Brazen (A Miami Lust Novella Book 1) Read online

  “Hey, Matt. Can I talk to you for a moment?” I ask politely.

  “Sure, Mr. Solis. What’s up?” he asks, taking a long drink from his glass.

  “The blond that you just charmed, did you offer her a lap dance in a private room?”

  “Yes, sir. Is something wrong?” he asks. I watch him swallow more of his drink. His eyes are wide with curiosity and maybe a little fear. Good.

  “Not really, but I’d appreciate it if you found another girl for your entertainment tonight. That one’s taken. Or she will be,” I advise, smiling big at the thought of having her for myself. But not tonight.

  “Sure, no problem. She’s being taken to Room 7 though. I asked Perry to escort her there,” he states.

  “I’ll take care of it, no worries. I’ll make it up to you, but this girl...she’s mine. No one touches her again. Understand?” I ask. He nods and leaves quickly, heading towards the prop room.

  What the fuck? No one touches her again. Where did that come from? I must be losing my fucking mind. I head to Room 7 and give a two-knuckle knock before twisting the doorknob. She startles and turns around to face me. At first, hunger flashed in her eyes, but then shards of ice pierced me with her glare. She’s pissed that it’s me coming through the door. “Brooke, you’re not doing this,” I command.

  “The fuck I’m not,” she laughs loudly. “I’m drunk and I’m horny. It’s happening. I need it to happen.”

  “And why do you need this?” I ask. I’m confused. I walk towards her but she moves away.

  She steps over to her full drink that’s sitting on the side table and downs it. It looked like a Long Island Iced Tea. That’s gonna hit her hard in fifteen minutes. “C’mon Brooke. Tell me. Why are you here getting drunk and taking on offers that you shouldn’t at my club?” I ask. She walks back towards me and gets right in my face, looking directly into my eyes. She’s fearless and has a point to prove.

  “Because I spent an hour with a god today, and I can’t have him. So, I’ll take the closest thing to him,” she hisses at me, “knowing it won’t come close, but anything is better than nothing at all. I’m tired of being told what and who to do.”

  “Do you even know what you agreed to? This isn’t the Brooke I met earlier today,” I bellow. “This is wild and reckless, Brooke. There are consequences and regrets...” she cuts me off with a forceful kiss that’s all lips and tongue barraging my mouth. It’s a passionate kiss that’s demanding and needy. At first she clings to me, pulling at my neck and hair to hold me close, but then it morphs into desire, and she slows down entwining our tongues and nipping at my lips. I can taste the alcohol on her lips. She loosens her grip on my shirt, and finally releases my lower lip bowing her head to not look at me.

  “I want to make a few choices in my life...even if they’re the wrong choices,” she whispers. “Maybe I need reckless with regrets so I can feel that I actually lived.” She walks over and sits on the edge of the chaise lounge in the room with her back to me, and reaches up to untie the strings that are holding the dress around her neck. She stands and shimmies her hips for the dress to drop to the floor before turning around to face me.

  Jesus Christ. She’s a goddess. My dick was already hard in fighting with her, but now it’s a fucking steel rod. Her silk corset and tiny panties are fire engine red to match her dress. The corset pulls her breasts in and they mound over the top in perfection. God, I want to run my tongue over them and nibble at her hard nipples until her knees go weak. Garters hang from the bottom that hold sheer black stockings. My fingers are itching to skim just inside the hem to stroke the sensitive part of her thighs. If she wasn’t a potential vendor, I’d be on my knees right now crawling towards her pussy salivating for a taste.

  She lays back down on the chaise lounge and leans back posing her body giving a full view of her pleasure. She releases a heavy sigh as she closes her eyes and waits for me to come to her. This is the alcohol talking and playing tricks with my mind. But damn. I’d beg to play these games if she were any other woman. All I can do is turn and walk away quietly. I exit the door and motion Perry, the guard on watch in the hallway, to come over. “Don’t let anyone in here, and don’t let her leave.”

  Chapter 5 - Thiago

  I head back out to the show floor and approach her friends at the table up front. Handing them my business card, I show them I’m the GM. I explain that Brooke isn’t feeling well, and is lying down in my office. A slight lie, but they won’t know that. After answering a few questions, I promise to make sure she gets home and they can call her tomorrow to get all the juicy details of her lap dance. If she even remembers that it never happened. Of course, I invite them to stay longer to finish enjoying their evening, and leave them to continue their night.

  My plan is to take her to my place where she can sober up. The back entrance from our apartments leads right into the business suites hallway. With luck, no one will see us leave. Later, I’ll have to analyze this strange need to protect her, even if it’s from herself. It’s close to midnight and when the current shows end, this hallway will be flooded with people that paid for privacy.

  I softly enter Room 7 after Perry tells me she’s been quiet. She’s there in the same position that I left her, but she’s passed out—the alcohol finally kicked in. I wrestle her dress up her body, sliding it over her ample curves tugging and pulling gently to not wake her. I’m exhausted battling her body, and just as I re-tie the halter strings on her dress, she throws her arms around my neck, mumbling in her unconsciousness, “Thiago, why don’t you want me? I may be used and broken, but I’m loyal. I already know I could love you.”

  Her eyes are closed and her serene face tells me that her midnight confessions are over. Used and broken? What is she talking about? I carry her to the door where Perry is waiting to assist with the security door to the apartments. We slide through just in time of hearing the hallway noise pick up with patrons and dancers.

  She moans every time I jostle her when opening doors. My body is on-point with her little kitten mewls, because now it knows what’s under her dress and wants to play. My dick wants to slide up in her velvet pussy, feeling every pulse and stroke as she comes.

  I lay her down on the couch and stare in bewilderment at what to do about her. The gentleman in me says I should drive her and her friends safely home. The virile man in me screams to give her what she wants...me, but the protector in me wins. I tuck her in nicely with a blanket and pillow to sleep away whatever brought her here tonight. She looks so helpless, fragile and absolutely beautiful in her innocent slumber. Maybe we’ll talk in the morning.

  I sit in my chair facing her and enjoy a night cap in the quiet of the night. I wonder how old she is. She doesn’t look a day over twenty-one, but she is. She’s graduated college and lived in Europe, or so she said. I’m guessing her to be twenty-four, twenty-five at the most. Is she too young to run her family business? Does she have the drive and street savvy to deal with the dark side of the business world? I get the feeling that if she doesn’t have it now, she’ll learn quickly.

  I like her fire and gumption. I really like her honesty and inherent devotion for business ethics. She was horrified at the news of her father’s business practices, even if they were just rumor to her today. She’s a conundrum to me. I’m confused by her ignorance of feminine guiles. I thought all little girl’s learned to use them on men at a young age. Isn’t that how little girls wrap their daddy’s around their pinky fingers?

  I am well-versed in feminine guile behavior in having to dodge it every night, or lest I fall prey to getting hooked into marriage or a baby. A cold shiver runs down my spine when that thought rushes through my mind. Why am I wondering all this shit about her? It’s not like I’m an emotionally available man to do anything about it. The only care I give about women are if they’re bringing the condoms or not.

  Brooke begins to stir pulling me back from my wandering thoughts. She tosses the blanket to the floor in kicking her legs at some
invisible threat. She groans and grunts, finally releasing a slew of terrified words, “Not again, Thomas! Don’t. God no! It hurts. Stop. Pleeeease stop,” she shrieks. Tears are spilling down her cheeks as her nightmare unfolds.

  I drop to my knees and start whispering in her ear, “Brooke, sweetheart. Thomas isn’t here. He won’t hurt you anymore. I promise. Thomas is gone...far away. I won’t let him hurt you. Shhhhh now,” I recant over and over in her ear until she settles down.

  I brush her hair from her wet cheeks and wipe away the tears that are running in rivulets down her cheeks. She continues to sleep during her nightmare. Her breathing is working its way back to normal as she sleeps deeply again from my soothing whispers over and over again, repeating that he’s gone.

  I pull the blanket over her, and walk back out towards the club. After witnessing that, I need to breathe myself and be thoughtless for a moment. What hell on Earth could this angel have possibly been through that she needs to kick, push, and scream at invisible demons? I stop short of entering the club. The anger inside me is seething just under the surface. I can’t take this out into the club. It’s needs to be released, so I haul back and punch the wall, leaving a vivid crater indention of my fist. Work. Now, I need to work until this savage need to hunt Thomas down and hurt him passes. My fucking black soul hurts now. It feels vengeful, but against what?

  I help Claryssa and Dante close down while waiting for everyone else to leave. Dante and I sit at the bar in silence for a while as I swallow the last of my drink and wish him a goodnight. Entering my apartment, my first glance is to make sure she’s still on the couch, and she is. She’s rolled over onto her side, and her beautiful face remains relaxed in peaceful slumber.

  I’m exhausted and walk across the open floor plan of my apartment to the bed. I don’t bring women back here. It’s too personal. The white picket fence lifestyle isn’t for me. I can’t imagine having a wife and children in this industry. How would I explain to my kids what I do? I’m sure I wouldn’t ever be invited to career day. C’mon. Who the fuck dreams of one day running a strip club? Sure, probably boys in their early 20s, but this shit gets old after a while. You become your worst fucking nightmare...jaded and dead inside.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do, but it makes for long days and non-existent relationships. Jealousy and rumors run rampant. Alcohol and drugs are an issue. I do everything I can to keep that shit out of my club, but I’m realistic. Humans are basic creatures and most have demons. When I catch wind of it, I escort it to the door like trash. No one is fucking up my or my brother’s futures with that shit. I don’t trust easily in this slimy world I work in. Someone always wants something from you, right before they stab you in the back. It all makes me very tired and lonely.

  I strip down and get into bed facing her, not wanting to think another moment about my life or lack thereof. She’s in my line of sight, in case she wanders in the night. I can hear her soft breathing across the room, and I try to match mine to it.

  ****

  I wake up to feel the covers pulling across my arm and body heat pressed against my back. The smell of Brooke’s perfume and body scent invades my nose. She snuggles down into my bed and spoons our bodies together. I lie still for a moment letting this sink in and wait for my brain to process any apparent danger. Is she still drunk? Does she even know where she is or did she just see a bed and climb into it?

  Her breathing is deep and even again, and I’m too tired to worry about this now. As long as we both sleep, I don’t see this being a problem. We’ll deal with it in the morning.

  Okay...it’s been a few minutes and the problem with this scenario is that I can’t go back to sleep now. Her breasts...back up, let me start that over again...her naked breasts are pressed against my shoulder blades and all I want to do is roll over and suck on them until her nipples are hard enough to cut glass. I wanna hear her moan and mewl as I pump two fingers in her, priming her for my cock.

  There’s no harm in letting her sleep off her alcohol-induced fog for the moment. I can suffer one night of her pressed against me. I think, at least. Her soft breathing, at times, blows on my neck like a soft summer breeze. My hard cock teases my thoughts for the rest of the night.

  At one point, she cuddles closer to me and throws her left arm over my side splaying her fingers across my chest like it’s something she does every night. A few moments later, I feel her body tense as she slowly lifts her hand from me. Oh no! She’s not sneaking away. I grab for her wrist and pull her hand back down to my chest, twining our fingers together as she gasps in shock. She’s gonna pay for purposely getting drunk in my club. She’s not leaving without us talking.

  Her hand is tightly fisted in mine, and she’s twisting it back and forth to free it, releasing tiny shrieks of helplessness. The shrieks practically turn to screams of terror as she continues to wrench her hand loose. She’s pulling so hard, I’m afraid she’s gonna pull her arm out of its socket. “What are you doing, Brooke?” I ask. “Just calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  “So says the man that’s holding me captive while I’m naked,” she huffs, as she kicks my calf with her feet. She tires easily and breaks down in tears, pleading for me to let her go. There is a slight panic to her voice and I release her immediately in remembering her nightmare from earlier.

  “Hey, you were clothed when you were sleeping on the couch. You took your own clothes off. Don’t accuse me of that,” I chuckle loudly, teasing her, trying to lighten the dark mood that quickly overshadowed us. I watch her expression change from horrified to angelic to pouty. Her lips are pursed out, and she downcasts her eyes from me. She knows what she did, and I caught her. She rubs her wrist where I held her, and lays back down releasing an exasperated sigh.

  Heaving another heavy sigh, she whimpers, “I needed that lap dance last night and you cock blocked me. Why?”

  “Why did you need it?” I ask. Something isn’t connecting in my brain with what I know from her nightmare. “I’ve never heard of anyone needing a lap dance.”

  “I wanted it. Badly. Okay? You had me all stirred up from earlier today with your dark, sexy looks and sultry voice. I need stress relief too,” she groans and rolls over sitting up on the edge of the bed with her back to me. It’s perfect in its slender, winding path down to her firm ass. “I know your morals aren’t going to allow us to happen. You hate my father, and frankly, I hate him now too.

  I’m speechless with her confession. She’s attracted to me. That’s the best fucking news I’ve heard since moving to this town. I rake my fingers through my hair as I try to process what to say and do next. How did this get so fucking messy? Why does this woman have my head spinning?

  “I’m closing my eyes. Could you please go and get dressed before we say anything further?” I ask. The temptation of her body needs to be covered up so I can think rationally. Right now, the vision is branded in my brain. She continues to sit in silence without moving a muscle. I’m not sure if she’s lost in thought or blatantly ignoring my request since I can’t see her face. “Listen, Brooke. If you don’t get dressed in the next few minutes, I’m gonna lay you down and devour you like you deserve. You will not be allowed any regrets if that happens.”

  She reaches down and grabs the throw blanket from the floor, wrapping it around her lithe body. Instead of walking towards her clothes to get dressed, she lays back down on the bed next to me. She crosses her naked feet and stretches out lengthwise, now lying hip to hip with me.

  She exhales a very deep breath before speaking. “Dad and I got into an argument about his business practices,” she confesses. I roll over onto my side, facing her as she turns and looks me in the eyes. “I need you to touch me. I need you to own me from head to toe. I need you to brand me with your touch to the point where I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

  “Brooke. I can’t,” I whisper, with a hint of regret. I pick up the stray strand of hair laying across her collar bone and twist in around my finger, giving it
a gentle tug. I already own her, but I’ll ruin her feisty spirit. She deserves more than this broken, jaded man. But even more than that, her demons are haunting her and I’m not enough to heal that. “The nightmare you had earlier, speaks volumes about your life before me. Whomever it is trapped inside your brain, they’re still there, and I won’t compete with that.” I release her hair and allow it to fall back against her skin.

  She stands quickly in anger, sweeping her long hair down her back before reaching for her discarded clothing. She turns abruptly and enters my bathroom with a hard slam of the door.

  Chapter 6 - Brooke

  He won’t compete with whoever is still inside my brain. He’s the one trapped inside my damn brain. Every moment I spend with him inches out the darkness of Thomas. As much as I want to stay and show him that he can heal me; that he is healing me—I need to get out of here. I need perspective, and I won’t find it here. Plus, I’m still mad as hell that he denied me my private time in the suites.

  He’s standing in the kitchen making coffee in basketball shorts and no shirt with disheveled hair when I walk out of the bathroom. I bet no woman around has seen him like this. He’s actually more adorable this way, but I’ll take the sexy suit with the matching voice over those shorts any day of the week. I hope he isn’t expecting me to stay for breakfast. I already have everything in my hands that I need, so I cruise on past him without a glance and walk out the door. I’m too mad at him for words, but I’m ashamed of myself most of all.

  What the fuck was I thinking in looking for a one-hour stand in his club? Stupid, Brooke. Class A stupid. I know what I was thinking— he’s got the best looking guys around, him included. My naughty Tumblr account is gonna have to keep me company, because there is no way I’m trying this again anytime soon.