Home > Lover Unbound (Black Dagger Brotherhood #5)(79)

Lover Unbound (Black Dagger Brotherhood #5)(79)
Author: J.R. Ward

Try anyone. "Yeah."

"Well, I'm going to take good care of you." She stepped in close to him, and her big br**sts pressed into his belly. He glanced down at her head. She had dark roots that showed on top.

"You're a big one," she murmured, tucking one hand into his waistband and tugging him forward.

He went with her with the grace of a robot, all numbed out and unable to believe he was going to do this. But really, how else was it going to happen?

She backed up against the sink and in a quick, practiced hop got herself up on the counter. As she spread her legs, her skirt rose. Her black thigh-highs were topped with lace. She wasn't wearing panties.

"No kissing, of course," she murmured, dragging his fly down. "On the mouth, that is."

He felt cool air slip inside then her hand went into his boxers. He flinched as she took hold of his cock.

This was what he came here for, he reminded himself. This was what he'd bought and paid for. He could do this.

It was time to move on. From Bella. From the celibacy.

"Relax, lover," the woman said in a raspy voice. "Your wife is never going to know. My lipstick is eighteen-hour smudge-proof, and I don't wear perfume. So you can just enjoy yourself."

Phury swallowed. I can do this.

As John got out of the dark blue BMW, he was sporting a spanking-new pair of black trousers, a black silk shirt, and a cream suede jacket built on the lines of a blazer. They weren't his clothes. Like the car that had driven both him and Qhuinn downtown, they were Blay's.

"We are so ready for this," Qhuinn said as they walked across the parking lot.

John glanced back at the place where he'd taken out those lessers. He remembered the power he'd felt, the conviction that he was a fighter, a warrior... a Brother. That was all gone now, as if something else had been at work inside of him then, like he'd been possessed or something. As he walked with his friends now, he felt like a whole lot of nothing special duded up in his buddy's fancy threads, his body a bag of water, sloshing around with every step he took.

When they came up to ZeroSum, John headed for the back of the wait line, but Qhuinn spun him to a halt. "We got an in, remember?"

They sure as hell did. The minute Qhuinn dropped the name Xhex, the piece of mountain at the door snapped to attention and spoke into his earpiece. A split second later he stepped aside. "She wants you in the back. VIP. You know the way?"

"Yeah. Sure," Qhuinn said as he slipped the guy a handshake.

The bouncer put something in his pocket. "You come here again, I'll let you right in."

"Thanks, man." Qhuinn clapped the guy on the shoulder and disappeared into the club, smooth as anything.

John followed, not even trying to pull off Qhuinn's swagger. Which was a good thing. As he headed in through the door, he hit the step up wrong, listed to port, then fell backward as he fought to stay upright, slamming into a guy in the wait line. The man, who had his back to the door because he was hitting on a chick, wheeled around, all pissed off.

"What the f - " The guy froze as he looked at John, his eyes popping. "Ah, yeah... my bad. Sorry."

John faltered at the reaction until he felt Blay's hand land on the back of his neck. "Come on, John. Let's go."

John let himself get led inside, bracing for the onslaught of the club's vibe, ready to get lost in the crush of people. It was funny, though. As he looked around, everything seemed less overwhelming. Then again, he was measuring the crowd from a vantage point of about six-foot-seven.

Qhuinn looked around. "To the back. Where the hell is the back?"

"I thought you knew?" Blay said.

"Nah. Just didn't want to come off as an idiot - Wait, I think we have a winner." He nodded to a roped-off area that had two huge guys standing in front of it. "That just screams VIP. Ladies, shall we?"

Qhuinn walked over like he knew exactly what he was doing, said two words to the bouncer, and whaddaya know, the rope was down and the three of them were parading in.

Well, Blay and Qhuinn were parading. John was trying not to run into anyone else. He'd lucked out that the guy at the door had been some kind of pansy. Next time he'd probably manage to land on a hit man. Who was armed.

The VIP section had its own private bar and bartenders, and its waitresses were dressed like high-class strippers, showing a lot of skin as they went around on a lot of heel. The male patrons were all in suits, the women in expensive bits of nothing much. It was a fast, flashy crowd... that made John feel like a total poser.

There were banquettes on both sides of the room, three of which were open, and Qhuinn picked the one farthest back, in the corner.

"This is the best," he pronounced. "Next to the emergency exit. In the shadows."

There were two martini glasses on the tabletop, but they sat down anyway, and a waitress came over to clear. Blay and Qhuinn ordered beers. John passed, thinking he needed to stay tight tonight.

They'd been chilling for no less than five minutes, Blay and Qhuinn barely getting a start on their Coronas, when they heard a female voice say, "Hey, daddies."

All three of them looked up at the blond Wonder Woman standing in front of them. She was a knockout in a very Pam Anderson kind of way, more breast than anything else.

"Hey, baby," Qhuinn drawled. "What's your name?"

"I'm Sweet Charity." She put both hands on the table and leaned in, flashing her perfect chest and her tanning-salon skin and her gleaming, bleached teeth. "Want to know why?"

"Like I want my next breath."

She bent down a little farther. "Because I taste good and I'm a giver."

Qhuinn's tight smile was all about sex. "Then come over and sit by me - "

"Boys," came a deep voice.

Oh, Jesus. A huge guy had come up to their table, and John didn't think it was a good thing. With a beautiful black suit and a pair of hard amethyst eyes and a cropped mohawk, he looked like both a thug and a gentleman.

Okay, that was a vampire, John thought. He wasn't sure exactly how he knew, but he was sure of it and not just because of the size thing. The guy just gave off the same vibe as the Brothers did: power in check on a hair trigger.

"Charity, you mine elsewhere, feel me?" the male said.

The blonde seemed a little bummed as she pulled back from Qhuinn - who was looking pissed. Except then she trotted off and... well, shit, pulled the same routine two banquettes down.

As Qhuinn's expression lost some of its edge, the mohawked male bent down and said, "Yeah, she wasn't just after the pleasure of your company, big man. She's a pro. Most of the women you see walking around in this section are. So unless you want to pay for it, go out to the open-access area, pick up a few, and bring them back here, deal?" The guy smiled, flashing a tremendous set of fangs. "By the way, I own this place, so while you're here I'm responsible for your asses. Make my job easy and keep righteous." Before he turned away, he looked at John. "Zsadist said to say hello."

He left on that note, checking out everything and everybody on his way to an unmarked door in the back.

John wondered how the guy knew Z, and figured that no matter the connection, that mohawked brass-baller was definitely someone you wanted on your side.

Otherwise you might want to pick up a Kevlar bodysuit.

Or better yet, leave the country.

"Well," Qhuinn said, "that's an important tip. Shit."

"Um, yeah." Blay shifted in his seat as another blonde strolled by. "So... um, you want to head out to the floor?"

"Blay, you little slut." Qhuinn hustled out of the banquette. "Of course I do. John - "

I'm going to hang here, he signed. You know, save our table.

Qhuinn clapped him on the shoulder. "Fine. We'll bring something back from the buffet for you."

John frantically shook his head, but his buddies just turned away. Oh, God. He should have stayed home. He so should have skipped this.

As a brunette waltzed by he glanced down quickly, but she didn't stop, and neither did any of the others - like the owner had told all the women to leave them alone. Which was a relief. Because that brunette? Looked like she could eat a man alive, and not necessarily in a good way.

Crossing his arms over his chest, John leaned back in the leather seat and kept his eyes on the beers. He could feel people staring at him... and no doubt they were wondering what the hell he was doing here. Which made sense. He wasn't like Blay and Qhuinn and couldn't front like he was. All the music and the drinking and the sex didn't energize him; they made him want to disappear.

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