Hound Cerberus 2.0 Book 2 Read online

  She writhes under my attention, gripping the sheets and coming as her hands tug at the fabric in her grasp. By the time she’s ruining the bed with her second orgasm, I’ve almost convinced myself that licking her into submission is not only the best course of action; it’s absolute bliss for me as well.

  Why I push her through a third release until she’s begging me to stop is beyond me. I’m just as confused by my reluctance as she looks, lying on the bed satiated with a flushed glow on her skin.

  Before I question myself, I’m pulling a condom from my wallet, the same one that was in there last night and releasing the buckle on my belt. I’m rolling the latex down my shaft when my phone buzzes on the dresser at my back.

  Like a bucket of ice water being tossed on me, my hands still, pausing mid-stroke of my aching cock.

  There are only two people in the world who have that number: one I’ve devoted my life to, and the other, a man I have to convince not to betray a lifelong friend.

  Blade I can possibly get to understand the sin of giving into temptation; Isabella, on the other hand, would hold it against me forever. I’ve fucked up enough in the last twenty-four hours for a lifetime.

  “Where are you going?” Gigi asks when I slide off the bed.

  “Shower,” I grunt as I pull my t-shirt off and lock myself in the bathroom.

  With rough hands, I rip the unused rubber off my dick and toss it in the trash. The cold water does nothing to cool my heated skin. I grip my cock, stroking it from base to tip, knowing if I go back out there without coming I’m only asking for trouble.

  I have no damn clue what my next step is. I don’t know much about her, but I know a couple of orgasms aren’t enough to convince her to go home and lie for me.

  “Motherfucker,” I hiss as my strokes grow harder.

  Resting my forearm against the shower wall, I hunch over, giving into the sensation in my nuts as my orgasm begins to build. I’m disgusted with myself as I paint the wall in cum to the thoughts of the young girl in my shitty hotel bed.

  I take my time drying off before pulling a clean pair of boxers from the small suitcase in the corner. I can’t focus with her in the other room. I can’t think of ways to make this work. Every idea ends exactly the same. My new job is gone, and my only other option puts me even further from Isabella, doing work I know I’ll hate.

  “Listen,” I say when I pull the bathroom door open.

  I don’t say another thing, my words caught in my throat at the sight of her half-naked body asleep on the bed.

  Relief washes over me at not having to deal with this shit tonight. Exhausted, I drop down on the other side of the bed and pray that I find some clarity, in the form of a solution, comes to me in my dreams.

  Chapter 4

  Gigi

  Waking up to the sun streaming through the threadbare curtains without a cocaine headache almost makes me want to never use again. Dancing on stage last night sober to the thoughts of my dark stranger seems to have awakened something in me, something that makes me believe that there’s a future for me after all.

  Thoughts of last night encourage me to turn my head, looking at the sleeping man on the other side of the bed. I have no hopes of a relationship with him, but I’ll be forever grateful for whatever fire he has sparked back into my life.

  As quietly as I can manage, I climb out of bed in an attempt to not wake him. As much as I enjoyed our evening together, he’s too much like my father to continue what has started between us.

  I slide my heels on, unsure of when he even took them off, and tug my bikini top back on. The walk of shame in such little clothing is going to suck, but I get naked for money and became shameless long ago. With one last look at his sleeping form, I leave him sleeping in a bed rumpled by my orgasms, and not his.

  Despair always hits me in the chest when I open the front door to my crappy apartment, and today is no different. I look at my clean but dismal surroundings. The worn sofa and scarred coffee table are the only furnishings. Only a handful of dishes fill the cabinets in the kitchen, and limited food takes up space in the small fridge. Looking at my life from a bird’s eye view, going home almost seems better, but in doing so, I allow my parents to make decisions about my life. It’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make anymore now than I was several years ago.

  My options were the military or college, neither of which interested me then, and they sure as hell aren’t on my radar now. If I live at home, those are my choices. I asked my father last year at Thanksgiving to let me work at Jake’s Bar. I’d be happy there. I know I would. My mother worked there when she and my dad got together, so I know he doesn’t have an issue with Jake. It’s the thought of his daughter working as a barmaid that leaves him less than thrilled. He forbade me, dismissed the idea in a second flat. That same night I walked away from the Cerberus MC knowing it would be my last time to walk away from it.

  “Pity party, table for one,” I mumble as I close my apartment door and kick off my heels.

  Checking the calendar for tonight’s schedule, I determine that I can nap for a couple of hours before I have to head to work. Unfortunately, I only toss and turn for what seems like an endless amount of time before my cell chirps an alert to get ready.

  I’m shocked when I arrive at work and my stranger isn’t waiting for me. Seems he got me out of his system even after his machismo act last night. Realizing I lost my virginity to a man whose name I still don’t know sends a chill down my spine. It’s reminiscent of the discomfort I felt after my first line of coke.

  “I figured Chad would’ve fired your ass,” Peaches huffs as she all but shoves me out of the way to get in front of the dimly lit vanity.

  “I guess he’s not ready to get rid of his top earner just yet,” I snip with a quick shoulder jab to regain my space in front of the mirror.

  “You’ll be back at the bottom soon enough,” Dolly says interrupting our conversation. “I’ve been here eight years. Featured more times than I can even count.”

  I huff a humorless laugh. “Seems like your good years are behind you.”

  “Hardly,” she counters.

  I cock an eyebrow at her. “Really? Your tits are nearly to your bellybutton, and you can’t even swing yourself a foot off the floor on the pole.”

  Her eyes narrow, filling with a fire I hope I have in eight years after having to do God knows what in the future to survive.

  “I have tendinitis in both elbows, you little bitch,” she sneers.

  “Get over yourself,” Peaches says in a bored tone. “You know you’ll have to hang it up sooner or later.”

  No one at this damn club has alliances. We’re all each woman for ourselves.

  Peaches fluffs her hair in the mirror, taking over the space that Dolly vacated.

  “We all will eventually,” she mutters taking stock of her own dim future.

  I sigh and step back, guilty of my own self-doubt. It’s still on my mind after I change out of my t-shirt and yoga pants and put on another gaudy, barely-there bikini. My nerves, as I stand just off the stage, are nothing like they were the first time, but they’re still there.

  I consider Vegas and the possibility of performing in some manner on Fremont Street. I have several months before I’m twenty-one and Vegas, other than the seediest parts, is known for being sticklers on the rules.

  A new girl I’ve never seen before exits the stage and I can tell by the fresh look on her face that Chad has once again hired a teenager. She’s years away from twenty-one, but that doesn’t stop him from paying her under the table until she’s of age. He does the exact same thing for me.

  The intro to Thunderstruck by AC/DC pulls me from worrying about her future and forces me out onto the stage. I have three dances on the stage tonight and then private dances if there are paying customers, which there always are. The lights seem brighter this evening, but I do my best not to squint and cover my eyes with my forearm.

  I make it through more than half of my shift
, and I hate that I’m disappointed that the guy from the last two days hasn’t shown. He heard me tell Gerardo last night that I’d be at work today.

  “You make me so hot,” I lie as I grind down on a younger looking guy in the shadowed back booth of the club.

  His hands clench on the cheap leather, unlike most guys who pay for private dances he keeps his hands to himself through the entire dance.

  “I have lots of money,” he pants against my ear as my back and ass rub against his front. “Name your price beautiful, and I’ll gladly pay it.”

  I get no less than half a dozen offers just like this a night, but tonight it stings more than usual. Forty-eight hours ago, I’d just blow it off and tell the truth that I don’t do that sort of thing. I’d give him the names of the girls that are always willing to go the extra mile for cash. Tonight, two days after I accepted cash for a quick fuck in the alley, I feel dirty. Not enough to give in, but shame hits me for the first time in over a year.

  The song ends, and I pull away from him.

  “Use it to buy your wife something nice,” I tell him with a quick look down at his left hand.

  The sparkle from his gold wedding band caught my eye more than once during the two dances he’s paid for.

  He clutches his left hand to his chest, coveting it and covering it with his right.

  Shaking his head, I’m confused to see pain in his eyes, as if I’m going to search her out and tell her about his indiscretions.

  “I’m not.” He shakes his head again, more violently than the first time. “She’s gone.”

  And I’m a huge asshole.

  I give him a sympathetic smile. “There are several girls here who work after hours.”

  “No,” he rushes out. “It has to be you. You look like her.”

  This poor sad bastard.

  “Sorry,” I tell him shrugging back into my top. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

  I try not to think about the pitiful man who’s looking for nothing more than a connection to his wife after she’s gone. It’s difficult to comprehend that type of love for myself. My parents have it. I don’t know that either one of them would survive the loss of the other, but I’m beyond certain that type of love isn’t something I’ll find in this lifetime.

  Chapter 5

  Hound

  “That slippery bitch.” I punch the empty spot beside me on the bed.

  I never sleep through someone moving around in a room. I never let my guard down. Doing so is a disaster in the making in my line of work. It rankles that a tiny, twenty-year-old girl was able to sneak out of this shitty hotel room without me knowing it.

  I can’t let it bother me for long. Getting out of this room is all I can focus on. I’ve ignored Blade’s texts and calls for two solid days, and I know the damn cavalry is coming, and there’s no way to prepare for it other than having Gigi accessible when her father arrives.

  I spend my day walking around the shitty town on the off chance that I catch her going to work, but give up after several hours and go back to the room. I’m ready to leave, whether it be to New Mexico or California. The security job in Cali is what I know I’ll end up with. There’s no way the Cerberus Prez is going to forgive a failed mission, especially one as simple as extracting his daughter from a strip club. Especially not after I fucked her.

  I shower and head to the club just as night is falling over Dallas. Even the bright outline of the Bank of America Plaza in the distance doesn’t improve my disposition. I want nothing more than to bend her over and whip her ass for the trouble she caused me, but I gave up blaming others for my actions many years ago.

  I order a whiskey the minute my ass hits the sticky chair near the back. I watch, waiting for my moment and nearly come out of my seat when I see a flash of her hair as she provides private dance services to some sad schmuck in the back. She gives the dance one hundred percent, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it. The only thing that keeps my fist from meeting that fucker’s face is the fact that he keeps his hands to himself and never attempts to touch her. Even that asshole has better control over himself than I do.

  Downing the whiskey, I wave the waitress over for another. With her here tonight, I know she’ll be the one to close down the club, the final dance on the stage. So I wait, keeping an eye on her. A glance at my watch lets me know she’ll be up there soon.

  With only a look, I’m able to force a man from his front row seat. It’s as close as I can get without being up there with her. Another whiskey. Another half-hearted dance by a girl too young to be a high school graduate. I’m disgusted at her presence on the stage, so I keep my eyes down, staring into my glass of whiskey like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

  One song fades to the next and I know, just by the musical selection that my red-headed temptress is ready to perform.

  The hard-hitting bass of Thunderstruck pounds in my ears, and it makes me wonder about her song choices. AC/DC and Def Leppard are barely within my musical range.

  I’m struck stupid when Gigi appears, once again in the smallest scraps of clothing known to man. She might as well be naked, the fabric only covering the areolas of her nipples and that tiny, glorious seam of her pussy. I instantly hate every man in this room, contemplating killing each one of them and ripping their eyes out.

  She doesn’t bother looking into the crowd. She concentrates on her moves as she rolls with incredible ease up and down the pole. Every muscle in her body is utilized during her routine. They jump, flex, and respond to her actions. So much control. So much power. My cock, just as it always does when she’s around, thickens and lengthens uncomfortably in my jeans.

  When she does finally look out over the crowd, and her eyes meet mine, all I get from her is a sweet knowing smile. I wink, hold my nearly empty glass up to her in salute, and continue to watch her performance. Her back bows deeper, her moves become even more sensuous, and her breathing more labored, which I know from watching her prior to tonight that it has everything to do with me and not exhaustion from dancing. She could dance for days without growing tired. Her body was made for it.

  I’m damn near bereft when the song ends, and she begins to gather the money on the stage, triple the amount the other girls before her earned.

  Enthralled by the delicate sway of her tits, I come out of my seat when one of the patrons reaches up and squeezes her to the point that she cries out in pain. I get two hits right in the man’s nose before he’s cognizant enough to stumble away.

  Exactly like last night, I sling her nearly naked body over my shoulder and head to the front door.

  A different man than yesterday, this one somehow managing to look even sleazier, steps in front of me and blocks my path.

  “Gerardo told me what happened last night, Annie.”

  I feel her tense across my back.

  “You know that if your boyfriends can’t handle you stripping, they’re not allowed in my club,” he continues, talking to her even though he can’t see her face.

  I don’t even attempt to stop the growl that begins low in my stomach only gaining strength as it makes its way up my chest and out of my mouth.

  “You don’t see a problem with these disgusting fuckers grabbing your dancers?”

  The asshole’s sinister laugh bubbles up, angering me even more.

  “She knows better than to step out of the green zone. She took that risk when she got greedy for the cash on the other side of the line.”

  “You’re a piece of shit,” I hiss.

  “True,” he agrees. “But I’m the piece of shit that owns this place. You’re fired, Annie. Don’t ever darken my door again.”

  “Like I would,” she mutters to the backs of my thighs.

  I carry her out, only allowing her to slide down my body once we reach my car. I buckle her in the second her ass hits the seat.

  With my nose nearly touching hers, I speak to her for the first time since last night. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last night when I pulled
your naked ass from that filthy stage?”

  I expect her to cringe, to shy away from the acrimony in my voice, but she just gives me that same sweet smile she gave me from the stage.

  “I’m a whore and a stripper. I don’t even know your name, and you think you can dictate my life? You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

  I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth so hard I expect to taste the coppery tinge of blood any second. I made her feel like a whore. That mindset is on me, and it makes my stomach turn.

  “You bled on my pierced cock which proves you’re not a whore,” I remind her. “And your stripping days are over.”

  She cocks an eyebrow, challenging me.

  I hang my head and sigh. How can I expect her to trust me, to lie for me if I give her nothing in return? “My name is Jameson Rawley.”

  She smiles wider and whispers, “Jamie.”

  “Jameson,” I correct. “Never fucking Jamie.”

  The nickname is salt in old wounds created by my father when I was a small child that apparently have never healed.

  She rolls her eyes at my insistence, but her gorgeous face still holds the smile that will live in infamy in my dreams for years to come.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asks when I climb behind the wheel.

  “Back to my hotel,” I advise as I pull out of the parking lot. “Unless you’ll be more comfortable back at your place. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Finding out where she lives would be ideal. She’s not going to like what I have to ask of her, and I know she’ll want to run again.

  “Yours is ten times better than mine,” she mutters.

  So she’s left a nice home in New Mexico to live in squalor and dance naked for money? It makes me wonder if her father and the Cerberus MC are as upstanding as they’re rumored to be. I can’t imagine a young girl wanting to leave the comfort of her childhood home without there being a reason.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask before we get on the road to my hotel.