The Diary of Brad De Luca
Page 3
“Both.”
“Julia. Trust me.”
Her mouth worked, indecision in her eyes, and then she nodded.
Brad slowly rolled down her panties, his eyes feasting on her skin as it was unveiled. A thin line of hair, cut short, leading to the lips between her legs, her knees stubbornly together, resisting when he pulled them apart. And then she was before him, her eyes large, her body open. And she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She had come apart underneath his mouth, his muscles contracting, her voice breaking, legs trembling, sex throbbing underneath his tongue. It had happened quickly, her body tuned and ready, needy for stimulation that had never been given. He didn’t know what her ex-boyfriends had done with her, but they had never taken the time to care for her properly. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to stand when he was done, to step back, to go to the closet and dress. He ran his hand along the hard ridge of his cock, the ache in his balls surprising, given his morning shower. He stuffed it into pants and grinned, thinking of her moans, her peak, the way she had called his name when she came.
He walked back into the room, his eyes trailing over her body, relaxed on the sheets, a lazy smile across her face. And he wondered how he would survive two more days with her. Because f**king her wasn’t an option. Not with the roller coaster his mind was on. Not with the risks that waited for them back at the firm. She rolled slightly, her na**d body curving, and he felt his c**k harden again.
Two days.
Might as well be an eternity.
the path to hell
Twelve hours later.
If the devil had a name, it would be Alexis. She was pure sex, pure temptation, and could get him off within fifteen minutes. And now, he was going straight to hell.
It was necessary. He couldn’t be around Julia any longer, not without lying her down and taking what he really wanted. He needed a release, a distraction. Something to remind him who he was and what he liked—both things Alexis knew very well.
He hadn’t planned on seeing Alexis this trip. But Julia had challenged him, wanting to see Vegas ‘De Luca-style.’ And if a strip club experience was what she wanted, then Saffire was the place to go.
Justification was a strong tool. He knew that, knew the path his c**k was insistent on him taking. He could have brought her somewhere else—visited a girly martini bar and one of the hot clubs. But instead they were heading down the Strip, toward Saffire, his muscles tightening in anticipation. He texted Alexis, alerting her to their arrival. She would know what to do, how to distract Julia while she handled his needs. And then they could leave, his body drained, his mind free, and he could return to playing the gentleman he wasn’t.
The car slowed, rumbling over the gravel, until it came to a stop before Saffire’s red doors.
Hell. He had arrived. His c**k awoke, thickening in his pants, and he turned to smile at Julia.
He f**ked Alexis without mercy, getting his fill, but making sure she was satisfied before pulling out. She dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth and swallowing every bit of him, her eyes on his. Watching. Analyzing. The orgasm should have released his tension, lulled him into a calm and controlled state, but it didn’t work. He was still frustrated, on edge, her body not fulfilling him in the way that it normally did, his mind still wound tightly.
And Alexis picked up on it. “You’ve never f**ked me like that before.”
“Sure I have.” He zipped up his pants, avoiding her critical eyes.
“No, not that ... hungry. Is it from being around her?”
He teased one of her nipples. “You sound a little jealous.”
She slapped his hand away. “I don’t care about you enough to be jealous. I just don’t know why you’re wasting your time with that lily-white baby when we both know what you need. And it ain’t her.”
Brad watched her, the line of her muscles, the length of her hair. She was exactly like most of the women he fucked. And nothing like Julia.
Alexis was right. What he needed was a woman who knew her sexuality. Who was open and forthcoming about what she wanted and from whom she would get it. He needed a woman who thought nothing of sucking his c**k outside a restaurant, one who was confident enough to share him with another woman. That was what he—or rather, his body—needed.
His mind wanted something else entirely. Someone he could take to functions, wine and dine, engage in meaningful conversation with. Someone who would accept him despite his last name and the skeletons in his closet.
The problem was that they were colliding ideals, qualities that would never be in the same woman. And neither matched Julia. Not the sexual willingness, or the life partner. She was too pure for him, too young. She would take one look at the real Brad and take off for parts unknown.
Alexis tilted her head back and blew a ring into the dark room. “Does she know where you are right now?”
“No. I assume you told Montana to keep her busy.” That was probably going to be a problem. He would have to tell her—deception not part of this game. How she reacted would be telling. But even if she ran—even if she went crazy and cursed him to eternity—it would be better than if he had weakened and slept with her.
If he had f**ked her, laid her down and ran his c**k over her body? Pressed against her sweet pu**y and pushed deeper with his cock? Felt that hot bundle of muscles squeeze and tighten, slow thrusting inside of her until they both came? It would have been disastrous. For both of their jobs, for her innocence, and for his sanity. Better that he released his sexual tension with Alexis.
Abstinence was not a strength of his.
He stood, straightening his suit, and running a hand through his hair. Julia was probably waiting, nervously gripping a martini glass and looking for his face. She was no doubt anxious, her mind tracking down where he could be and drawing conclusions.
He stepped out of the office and was hit with a wave of cheers from down below—a large crowd swelling and building, like an anthill out of control, climbing on chairs and tables to get a better look. He followed the curve of the crowd wondering what, or who, had their attention.
He should have known better.
dangerous ground
He avoided the crowds and moved higher, stepping into a VIP alcove three stories above the dance floor to privately watch the action below—namely, Julia and Montana, and the crowd surrounding them. The bouncers were keeping the crowd under control, the girls safe, but the surge of men made him nervous. Nervous and completely f**king turned on. Their cries, cheers, raw eagerness to get to the woman that he, in some ridiculous way, thought of as his had his c**k hard again almost instantly.
He unplugged the security cam to the space and stood at the edge, experiencing one heat-filled moment when Julia raised her head and their eyes connected. She smiled, a seductive gleam in her eyes that terrified him.
He had no idea who she was. This was a woman who had taken sweet, innocent Julia and dunked her into a sea of sex, allowing the liquid heat to swim through her blood, blaze through her eyes, and float from her skin like a strong perfume.
The woman on stage had no inhibitions, a smile illuminating her face, lust in her eyes as she leaned forward and pulled Montana’s head to hers, her hands stealing into her hair, their kiss lengthening as the two women drew closer.
He sat, his hand moving down to adjust himself, the pulsing of his thick c**k incessant, as if the f**k downstairs hadn’t satisfied it. Being around her was pure intoxication, even with a hundred feet of separation between them. His eyes glued to the pair, he watched the minx who was Julia.
She pushed gently on Montana’s chest, laying the girl back, her head lowering and trailing along her neck and down to the dip between her cleavage, her hands squeezing and pressing the br**sts around her own face. The crowd roared, and Julia sat up, her dress fully falling down, her own bare br**sts now on display for the crowd. A vibrating energy swept through the club in a physical wave.
It was too much, the crowd reaching a fever status, and he stood, reaching for his cell. Janine answered before it even completed a full ring. “Can I stop it?”
“Please,” he growled. “Get them out of there.”
He met them downstairs, in the girls’ dressing room, na**d bodies everywhere, Julia and Montana all over one another. Montana’s hand trailed up Julia’s leg, tugging her dress higher. He glowered at Montana, causing the girl to giggle.
“How much did they have to drink?” he asked Janine, his eyes locking with Julia. She bit her bottom lip, grinning at him, a grin that instantly turned every sensor in his body to full fledged arousal. He held her stare, willing his mind to come under control, barely listening when Janine responded.
“Five shots each—tequila.”
“Get me some water,” he ground out. “And have Leonard pull up the car.”
He watched her sleep, her beautiful head nodding to the side as soon as the car started its forward movement. He was grateful for her sleep, grateful that those fiery eyes were closed, and he no longer had to worry about their effect on him. Her passion electrified him, frying intelligent thought patterns and making him bend to her will. And, try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of her, on stage with Montana, out of his mind.
That was not the girl he knew—thought he knew. He didn’t really know anything about her at all. She was a complete mystery, a bundle of surprises tied together with one hell of a sexy bow. Seeing her tonight, the sexuality oozing from her, her playful eroticism on display, turning on every warm-blooded man in the club … it was wreaking havoc on his already limited self-control. She had shown, in those moments, her potential. And that thought drove him absolutely crazy.
He carried her inside, pushing the door shut with his foot, and walked into the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. Opening her suitcase, he pawed through sequins and glitter until he found a pair of worn pajama pants and a shirt. He smiled at her choice of packing, conservative over sexual. Walking back into the room, he slid the pants over her limp legs, moving briskly, trying to keep his mind in line and out of the gutter. She sat up slightly when he pulled her dress over her head, cooperating when he worked her arms into the shirt and over her head.
He said her name three times before she opened her eyes, blinking groggily at him with a slight frown on her face.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“I’d like you to drink some water. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
She swallowed, her eyes on his, blinking again as she started to wake up. Then she nodded. “Yes.”
He waited in the room, pouring her a glass of water and getting two aspirin. He set them on the dresser, unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it from his pants.
She stumbled in, eyeing him as she grabbed the water, gulping it down. He moved to help her, pulling back the covers and guiding her into bed. She rolled onto her back, looking up at him through heavy eyes.
“God, you are hot,” she mumbled, a half smile on her lips. He grinned, pulling up the covers and reaching for the light switch. The lamp extinguished, she was in partial darkness, her beauty no less devastating in the soft, shadowy light. She freed a hand from the covers, reaching out and gripping his belt, sliding her fingers under the hem of his pants and tugging him toward her. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes surveying the beautiful lines of her face.
She watched him, their eyes connecting. “You are going to be so bad for me,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly. She lifted her hand, trailing it over the muscles in his chest, running it down the ridges of his stomach. “So bad,” she whispered. Her eyes closed with a heavy sigh. “Tomorrow,” she murmured. “Tomorrow, I’ll stay away.”
He leaned over, pressing his lips softly to her forehead, listening to her breath as it evened, her hand limp as it fell to the bed. Then he straightened, watching her sleep, his eyes dark.
the parting
One evening later.
Hot night around them, he stood at her front door—weeds and dirt underfoot, the structure before him barely habitable. She unlocked the house, taking her bags from his hand and tossing them inside. She leaned against the door, blocking him from any thought of entry.
“I had fun,” she said.
Fun. Like he had taken her to Dairy Queen and a movie. He stared at her, wanting to come in, wanting more of what he had experienced with her in that shower—wanting her heat around his cock.
He stepped forward, her perfect face tilting up, looking into his eyes. He studied her, thinking about the weekend. Even though he had broken every rule he had set, had touched her in ways he shouldn’t, he didn’t regret the trip. Didn’t regret accepting her advance, spending that half hour inside of her—a half hour of f**king that could destroy everything. He didn’t regret the opportunity to know her, even if it was for only those brief moments in time.
I don’t want a damn boyfriend. I want your cock.
Had she meant it? The next few days would be the real test. Would show how much crazy lived behind those intelligent brown eyes. He leaned down, pressed his lips gently again hers. “Goodnight.”
“Night.” She gave him a small wave and a tired smile and shut the door.
He watched the white door swing, heard the loose rattle as it fully shut, and wondered how long she’d wait before calling.
The porch light went out, draping him in darkness.
Brad sat at his desk, listening to the men in front of him with half an ear. This meeting was important, a strategy session for a big case, but he couldn’t focus.
It was Wednesday, three days since he had dropped Julia off at her home in crack town. And no call, no email, no surprise drop-by in the East Wing.
It was a relief, having a detached conquest. He should be back-flipping happy. But it was too early for that. Three days was a good sign, but not long enough to put him in the clear. Give it a week, and then he would relax.
“Julia. Trust me.”
Her mouth worked, indecision in her eyes, and then she nodded.
Brad slowly rolled down her panties, his eyes feasting on her skin as it was unveiled. A thin line of hair, cut short, leading to the lips between her legs, her knees stubbornly together, resisting when he pulled them apart. And then she was before him, her eyes large, her body open. And she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She had come apart underneath his mouth, his muscles contracting, her voice breaking, legs trembling, sex throbbing underneath his tongue. It had happened quickly, her body tuned and ready, needy for stimulation that had never been given. He didn’t know what her ex-boyfriends had done with her, but they had never taken the time to care for her properly. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to stand when he was done, to step back, to go to the closet and dress. He ran his hand along the hard ridge of his cock, the ache in his balls surprising, given his morning shower. He stuffed it into pants and grinned, thinking of her moans, her peak, the way she had called his name when she came.
He walked back into the room, his eyes trailing over her body, relaxed on the sheets, a lazy smile across her face. And he wondered how he would survive two more days with her. Because f**king her wasn’t an option. Not with the roller coaster his mind was on. Not with the risks that waited for them back at the firm. She rolled slightly, her na**d body curving, and he felt his c**k harden again.
Two days.
Might as well be an eternity.
the path to hell
Twelve hours later.
If the devil had a name, it would be Alexis. She was pure sex, pure temptation, and could get him off within fifteen minutes. And now, he was going straight to hell.
It was necessary. He couldn’t be around Julia any longer, not without lying her down and taking what he really wanted. He needed a release, a distraction. Something to remind him who he was and what he liked—both things Alexis knew very well.
He hadn’t planned on seeing Alexis this trip. But Julia had challenged him, wanting to see Vegas ‘De Luca-style.’ And if a strip club experience was what she wanted, then Saffire was the place to go.
Justification was a strong tool. He knew that, knew the path his c**k was insistent on him taking. He could have brought her somewhere else—visited a girly martini bar and one of the hot clubs. But instead they were heading down the Strip, toward Saffire, his muscles tightening in anticipation. He texted Alexis, alerting her to their arrival. She would know what to do, how to distract Julia while she handled his needs. And then they could leave, his body drained, his mind free, and he could return to playing the gentleman he wasn’t.
The car slowed, rumbling over the gravel, until it came to a stop before Saffire’s red doors.
Hell. He had arrived. His c**k awoke, thickening in his pants, and he turned to smile at Julia.
He f**ked Alexis without mercy, getting his fill, but making sure she was satisfied before pulling out. She dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth and swallowing every bit of him, her eyes on his. Watching. Analyzing. The orgasm should have released his tension, lulled him into a calm and controlled state, but it didn’t work. He was still frustrated, on edge, her body not fulfilling him in the way that it normally did, his mind still wound tightly.
And Alexis picked up on it. “You’ve never f**ked me like that before.”
“Sure I have.” He zipped up his pants, avoiding her critical eyes.
“No, not that ... hungry. Is it from being around her?”
He teased one of her nipples. “You sound a little jealous.”
She slapped his hand away. “I don’t care about you enough to be jealous. I just don’t know why you’re wasting your time with that lily-white baby when we both know what you need. And it ain’t her.”
Brad watched her, the line of her muscles, the length of her hair. She was exactly like most of the women he fucked. And nothing like Julia.
Alexis was right. What he needed was a woman who knew her sexuality. Who was open and forthcoming about what she wanted and from whom she would get it. He needed a woman who thought nothing of sucking his c**k outside a restaurant, one who was confident enough to share him with another woman. That was what he—or rather, his body—needed.
His mind wanted something else entirely. Someone he could take to functions, wine and dine, engage in meaningful conversation with. Someone who would accept him despite his last name and the skeletons in his closet.
The problem was that they were colliding ideals, qualities that would never be in the same woman. And neither matched Julia. Not the sexual willingness, or the life partner. She was too pure for him, too young. She would take one look at the real Brad and take off for parts unknown.
Alexis tilted her head back and blew a ring into the dark room. “Does she know where you are right now?”
“No. I assume you told Montana to keep her busy.” That was probably going to be a problem. He would have to tell her—deception not part of this game. How she reacted would be telling. But even if she ran—even if she went crazy and cursed him to eternity—it would be better than if he had weakened and slept with her.
If he had f**ked her, laid her down and ran his c**k over her body? Pressed against her sweet pu**y and pushed deeper with his cock? Felt that hot bundle of muscles squeeze and tighten, slow thrusting inside of her until they both came? It would have been disastrous. For both of their jobs, for her innocence, and for his sanity. Better that he released his sexual tension with Alexis.
Abstinence was not a strength of his.
He stood, straightening his suit, and running a hand through his hair. Julia was probably waiting, nervously gripping a martini glass and looking for his face. She was no doubt anxious, her mind tracking down where he could be and drawing conclusions.
He stepped out of the office and was hit with a wave of cheers from down below—a large crowd swelling and building, like an anthill out of control, climbing on chairs and tables to get a better look. He followed the curve of the crowd wondering what, or who, had their attention.
He should have known better.
dangerous ground
He avoided the crowds and moved higher, stepping into a VIP alcove three stories above the dance floor to privately watch the action below—namely, Julia and Montana, and the crowd surrounding them. The bouncers were keeping the crowd under control, the girls safe, but the surge of men made him nervous. Nervous and completely f**king turned on. Their cries, cheers, raw eagerness to get to the woman that he, in some ridiculous way, thought of as his had his c**k hard again almost instantly.
He unplugged the security cam to the space and stood at the edge, experiencing one heat-filled moment when Julia raised her head and their eyes connected. She smiled, a seductive gleam in her eyes that terrified him.
He had no idea who she was. This was a woman who had taken sweet, innocent Julia and dunked her into a sea of sex, allowing the liquid heat to swim through her blood, blaze through her eyes, and float from her skin like a strong perfume.
The woman on stage had no inhibitions, a smile illuminating her face, lust in her eyes as she leaned forward and pulled Montana’s head to hers, her hands stealing into her hair, their kiss lengthening as the two women drew closer.
He sat, his hand moving down to adjust himself, the pulsing of his thick c**k incessant, as if the f**k downstairs hadn’t satisfied it. Being around her was pure intoxication, even with a hundred feet of separation between them. His eyes glued to the pair, he watched the minx who was Julia.
She pushed gently on Montana’s chest, laying the girl back, her head lowering and trailing along her neck and down to the dip between her cleavage, her hands squeezing and pressing the br**sts around her own face. The crowd roared, and Julia sat up, her dress fully falling down, her own bare br**sts now on display for the crowd. A vibrating energy swept through the club in a physical wave.
It was too much, the crowd reaching a fever status, and he stood, reaching for his cell. Janine answered before it even completed a full ring. “Can I stop it?”
“Please,” he growled. “Get them out of there.”
He met them downstairs, in the girls’ dressing room, na**d bodies everywhere, Julia and Montana all over one another. Montana’s hand trailed up Julia’s leg, tugging her dress higher. He glowered at Montana, causing the girl to giggle.
“How much did they have to drink?” he asked Janine, his eyes locking with Julia. She bit her bottom lip, grinning at him, a grin that instantly turned every sensor in his body to full fledged arousal. He held her stare, willing his mind to come under control, barely listening when Janine responded.
“Five shots each—tequila.”
“Get me some water,” he ground out. “And have Leonard pull up the car.”
He watched her sleep, her beautiful head nodding to the side as soon as the car started its forward movement. He was grateful for her sleep, grateful that those fiery eyes were closed, and he no longer had to worry about their effect on him. Her passion electrified him, frying intelligent thought patterns and making him bend to her will. And, try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of her, on stage with Montana, out of his mind.
That was not the girl he knew—thought he knew. He didn’t really know anything about her at all. She was a complete mystery, a bundle of surprises tied together with one hell of a sexy bow. Seeing her tonight, the sexuality oozing from her, her playful eroticism on display, turning on every warm-blooded man in the club … it was wreaking havoc on his already limited self-control. She had shown, in those moments, her potential. And that thought drove him absolutely crazy.
He carried her inside, pushing the door shut with his foot, and walked into the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. Opening her suitcase, he pawed through sequins and glitter until he found a pair of worn pajama pants and a shirt. He smiled at her choice of packing, conservative over sexual. Walking back into the room, he slid the pants over her limp legs, moving briskly, trying to keep his mind in line and out of the gutter. She sat up slightly when he pulled her dress over her head, cooperating when he worked her arms into the shirt and over her head.
He said her name three times before she opened her eyes, blinking groggily at him with a slight frown on her face.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“I’d like you to drink some water. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
She swallowed, her eyes on his, blinking again as she started to wake up. Then she nodded. “Yes.”
He waited in the room, pouring her a glass of water and getting two aspirin. He set them on the dresser, unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it from his pants.
She stumbled in, eyeing him as she grabbed the water, gulping it down. He moved to help her, pulling back the covers and guiding her into bed. She rolled onto her back, looking up at him through heavy eyes.
“God, you are hot,” she mumbled, a half smile on her lips. He grinned, pulling up the covers and reaching for the light switch. The lamp extinguished, she was in partial darkness, her beauty no less devastating in the soft, shadowy light. She freed a hand from the covers, reaching out and gripping his belt, sliding her fingers under the hem of his pants and tugging him toward her. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes surveying the beautiful lines of her face.
She watched him, their eyes connecting. “You are going to be so bad for me,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly. She lifted her hand, trailing it over the muscles in his chest, running it down the ridges of his stomach. “So bad,” she whispered. Her eyes closed with a heavy sigh. “Tomorrow,” she murmured. “Tomorrow, I’ll stay away.”
He leaned over, pressing his lips softly to her forehead, listening to her breath as it evened, her hand limp as it fell to the bed. Then he straightened, watching her sleep, his eyes dark.
the parting
One evening later.
Hot night around them, he stood at her front door—weeds and dirt underfoot, the structure before him barely habitable. She unlocked the house, taking her bags from his hand and tossing them inside. She leaned against the door, blocking him from any thought of entry.
“I had fun,” she said.
Fun. Like he had taken her to Dairy Queen and a movie. He stared at her, wanting to come in, wanting more of what he had experienced with her in that shower—wanting her heat around his cock.
He stepped forward, her perfect face tilting up, looking into his eyes. He studied her, thinking about the weekend. Even though he had broken every rule he had set, had touched her in ways he shouldn’t, he didn’t regret the trip. Didn’t regret accepting her advance, spending that half hour inside of her—a half hour of f**king that could destroy everything. He didn’t regret the opportunity to know her, even if it was for only those brief moments in time.
I don’t want a damn boyfriend. I want your cock.
Had she meant it? The next few days would be the real test. Would show how much crazy lived behind those intelligent brown eyes. He leaned down, pressed his lips gently again hers. “Goodnight.”
“Night.” She gave him a small wave and a tired smile and shut the door.
He watched the white door swing, heard the loose rattle as it fully shut, and wondered how long she’d wait before calling.
The porch light went out, draping him in darkness.
Brad sat at his desk, listening to the men in front of him with half an ear. This meeting was important, a strategy session for a big case, but he couldn’t focus.
It was Wednesday, three days since he had dropped Julia off at her home in crack town. And no call, no email, no surprise drop-by in the East Wing.
It was a relief, having a detached conquest. He should be back-flipping happy. But it was too early for that. Three days was a good sign, but not long enough to put him in the clear. Give it a week, and then he would relax.
