Prologue: Vorn
What. The. Fuck?
I didn’t hire her to strip, so why the hell was she on stage? She was supposed to be on the floor waiting tables.
Not that I minded the view.
But any other fucking assholes? Yeah, I minded.
I took a seat right in front and leaned back, crossing my arms and never taking my eyes off April. I could tell she was nervous, with her shoulders slightly hunched when she started to sway to the music. As the seconds ticked by, she seemed to get more relaxed, losing herself in the rhythm. Her eyes shifted and met mine, and we got lost in the moment.
When her fingers finally went for the buttons of her shirt, entranced, I couldn’t look away. Then again, she’d always entranced me. Even when we’d first met all those years ago.
I still couldn’t believe she’d shown up after all this time.
And she still wanted me.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what was on her mind when we spent time together. The laughing, the smiles, the flirty words, and the looks—she was still attracted to me. Sure, I looked good when we’d first met, and I still fucking looked good fifteen years later. Even better—aged well, some would say.
Her shirt fell to the floor, revealing a black bra, and she kept moving, swaying more provocatively than before. The more skin she bared, the more the rest of the world faded around me. Her body was fucking gorgeous, with full breasts and wide hips, just begging for hands to grab.
She descended the steps of the stage, sauntering toward me with unwavering determination. Her lace bra left nothing to the imagination. I guessed that was the fucking point. But on her, it was different. She was different.
I didn’t expect her to straddle my lap. Not that I’d ever complain. Her bold move was fucking surprising. The way she writhed and gyrated against me was hypnotizing. The way it made me feel should be illegal. My dick twitched when she rubbed herself against me. It was against the rules. Rules I’d put in place for a reason and made a point to follow.
Being this close, feeling the heat of her body and her firm thighs pressed against mine, I let my mind wander to all the things I’d do to her.
Even though she’d been a virgin when we met, I doubted she was now. How could she be? How could somebody that fucking effortlessly sexy not have been touched? It’d be a fucking crime. A woman like that deserved to be worshipped, to be tasted, and taken so good she couldn’t walk the next day.
In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but fantasize about her being untouched, ready and waiting for me.
It was a longshot, a pipe dream that was stupid as shit to even think about. I was supposed to be her first. After fifteen years, though, there was no fucking way she was still a virgin. But, I couldn’t stop my raging thoughts. I wanted to be the one to touch her, to taste her for the first time. I wanted to be the one to hold her and bring her pleasure beyond anything she could ever imagine.
Seeing her dance brought out the possessive streak in me. The thought of her being with another man drove me fucking crazy, and I’d do anything to make sure nobody saw her this way: half-naked and begging to be claimed.
I made the rules. I could easily break them.
And deep down, I knew I would.
I would be her man.
I’d make her realize that nobody could bring her ecstasy like I would.
She was going to be mine.
April
Two Days Earlier
It was a disgustingly hot morning. That was the first thing I noticed when my alarm went off, the melodic beeping doing nothing to urge me out of bed. The only thing that worked was the way my blankets unpleasantly stuck to me. It wasn’t even June yet, and I already felt like I was melting.
With a groan, I rolled out of bed, kicking away the sheets in my attempt to stand. Sun was already shining through my window, which only added to the heat. I slammed the window closed, yanking the blinds shut before bending down to check on my air-conditioner. After snatching off the protective cover, I plugged it in and turned the dial.
It took a second for it to kick on, but once it did, cold air flooded my room. With a contented sigh, I sat in front of it, eyes closed. I probably should have been getting ready for work, but I wasn’t in a hurry. The idea of rushing to get ready, only to sit for eight long hours behind a desk wasn’t exactly appealing. Which was sad, considering I’d worked my entire life to get where I was now.
For as long as I could remember, I’d wanted nothing more than to be a reporter. Well, that and a mother. But given my super-single status, that wasn’t on the horizon anytime soon.
I remembered being younger and seeing all those dramatic movies where the person stopped at nothing to get the story. I couldn’t help but picture myself doing the exact same thing. My mother said it was because I’d been extremely nosy and needed to know everybody’s business.
I mean, she wasn’t wrong. I remembered walking around with a small notepad, writing down what I saw people doing and asking them questions until they got annoyed and sent me away.
But I liked to think it was more than that. Honestly, what I really wanted to do was tell the truth, to share what was really going on in the world. Not in front of a camera or anything. God no. The idea of being the center of attention gave me heart palpitations. I wanted to write, to be the lead reporter for a newspaper or magazine with a solid reputation.
Instead, I was a staff writer for an online news outlet called Underground NYC. Not that I was deterred. I knew it would take a lot of hard work to get where I wanted to be. In a world of digital click-bait articles, sensationalized or fake BS headlines and listicles, it made it tougher to do. Everything was about getting the most likes, shares, or clicks, and unfortunately, in this day and age, hard-hitting news stories had a shit-ton of competition.
I needed to write something big to get noticed.
Thankfully, I had something up my sleeve. Something I’d been researching and planning for months.
It still had to get approved by my boss before I could really move forward, but I hoped my meeting with him later this morning would make that happen.
The thought alone was enough to get my butt moving.
I quickly headed to the bathroom, turned on the shower, not even bothered that there was barely any hot water left (and I usually was because it was a pain in the ass). Not when my apartment was already sweltering. After tugging off my baggy sleep shirt, I studied my reflection in the small mirror above the sink. My long brown hair was tangled from sleep, and I took a few minutes to try and run my fingers through the knots. I always wished my hair had a little body to it, but it was too straight to really do much with, so I usually kept it down or in a tight bun.
My body, though, I was particularly proud of, not gonna lie. I’d always been curvy, and yes, it had taken me a long time to be comfortable with my hourglass shape. The key was not giving a damn about what other people thought. And also finding the right clothes to highlight your assets. The “not giving a damn” part had taken a lot longer to master, because who the fuck cared? We were all gonna die anyway, but I was much happier after I’d found my self-assurance. And not because of what society deemed appropriate—I learned to love me, love myself for who I was. I’d also come to realize that guys loved confident girls. It was a win-win in my book.