breathe.
Chance’s face is mere inches away from my own, his dark brown eyes boring into mine. "I want you to finish what we started here," he says so quietly that only I can hear him.
I shake my head, slowly at first before speeding up. "No, definitely not, not gonna happen, Chance," I blurt.
Chance’s face hardens. His jaw clenches and he looks away. He doesn't say another word, just rolls away and takes the towel that one of the assistants left on the bed for us. He wraps it around his waist before heading off set. My gut twists. Shit, he’s upset now. Or pissed. Whatever he is, I feel like an ass. But what did he expect? I have barely touched him, other than what I had to do for this scene. There is no way that I’m ready or even willing to do more than what I already have.
I take the other towel from the bed and wrap it around my waist as I climb out of the bed. I’m not going to sleep with Chance. So who can I get to take the edge off this time? I’m not in the mood for Olivia again, or any of the other women I could booty call. Nah, none of them interest me. Time for new blood. Looks like I’m going to be dropping in on old Calvin tonight at Club Masquerade.
Chapter Nine
Parker
Club Masquerade – or as those familiar with it, Club M – is an exclusive upscale sex club owned by one of my best friends, Calvin King, better known to you as Charlie’s husband. It is a membership only club, and all precautions are taken to ensure everyone’s safety, including background checks. It’s perfect for me because it is also completely anonymous. Everyone has to wear a mask, and nobody can speak. See? Perfect.
I’m in a piss poor mood, so I’m not as friendly with Monica, the girl at the door, as I usually am. She must see it on my face because she doesn’t press me. I grab my nametag and in-house messenger from her as I slide my mask down my forehead. She raises an eyebrow in question and I know exactly what she is asking. Yes, I need a key for a VIP room tonight. She hands me an oversized brass key and I briefly enjoy the familiar bite of sharp, cold metal on my palm. The irony not lost on me that I’ve already unlocked one too many doors today.
An attractive red head catches my eye from across the room. She is tall and statuesque. Not my usual go to type – soft and petite - but today of all days is time to shake it up. We text back and forth a few times, trying to feel her out, see what she is looking for. When she writes the magic words “no strings attached,” I send her the room number and ask her to meet me up there in ten minutes. I need to have another drink first. Work today was nothing short of a mind fuck, and I can’t seem to shake it. Please let this girl solve my problem, I send up a silent prayer.
I shut and lock the bedroom door before turning to find Big Red, as I’ve dubbed her, standing by the end of the bed. I rip my shirt over my head as I cross the room to her and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her tight against me as my lips descend on hers. She moans and grips my shoulders.
I lift her so that she wraps her arms and legs around me, then I crawl up onto the bed with her, putting her under me. Something feels off about it. I try to ignore it, try not to think about how wrong it feels to have this woman under me. What the fuck is wrong with me? She is gorgeous and she has huge boobs. I’ve always loved a big rack. Loved? I am momentarily shocked by my past tense thoughts. I lift my head and stare down at her beautifully flushed face, at least what I can see of it.
She draws her brows in concern as if to ask, "You okay?"
I shake my head to clear it and try to give her a smile. Nodding down at her. But I am completely distracted, my mind drifting to a hard body with firm lips.
She pouts, clearly seeing that I’m not all here with her. Trying to keep my attention, she rolls us so that she is on top, and then wiggles her way down my
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