Her Counselor (Love Hack, #3) Page 4

  “Sometimes. But then I remember—”

  “I know.” She couldn’t let him finish the thought. Doing so meant diving into a shared past, and the twisting in her gut told her that was a bad idea.

  Back then, when the two of them were together, she shared secrets with him no one else knew. Not Tate or Jared or anyone. She was pretty sure the things she knew about Damon fell into the same just-between-us category. For instance, once upon a time he wanted to major in history, and maybe teach after he graduated.

  His father’s stance had been straightforward, though. He hadn’t built his boys a life and a college fund from nothing, to see them struggle in go-nowhere jobs. So his father refused to pay for Damon’s college, unless Damon went into medicine or law. Damon started law school at the same time his brother, Ethan, decided to major in computer programming and said he’d foot the bill himself.

  Vivian knew Damon both resented and respected his brother for the decision, but also that Damon was content with his own choice, for the most part.

  The things that happened to them before and during college might have molded them, but that didn’t mean dwelling on the memories was healthy. She stood, and he did the same. “I should let you get going. We have weeks of long days ahead of us,” she said. A new song pounded into the night, and her attention drifted toward the club. She knew the tune. It was one of her favorite to dance to, when no one was looking.

  “Home?” Damon asked.

  She dragged her gaze back to him. “Where else would I go?”

  He closed the distance between them and rested a hand on her hip. Even through her skirt, the heat of his palm seared her senses. He nudged, prompting her to turn back toward the noise. “There, probably.”

  Dancing sounded better than the cigarette. Loud, mind-numbing, and all consuming. “I was thinking about it.”

  He slid his hand to the small of her back, and stepped close enough the faint scent of his cologne filled her thoughts. It mingled with the beat and the sound, and fuzzed her logic. “Do you need a dance partner?” he asked.

  She shrugged, trying to look casual, but unwilling to pull away from his touch. “I’m sure I can find someone inside.”

  He pressed into her, arm hooking around her waist, hip bumping hers. “Someone who moves with you as well as I do?” His question, low and confident, blended with the night.

  A smile rushed to her face, and she reached back to intertwine her fingers with his. “Haven’t met anyone else yet, who does.” This was a bad idea. Maybe. Probably. It certainly could have repercussions. Except, when it came right down to it, she trusted Damon. It might not be smart, and she wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking they were more than associates, but he wouldn’t use this against her.

  And damn it, she wanted to enjoy herself for the night. They both knew what they were doing, and no one was going to get hurt. It would be fine.

  “Come on.” His warm breath caressed her cheek, as he led her toward the building. “Check your second guessing at the door. Let’s go be other people for the night.”

  That was the best idea she’d heard in ages.

  Chapter Five

  DAMON PAUSED WHEN VIVIAN did, immediately inside the club. She took a step back. Only his arm around her waist stopped her from retreating.

  Even on the edge of the dance floor, he needed to dip his mouth to her ear, to hear and be heard. “Something wrong?” Besides the fact they were probably ten years older than anyone else in the room, and grossly overdressed compared to the jeans, short skirts and sometimes T-shirts—but just as often no shirts. Still, hesitation wasn’t like Vivian.

  She shook her head, said, “This is perfect,” and pulled him onto the dance floor.

  Within moments, she lost herself in the music, and he was happy to move with her. She draped her arms around his neck and slid her entire frame along his. She whirled and ground against him, ass pressing into his cock until it was rock hard and straining against his slacks. He didn’t have the fluid grace or skill she did, but this wasn’t the Atlanta Ballet, and he’d always matched her beat for beat in the clubs. Apparently and fortunately, his body remembered after so much time.

  Eyes were on them—on Vivian, really—and that heightened his enjoyment. He wouldn’t be surprised if half the club watched the slender woman, flowing like water from one song to the next, making her silk shirt and pencil skirt look better than any lingerie.

  The occasional guy or girl drifted into their tight space, vying for attention. Damon was only interested in Vivian, the scent of her perfume and the sheen of exertion on her skin tempting him to lean in and trail his tongue up her slender neck. She danced with anyone who floated close, but never pulled away from Damon, always keeping a hand, arm, or hip in contact with him.

  He lost track of the time. Somewhere along the way, she managed to undo the top two buttons on her blouse. Whenever she twisted in a new direction, he caught a glimpse of the tiny tattoo on her right breast. A violet. Her gift to herself on her twenty-first birthday. She’d laughed at her choice, because it was her stripper name, and she was sure she’d regret it in a few years, but that night she hadn’t cared.

  Did she regret it? He shook the question away and dove full force back into the now. No reason to linger on the past or tomorrow, or anything but how incredible it was to move against her and feel her press back. Over the course of the night, he resisted the desire to find a dark corner, shove her skirt up to her waist, and push inside her. It was only a fantasy, but since they checked the outside world at the door, he let it run rampant through his thoughts.

  They didn’t exchange words. It was too loud for talking, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment with the kind of thought speaking required. It had to be after midnight, when they reached a non-verbal agreement and extracted themselves from the thinning crowds, to head outside. Heat from the packed room and from arousal flushed Damon’s entire body. When they stepped into the night, the humid April air rushed over him, cooling him but not erasing his lust.

  Across the street, the hibachi-grill parking lot was empty, and the lights out. They didn’t have to worry about running into their colleagues. Pink decorated Vivian’s face and chest, and her smile looked etched in place. She whirled and let out a light laugh, as they strolled down the sidewalk. They were walking away from their cars, and he was fine with that.

  She spun back to him, pulled his arm around her waist, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m going to be beat in the morning.” Despite the words, she sounded infinitely less stressed than before they entered the club.

  Her frame pressed against his and restarted his finally-slowing pulse. Ambivalence raged inside. If she were anyone else, he wouldn’t hesitate to ask if she wanted to join him in his hotel room, but if she were someone else, the desire wouldn’t be the same. “Worth it?” he asked, more to keep his mind focused on things besides her stripping her clothing off a piece at a time.

  “Hell, yes. I may not ever do that again, but it was worth it. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I wouldn’t have gone in there on my own.” With each step, she bumped into him. Her perfume had faded in the club, and the scent was now mingled with that of alcohol and cigarette smoke. It shouldn’t smell right, but it drove his senses nuts.

  Without missing a beat, Vivian stepped in front of him and ground her ass against his cock. “I’d ask if it was good for you, too, but I’m making assumptions, based on the erection digging into my behind.”

  Their wandering had taken them to a nearby business park and a stretch of lush grass tucked away from lights or traffic. He dug his fingers into her hips and stopped them both. He dipped his head and traced his nose along her neck, barely touching her skin. “I had an amazing night.” His voice came out more gravelly than he intended.

  She pranced out of reach and turned to face him. “More fun than the waitress last night?”

  The who? Oh, yeah. “I’d forgotten about her.”


  Vivian raised her brows, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m sure she appreciates that.”

  With the night air filling his lungs and the distance between them, reason and reality were sinking in. Damon wasn’t sure he liked it. Tomorrow they could go back to being on different sides and not talking. “Probably no more than she appreciated me deciding I wasn’t interested, after all.”

  Vivian sank to the ground and tucked her legs to one side. She leaned back and rested her weight on her palms, the posture accentuating her breasts and the fact she’d never redone the top two buttons on her blouse. “You really didn’t pick her up.”

  He sat across from her, enjoying the view. “I did, actually, but I couldn’t follow through. Her closing argument didn’t move me the way it should have.”

  VIVIAN HAD NO RIGHT to be jealous of anyone Damon hit on, regardless of whether or not it went anywhere. That didn’t stop relief from whispering through her. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “No you’re not. You’re even less sorry to hear it’s because I enjoyed talking to you so much, she couldn’t compete.”

  Every time he swept his gaze over her, Vivian’s heart beat faster, and her temperature rose. The dancing had been amazing, not only because she needed to let loose, but also because Damon was right. No one moved with her the way he did. And his physical response... Thinking about his cock pressed against her and the possessiveness in his grip made dampness grow between her thighs. It must have been something in the air. She knew better than this. “It doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

  “Do you ever miss it?” He looked her in the eye, expression suddenly serious.

  “Having my feelings hurt? Nope. Walled that off a long time ago.” Speaking of keeping her defenses up, maybe it was time to dial it back. The problem was knowing she needed to keep her distance and wanting to do so different things, which happened to be very much in conflict with each other.

  “I meant college. Do you ever miss it?”

  “God, no.” The answer tumbled to her lips without hesitation. “Cramming, working, never sleeping, drinking too much alcohol to relax and too much caffeine to stay awake.”

  He plucked a piece of grass and pulled apart a strand at a time. “Are you describing back then or now?”

  “Touché.”

  “What about dancing?”

  “I still dance. I’ve got the studio in my condo.”

  He chuckled lightly. “I mean dancing.” Of course he did.

  She snorted derisively, but her denial didn’t come as easily this time. “Do I miss taking my clothes off for strangers, to pay my tuition?” Stripping was one of those things only Damon knew she’d ever done.

  He studied her again, something darker, more intense in his gaze. “It wasn’t all bad.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It had its good points.” She shouldn’t have admitted that, even to him, but desire tingled through her body, tightening her nipples and uncoiling in her belly.

  “And you were amazing at what you did. I have no doubt you still are.”

  “Putting on a show, to turn guys on, you mean?” The flattery added to the need aching between her legs and flooding her sex. She shifted on the grass enough that her skirt slid up several inches. A tiny part of her argued she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but she knew exactly what she was doing, and the urge to stop was non-existent.

  “I don’t care about them; I’m a selfish asshole like that. This is about you and me. Watching you move tonight, the way you ground against me, reminded me how much I miss the private shows.”

  Memories of then mingled with now, making her wet. A creeping concern grew inside that she was giving into this too easily. But they cut all the bullshit. It didn’t matter his ego showed, he’d set aside pretenses, and she wanted to do the same. “I miss it too.”

  “Would you consider a command performance?” The corner of his mouth twitched into an evil, hungry smirk.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs at the idea, and every inch of her begged to give in. She hadn’t completely lost her mind, though. They needed rules, and then she could yield. “A private peep show? No touching? No taking it away from here?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What are we doing?” Hesitation shoved the question out before she could stop it.

  “We’re college friends, catching up on old times. Nothing else. Nothing hanging over our heads in the morning, and the only thing keep is refreshed memories.” He spoke so smoothly, he erased the last of her doubt.

  She inched her skirt higher. “We’re in a public place.” Which should be enough of a deterrent on its own. Even though the place was deserted, they were within walking distance of the club and traffic chugged away on the other side of the hill, just out of sight. Logic told her that should be reason enough to stop. The indecision warred in her head, screaming to back away now.

  “There’s no one around. Besides, tell me the idea of being out in the open isn’t turning you on even more.”

  “It absolutely is.” Screw walking away, she’d take her chances. Something almost surreal seemed to envelope them, and while Vivian knew it wasn’t real, she wanted to lose herself in it. In him. Just for the night. She reached under her skirt, hooked her thumbs in her panties, and slid them down her legs. She tossed the undergarment to him.

  “Watching you dance reminded me of all those nights.” His voice slipped into a soothing, almost hypnotic rhythm. “When you’d show up at my apartment after work, horny as hell.”

  She sank into the words, enjoying the way they reverberated through her thoughts and summoned pleasant sensations from the past. She undid two more buttons on her blouse, cupped one breast, and massaged lightly through the lace. “I never broke the no-touching rule in the club, but God, sometimes feeling those hungry gazes on me turned me on so much.”

  “My favorite sound was the key in the lock, at three in the morning, and then the slight creak of the floor, as you crept into my room.”

  The past blended with the present in her head, intensifying the tingles racing along her skin. She squeezed harder, pinched her nipple, and rolled it between her fingers. “I used to feel bad about waking you up.”

  “Never feel bad about that.” He rubbed a visible bulge through his slacks. “Everything about those nights was fantastic. Telling you to take your clothes off. Watching you expose yourself. Seeing your gorgeous pussy when I told you to sit.”

  She spread her legs, pushing her skirt over her hips in the process, to give him a view. “I’d get so wet.” She trailed a finger along her slit, and a gasp tore from her throat. “I still do. Knowing you were as turned on as I was. Following your commands.” She faltered on the last word but swallowed the visceral response. It wasn’t any sort of promise or commitment, simply a mention of how things had been.

  “The way you’d drag your fingertips up your smooth, firm thighs.” As he spoke, she mimicked his words, dropping back into the memories.

  She scraped her nails up her skin and groaned at the touch.

  “Shove two fingers inside yourself.”

  She did as ordered, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth at the self-penetration. “It’s not as good as the real thing.”

  His laugh was strained. “But it’s delicious to watch.” The sound of his zipper dragging down was loud against the backdrop of the night. He worked his cock free and stroked slowly, always watching her. “Show me how you like it these days, but not too fast. Give me a slow buildup. No coming until I tell you.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She bit her bottom lip and withdrew her fingers. She glided them along her slit lightly, enough to make herself gasp, but never touching her swollen clit. She drew closer then pulled away, her breathing growing shallower with each pass.

  “Fuck. I love watching you.” Damon worked his shaft in a steady rhythm. “So hot.”

  She tried to keep her pace slow, even as the ache between her folds increased. When she bumped her sex, it made her
whimper, but she didn’t indulge in the desire. Not until she had permission. Need and delicious tension tightened her muscles, flowing over her entire body. Damon’s grunts heightened the throbbing begging for her touch.

  Her pussy clenched when she trailed her fingers over her clit again. The oxygen stole from her head, making her feel like she was floating.

  “I bet you’re close.” Damon’s rough voice amped her senses further. Each new touch tingled in her fingers and twinged in her nipples.

  “Yes.” She couldn’t say more.

  “Do you remember bending over the back of that chair?”

  New images folded into the existing ones. The enticing sensations of the past made her pulse race faster. The sounds. The feelings. The everything. “Yes.”

  “The sting when I slapped your ass.” His tone was ragged, punctuated by heavy breathing. “The delicious squeals you made.”

  She did remember. Every minute. Every sharp smack. The combination of pleasure and pain. “The way I lost myself in the agony, until I begged you to fuck me.”

  “Are you ready to beg now?”

  “Yes. God, yes.” She panted, fingers slick with her own juices, and sex swollen. Any touch might push her over the edge.

  “I want to hear it.”

  “Let me come for you, baby.” She spoke between breaths. “I’m so close. Please?”

  “Play with your clit. Get yourself off.”

  The moment she brushed the focus of her arousal, pleasure jumped through her. She leaned her head back, eyes closed, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. Climax spilled over her in waves, and still she stroked herself. In the background, she was vaguely aware of Damon’s familiar grunts. The punctuated sound that told her she wasn’t the only one who had reached orgasm. She fingered herself until the touch became too much, and even then didn’t pull away, until her own body shuddered from over-stimulation.

  She sank back onto the grass with a tiny sigh, exhaustion flitting in to mingle with euphoria. A new urge filled her—or maybe it was a very old one—to curl up next to him. Crawl into his embrace. Feel his fingers trail through her hair. Lie beside him until the glow faded and the buzz quieted, and then fall asleep. She did her best to squelch the impulse. Reliving a few memories didn’t mean she had to fall into old habits. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. She finally summoned the will to sit, and met Damon’s gaze.