Worthy of You: Book One in The Haze Nightclub Series Read online

  I find my words, “Thank you.” I yell over the music.

  He leans into my ear, “Anytime.” His breath blows the flushed skin of my cheek when he speaks, and I melt. I feel wetness pool in my panties, and my knees weaken from the tightness in my belly. Fuck me, this could be bad.

  Chapter Three: Lo

  Fuck. She’s even more beautiful up close. This isn’t one of those beer-goggle type things that happen in the bar, where a woman looks good in the dim lights and from afar after too much alcohol. No, she’s fucking gorgeous. The way her mouth is parted and she’s sucking in air like she can’t breathe is sexy as fuck too. As soon as I saw that asshat Gerald grab her arm, I knew it was the last time he’d ever be in my club. You don’t touch perfection. I should listen to my own advice too, but I can’t; her full ass and sexy eyes are pulling me in and I contemplate taking her straight upstairs. Instead, I ask her to dance. I don’t dance in my own club. It’s a silent rule everyone who works for me knows, including women who’ve gone upstairs with me in the past, but this is different. I know she won’t follow me up the stairs if I ask her, so we’re going to fucking dance, I guess.

  “Okay,” She mouths. I can’t hear her over the music, but I can tell it’s breathy and sweet and I feel my cock twitch. Shit, this is a bad fucking idea.

  “I need to tell my friend.” She points to the Harlem-raised beauty I’ve seen Manny with before. She’s hot, and full of fire. Too much for my taste, though. I watch as she pushes through the crowd and talks to her friend. Her eyes flick to me as her lips move around her words, and Manny’s girl looks at me with wide eyes, smiles big, and says something that causes her to slap Harlem’s arm, shake her head, and laugh. My dick goes hard at the sight of her broad smile that pulled me down the stairs, and I adjust myself before she turns to walk back to me.

  I lead her to the dance floor with my hand in the small of her back, then turn her around and pull her close. We start to sway and grind to Beyoncé’s Partition. The song is lustful and sensual, and she turns around and continues to rock and sway to the music with her ass right where I want it. She runs her hands up her sides and then back down to her hips and puts both hands over mine, roaming her body once more, my hands itching to grip the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Quiet, but confident in herself and body. Her features are delicate and when she looks down, her long lashes graze the skin below her eyes.

  I veer one hand away from hers and bring it teasingly up her inner thigh. When I reach the hem of her dress she turns around and lifts one side of her mouth in a smile, shaking her head slowly back and forth. Shit. She’s not what I hoped. But I knew that, didn’t I? I touch her cheek with the back of my hand and run a finger over her jaw line down, splaying my hand on her neck. She’s beautiful, pure, and not as experienced as she’d like me to think. I can see it in her eyes, the fire fear lights when my fingers flex on her neck. She closes her eyes and tips her head back, and I allow my hand to travel lower, following the steep dip in her dress.

  “Come with me.” She hesitates for a second and then waves to her friends, pointing at me and then fanning her face to show she’s hot and needs a break. They both smile and wave her off. I grip her hand, pulling her along behind me.

  Chapter Four: Renee

  This is a horrible, stupid, terrible idea. What the hell am I thinking following this man I don’t even know up some stairs in the far corner of the club? We top the stairs and he pulls a card from his pocket and swipes it next to the door, a blinking red light flashes green. He pushes the door open and steps in, holding it open for me. I pause for a second at the top step and peer inside. It’s like an apartment in there. There’s a bar and a seating area that faces the dance floor. The mirror lining the wall from the outside is actually a one-way window, and everything is completely visible from here. Even the other side of the bar.

  I step all the way in, and Mr. Suit is watching me intently as if I’m about to run screaming down the stairs. He lets the door shut behind him and the static between us increases in the close space. The music is muted, and the quiet amplifies. He reaches out his hand. “I’m Milo Turner. My friends call me Lo.” Confidence pours from his lips when he speaks. Hearing his voice in the quiet up here, away from the pounding music is a whole new danger. I can hear the streets in his speech, hear the hardened man they’ve created, and the business man that’s taken over, in one deep, rumbling package.

  “Renee,” I reply, barely above a whisper.

  “You’re safe, Renee. This is the VIP, and if you’re too uncomfortable you can go, I won’t stop you.” His eyes show no emotion, and the no-bullshit look on his face is ever-present, like this is a line he uses as insurance when bitches decide what they got wasn’t all they’d ever wanted. My heart drops to my stomach. He said I could go, not that we could go back down. I shake my head.

  “Can I get you a drink?” He asks walking to the bar.

  “Sure, a water please.” I need to be sober for this… whatever it is. I move to the seating area, my heels tapping against the white marble, and take a seat on the plush, white leather of one of the arm chairs. It’s cold on the back of my thighs and cools my feverish skin as I sit back. Lo, God that’s a sexy name, settles in the chair next to me and passes me a bottle of water.

  “How’d you land the VIP on such a busy night, Lo?” I ask, liking the way his name sounds coming from my mouth.

  His eyes never change from dark and broody, but he smirks. “This is my club, and this is my personal room. I don’t rent it out.” He allows what he says to sink in, taking a sip of something amber in his glass, gauging my reaction. “Interesting.” Is all I say on a shrug, trying not to give away my surprise. Fuck, he’s the owner?

  The fact that I’m unimpressed with his admission seems to bother him and proves my poker-face worked. Like, it’s his pick-up line that works on every chick he brings up here. He pinches his lips into a flat line and then speaks, “You should really be careful who you talk to in clubs. That asshole that grabbed you earlier wasn’t going to let go without a fight. Finding yourself under him in the morning wasn’t on your list of things to do tonight, I bet.” He deadpans, with a sudden fire burning in his eyes.

  His knuckles start to turn white as he grips the glass he’s holding tightly. Thinking about someone on top of me angers him. My mouth goes dry, and the possessive tone of his voice goes straight to my sex. I look him in the eyes and shift in my seat, searching for relief from the burn between my thighs. His domineering tone turns me on and pisses me off at the same time.

  “I could have held my own.” I snap, irritation winning over the lust. “Is it any better that I’m sitting in a private room with you?”

  “Watch your tone.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks, his voice irritated. “No. It’s not.”

  Watch my tone? Who the fuck does this guy think he is? I knew I shouldn’t have followed him up here. I can feel the anger constricting my chest and I screw the cap back on my bottle of water and stand. “Watch my tone? Who the—” He stands and quickly strides over to me causing me to back away until my back hits the glass wall. I try to take a step forward, but he wraps one arm around my waist and reaches the other behind my neck, pulling me to him.

  “Watch. Your. Tone.” He repeats slowly, emphasizing each word, and then his mouth is on mine. He licks the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. My lips part and his tongue searches my mouth slowly, methodically licking and rolling with mine. I forget to breathe and my knees threaten to give out on me, my head swimming. Never in my life have I been kissed like this. As if sensing my demise, he pushes me into the glass, positioning his knee between my legs to support me. I’m limp and oxygen deprived, and hot. Holy, hell. My body is on fire from just one kiss. He pulls his mouth from mine and his breath dances across my lips, “Breathe, Renee,” His breath smells of expensive bourbon and mint. It’s heady, and I suck in a breath as he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, bit
ing down hard enough for it to hurt. My nipples bead, and I can feel my panties quickly becoming soaked as he gently sucks to soothe the pain. “Turn around,” he orders, and I do without hesitation. “Good girl.” He speaks into my hair, and I hear a faint smile in his words. “Hands on the glass, baby.”

  I immediately put both palms on the vibrating glass and look at the people dancing below. I see Viv and Krysta grinding to a song, and I close my eyes. Lo runs his hands up my body, “You can leave anytime. Just say the word and I’ll stop.” He’s peppering kisses down my jaw, and sucks in my flesh at the base of my neck, no doubt leaving his mark. I should tell him to stop. I should leave. I’ve been up here all of five minutes and he has me against the glass, my ass pushed back, and ready for him. I inhale sharply and press my ass into his front anyway. He chuckles. “I thought so.”

  His statement angers me, but not enough to protest as he pinches my nipples through my dress. “You’re perfect, Renee. Perfection.” He pulls the zipper on the back of the dress open, his fingers tracing back up my bare skin. I never knew pretty words could sound so sexual. “I’m going to fuck you baby.” I moan, and my head falls back on his shoulder. “No, no.” He chides, “Watch them.” By them he’s referring to the crowd below, and I raise my head back up and watch through hooded eyes as they dance, oblivious to what’s happening just above them.

  He reaches down and slips his fingers under the hem of my dress and in one fluid motion lifts it over my head, tossing it to the floor behind us. My hands leave the glass long enough to lose the dress, but I immediately replace them. I tell myself it’s for the stability, and not to please him, but the approval in his reflection sinister. Without the glass, I’m not sure my body would stay vertical. His hands come around to my front and he rubs me through my panties while his other hand pinches my nipple. Hard.

  A moan rolls across my lips. “So wet.” He hums in my ear. I’m panting and coming unglued, and he’s the epitome of control. “Spread your legs and push that ass out, Angel.” And I do without hesitation. My quick response rewards me with a hiss of sanction. “That’s my girl.” He croons, rubbing my clit. “I’m going to fuck you, Renee. Fast and hard. Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I pant. “Please.”

  “That’s right, baby. Beg for it.”

  One hand drops from my nipple and I can hear him unzipping his pants. His other is still rubbing circles through my panties. I feel his dick drop onto my ass and I push back again, trying to get closer and I’m rewarded with a hard smack on the ass.

  Holy shit. Did he just spank me? And hard too. I moan in pleasure and press back again, and again a blow lands on my cheek. Harder this time. I inhale sharply at the sting.

  “Be still.” He commands, and I instantly calm my movements, my heart pounding in my chest. His hands leave my body and I moan at the loss and faintly hear a package ripping. He slides my panties down my legs and leaves them at my ankles above my red pumps, an empty package now beside my feet. I’m naked with nothing but my shoes and a thong around my ankles, in a club with a man I just met. What the hell am I doing?

  I don’t have long to question myself before his hands return, tweaking my nipples and then one slips back down between my thighs. He fingers his way into my folds finding my clit. He begins to circle it slowly, building rhythm until he’s making quick circles and my breath is coming in spurts. I’m so close to the edge. I moan, and my head falls back on his shoulder. He moves his hand from my nipple to my jaw, turning my lips into his.

  “Come for me, baby.” And I do. Sparks ignite behind my eyes and my body convulses in ecstasy. Then he’s pulling me back by my hips, aligning my entrance with his length. He grabs my hair with one hand, and my hip with the other. “Watch them, Renee. Keep your hands on the glass and watch them.” He commands through clenched teeth and then slams into me; long, thick, and hard. My breath leaves me in a rush, and he pulls out, slamming into me again. My walls are contracting, trying to adjust to his size. “Take me, baby. Take it all.” The pounding becomes faster and my eyes close. It’s too much. Too big, too hard, too fast, but so damn good.

  He releases my hair and reaches around to my clit. It’s sensitive and I jump when he touches it, which only pushes me back onto his cock and I moan louder. “Come with me, Renee. Come on my dick.” And again, I’m falling. Spiraling out of control on an orgasm like nothing I’ve ever felt. His moves become more frantic and he grips my hair at the roots and pulls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He yells and then stills, pumping his release into me.

  We stay just like that; me, bent over with my hands on the window. Him, his hand in my hair and other gripping my hip. My pussy still spasming around his dick, and every time it does he pulls out and slams in again, elongating the end of my orgasm and causing small, hoarse moans to fall from my lips. I’m spent and have no faith in my legs to continue to hold me, but I stay until my knees start to shake, and I think he senses I’m going down because he slowly pulls out and tells me I can stand. His voice void of emotion. Calm and cool, like we didn’t just have earth-shattering sex.

  Chapter Five: Lo

  Fuck that was good. My dick is still semi-hard when I pull out of her and I consider switching condoms and bending her over the couch. She’s a damn good listener too, and the way that ass shook when I smacked it would bring any man to his knees.

  “You can stand up now.” I tell her, and her back immediately straightens. She turns to face me with her thong still around her ankles and I feel my cock twitch. She’s so goddamn gorgeous. She looks up at me through her lashes and blushes. I just fucked the shit out of her and she blushes like some school girl.

  I drop down on my knees and kissed the slit of her lips. She’s perfectly waxed, and I slide my tongue along the seam as I pull her panties up. Her thighs are wet with her arousal, and I fight the urge to burry my face in her. I put her thong into place, plant a kiss below her navel and squeeze her ass cheeks again. Righting myself I turn and walk to the bar without a word, pouring myself a drink to occupy my hands that are eager to caress her skin. She watches me wordlessly from across the room, still rooted in the same place I left her. Gloriously naked in her sky-high pumps.

  “You okay?” Why the fuck did I ask her that? That’s a question someone who cares asks. I have three rules when it comes to picking up chicks at the club: don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t care. These three rules have kept me out of relationships. I’m not jaded from a past ex or ruined by a love who didn’t love me back, no, I just don’t see the point in ruining a good thing. I fuck, they leave, we move on. No birthdays, Christmases, Valentine’s day. None of that shit that involves feelings.

  “Yes,” is all she says. It seems like there’s something else lingering in the air, but whatever it is she keeps it to herself. Thank fuck. She gives me a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and walks to the couch that has her dress draped across it. Her body tapping in those pumps is too fucking much. Her ass is what every girl spends months at the gym for, but I can tell she didn’t, it’s a God-given gift. She slips the dress over her head, and then looks back over her shoulder, silently asking me to zip her up. I set my glass on the bar and make my way back over to her, all too happy to have my hands on her again. I push her long curls off the back of her neck and pull the zipper slowly, dropping a kiss at the base of her neck when I reach the top. The intimacy lighting something in me that’s foreign and untouched.

  This is where I usually ask them if they need me to call them a cab or remind them their friends might be looking for them, but she beats me to it. She’s nervous now, fidgety even. “I should probably go… I, um… yeah.” The confidence she had is gone, and I slip my icy glare back into place making sure she knows I agree. She wants to go, and that’s what I should want her to do, but I don’t. I want to ask her to stay. I want to ask her to go home with me, where no woman has gone, but I don’t, and it pisses me off she’s beat me to the punch. Fuck, it pisses me off she’s not trying to stay so I can be the on
e to dismiss her. It might make it easier to let her leave.

  “Yeah, you should. I’ll show you out.” I say with bitterness in my voice, even though there’s a shit storm brewing beneath the surface, and I walk to the door. I didn’t get to ask her to leave, but I sure as shit will let her know I agree. She follows me and when I open it, she tucks a curl behind her ear and opens her mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, her eyes widening slightly with questions she doesn’t ask, and she descends the stairs without a word. Good. I don’t do clingy, but fuck me if the confusion and hurt in her eyes doesn’t churn my stomach. I’m an idiot for letting her up here, I knew this wasn’t her thing the moment I saw her on the floor, but I went against my gut. I’m a fucking fool and a dick of epic proportions.

  A few minutes pass and I walk to the window. She’s talking to both of her friends by the bathroom door, while one of them is tapping something into a phone. She looks ridden with guilt, and maybe anger. There’s two lines between her perfectly shaped eyebrows where they’re pushed together with emotion, her face is so expressive. My fist lands against the glass, shaking the pane. “You’re a goddamn idiot, Lo.” I tell myself as I take a seat with my bottle of bourbon, only to stand again to answer a knock. My pulse quickens, hoping it’s her, but knowing I shouldn’t. When I open the door I’m faced with Natalie. Fucking great. She sets her shoulder against the side of the door, pushing her fake breasts out. I swear to God, I can smell the bleach in her hair, the blonde fake, just like the rest of her. Usually, I’d pull her in and fuck her until last call, but not tonight. I don’t want her to taint the space Renee just left.