Body Shot (Tapped Out) Read Online Free Page A

stairs, adding one more layer to the lascivious atmosphere. It was the kind of place eighteen-year-old me wouldn’t have dreamed stepping into. Back then I’d been into flowers, and a girl who giggled when I pinned daisies in her hair. Who lifted her face up to mine for a chaste kiss without closing her eyes.
    A girl way too much like Carly for comfort. And goddammit, I wouldn’t watch Carly be destructed in the same manner. I wouldn’t allow her to be tainted by her want for me like Emilia had been.
    I walked down the long hallway that overlooked the first floor. The vantage gave a bird’s eye view of the women tangled together onstage. One of them had stripped down to a G-string, and her oiled body shimmied against the other woman’s with enough eagerness to make the crowd cheer.
    Swallowing my distaste, I turned away and pushed open the door to VIP room number three.
    This wasn’t my scene. Had never been my scene. That boy who liked flowers still lived inside me, and he was horrified at the man I’d become. The man I’d willfully molded myself into. But Emilia was worth everything.
    It wasn’t revenge if you were just evening the score.
    Thankfully the room was empty, though it wouldn’t have stopped me if it wasn’t. I would’ve paid the occupants to let me share the space with them. If it worked to send Carly running, it was worth it. And hell, my dick was hard. I was human. A pretty strawberry-blonde rubbing all over me with lust in her eyes was enough to get me going just like any other man. This particular strawberry-blonde affected me in ways I had to put a stop to.
    This should do it.
    Leaving the door cracked, I walked inside. Sconces on the wall offered scant light. A long leather sectional curved along one side of the room, offset with glass-topped tables with flickering candles. Across the space sat a daybed, made with plump pillows that no one would notice. This room was used for not-so-discreet fucks or variations thereof, and no one cared about ambience.
    That ridiculous boy inside me would scoff at that, just as he felt disgust at all the rest.
    I sat at one end of the sectional and spread my arms along the back just like I spread my legs. I’d been in this room before, for meetings and more. I wasn’t a saint. No longer a saint anyway. In my current milieu, the more tarnish, the better.
    The waitress from downstairs slipped into the room and knelt between my knees. I cast a glance at the door, wanting to make sure I wasn’t doing this for nothing. Knowing full well she would follow, because she’d followed me from Brooklyn to Hell’s Kitchen. She wouldn’t go home unless she didn’t have any other choice.
    She wasn’t there.
    A part of me was relieved. Grateful even. I didn’t want her to see this. She shouldn’t be touched by any of it. But she wanted to suck down any experiences she could, and if she got a nasty enough gulp tonight, maybe she wouldn’t return.
    I’d staked my hopes on bets with worse odds.
    On the off chance Carly was still out there just beyond the scope of my vision, I gestured to the zipper barely containing my bulging cock, playing the king routine to full effect.
    “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked, low enough that Carly or any voyeuristic types couldn’t hear. This moment would be just for us. A moment to smooth over what I could barely stomach.
    Women weren’t meant to be used. Especially ones with sad dark eyes.
    “Brenda,” the waitress whispered, appearing almost taken aback by the question.
    “May I call you Bren?”
    She nodded, her lips trembling open around her assent. “Sure.”
    “Bren, please take me out now.”
    She didn’t have to be asked twice. Eagerly, she fumbled my dick out of my jeans, her sexy, practiced smile covering her instant of surprise and insecurity. She probably wouldn’t enjoy this any more than I would, but we both knew how to play the game.
    It was all I had left.

3
    Carly
    N ausea coated my throat . I