idea when she lifted her hand and held it up to the man’s face.
“Taste how wet I am.”
The man opened his mouth and Renee slipped her fingers in. The guy groaned. Renee groaned. I nearly died in my chair.
“She touched herself and put her fingers in his mouth,” I told Dylan.