Part 2 (1/2)

”Don't,” he growls. ”Now answer my d.a.m.n question!”

”My man was shot in the head right in front of my f.u.c.king eyes! Are you happy now?”

As I guess, it doesn't shock him. I hear no gasp of breath. Why? Because this is his d.a.m.n world. He's used to hearing s.h.i.+t like this. His large hand goes to my chest and he pushes me back on the bed, laying me flat on my back. Seriously, what is with this dude?

”Don't move,” he says sternly.

I go to cross my arms, and he repeats himself more angrily than the first time. So I lay them back beside my body and remain motionless. I feel something falling along the top of my left breast. What the h.e.l.l? I feel his body hover over me as he snorts.

”Did you just snort c.o.ke off of my t.i.t?”

”It's my birthday.” He chuckles as if it makes it better.

Unbelievable!

”Your turn,” he says as something cold hits my nose.

”No!”

”C'mon baby, just one,” he growls huskily.

Dammit. Why am I here again? Oh yes, my best friend wants a piece of this action. This lifestyle.

”One Braxxon and I mean it,” I scold.

”Snort.” He smacks at my b.o.o.b playfully.

I want to yell just touch me. Again, I don't know what he looks like. I'm here for a job and yet I'm naked in the president's d.a.m.n bed. So I do as ordered. The c.o.ke flies up my nose, and I jump up. That wasn't one line; that was more like three. That was no small b.u.mp.

”You a.s.shole! I don't do this s.h.i.+t all the time. Just great,” I scream, turning around and flinging off the blindfold.

Before I can turn back around and face him, the lights go off.

”Seriously, are you so d.a.m.n ugly that no female can see you?”

”You wanna see me baby?” He teases. His voice. Oh, I want to see the person that belongs to that voice.

”Yes, I don't really like prancing around naked in a bedroom for someone I can't see.”

”Answer a few questions for me and I'll strip for you.”

Now I'm intrigued. Someone strip for a stripper. Oh, this is priceless. I can play this game.

”Okay,” I say almost too happily.

”I want your real name. Not your d.a.m.n stripper name. Your real one, Angel.”

”Winter, but you ain't getting my last name, so there's no need to try.”

I can feel him before I can smell him. He smells delicious. Cologne mixed with man. A real man. I want to see him so badly that I can taste it. I lick my lips, and he groans. His breath is on my forehead as his cut slides up my arms. His cut feels heavy. I can smell the leather too.

”Isn't this like a rule or something? No one wears your cut, but you,” I mumble. I'm surprised my voice doesn't squeak; he's starting to put me off just a tad.

”I want to see an Angel in leather. I'm improvising. Close your eyes.”

I feel the blindfold wrap around my head again. Seriously? Now I'm starting to freak out. He must be something ugly or worse.

”Oh yeah,” I tease. ”How does it look?” I know my voice comes out shaky because my nerves are shot to h.e.l.l. I hear the light switch, and I know the room is bright again.

”Like heaven mixed with h.e.l.l.”

I gulp. This guy is trouble that I don't need.

”How old are you?”

I want to reply back with the same question, only I know it's his birthday, and he just turned thirty, so instead of giving him my age I just smart off.

”Too young for you.”

He growls, and I take that as my cue that I need to give him an answer.

”Eight years younger than you.”

”Twenty-two.” He chuckles.

Something hits the floor, and I'm a.s.suming it's his s.h.i.+rt.

”You know, when you're stripping, you're supposed to let the other person see,” I huff.

He doesn't answer; he just asks me my next question. ”Are your eyes really gold?”

I get this one a lot; it's not a personal question, so it doesn't bother me to answer it truthfully.

”Yes, they're really gold. Technically, they're just a bright brown but whatever.”

I hear a belt buckle, then a zipper followed by the sound of him shuffling out of his pants. Oh, I wish I could see him, but this is his game. His birthday. I'm almost too distracted by my new high from the powder that is running through my body.

”Real t.i.ts or are they fake?”

This one should offend me too, but they're large and perky so I can see why he would ask that.

”What do you-?” Startled by his touch, my words are lost. His thumbs caress my nipples as his hands cup my b.o.o.bs. All too soon, his magnificent hands are gone.

”Real,” he whispers into my ear.

My breath catches in my throat as his hands move to the globes of my behind. I s.h.i.+ver. This is almost too much.

”Why the fascination with me?” I breathe.

”I've never seen something so d.a.m.n s.e.xy that looked like an Angel,” he murmurs in my other ear as his teeth graze my lobe. Something cold and hard is on his lip. Please be a lip piercing, please.