Page 25 of Bourbon Deceit
“I like to think so,” I responded, not really sure where any of this was going.
He looked down at his hands and said, “Friday you are going to be exposed to a group of people who take what they want, when they want it, and have zero regard for anyone around them. They are fake and have the ability to tear apart the most innocent of hearts.” He looked up at me when he said “innocent,” indicating he was talking about me.
“I’m far from innocent,” I responded out of instinct.
“You’re innocent in this world, despite your past, you’re so fucking innocent.” Jett shook his head again. He looked like he was in immense pain over having to bring me to his party. I didn’t get it.
“Okay, I guess I don’t understand. Why is this so difficult for you?”
“Because,” he shot off real quick, running his hands through his hair. His chest heaved as he looked up at me and spoke in a calmer tone. “Because I’m exposing you, Goldie. These people are part of a secret society where business is conducted under the table and million-dollar deals are solidified with a hand shake. This isn’t a fucking walk-in-the-park kind of event. I have to be on point for every fucking second I’m there and if forone minuteI drop my façade, I won’t just lose credibility; I’ll be eaten alive.”
“And you’re worried that I’ll distract you?”
“No, I’m worried that I’ll be too busy trying to protect you.”
This whole conversation just seemed so dramatic. It was a stupid social. It wasn’t like we were going to a mafia party where the Bloods and the Crips were the party honorees. I was pretty sure I could handle some prissy-ass debutantes and over-compensating men.
I leaned back on the bed, letting the blanket slip dangerously low, like nipples-are-about-to-have-a-party low, and pressed my hands behind my head. “Pretty sure I can handle myself, Jett. Thanks for the concern though.”
His eyes were no longer looking at me, no, they were eye-fucking my tits as my chest heaved from his glare. His hand ran up my body, past my stomach and to the edge of my blankets. Just when I thought he was actually going to cover me up, he ripped the blankets off, exposing my naked body.
Without missing a beat, he yanked my ankles down so I was lying flat on the bed and he was straddling my body. He looked me right in the eyes and said, “Say it.”
I could not deny this man anything so I licked my lips and said, “I’m here to submit to you.”
His lips were on mine, faster than I could blink. He placed both his hands on either side of my head and hovered right above me, not applying too much pressure but just enough to drive me fucking ape-shit crazy.
The expensive fabric of his clothes rubbed against my bare skin, sending tingles of excitement through my veins. I knew what was under those clothes and I wanted it . . . badly.
His lips still continued to move across mine as he lowered down to his elbows and started to caress my face with his thumbs. Slowly, he pulled away and looked into my fucking soul.
“I can’t have anything happening to you, little one.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise.”
“You don’t belong in that world, with those people.”
Ouch, that stung a little. I tried to chalk it up to the fact that he meant they were manipulative asshats, but there was a little voice in the back of my mind that kept repeating Jett’s words over and over in my head: I had no class. I tried to convince myself that his conversation with me was true, that he wanted to protect me, and it wasn’t him trying to come up with a different reason as to why he didn’t want me at his parties.
Instead of responding, I just nodded, even though my heart was feeling a little salty. My body was begging for Jett’s touch so I pushed back the pain in my heart and got lost in the feel of Jett’s breath against my neck and the way his strong body made me feel protected.
“Come with me,” Jett said as he started to get up.
The abrupt change in his demeanor startled me. He went from kind and caring, wanting to make sure that I was going to be okay, to domineering Jett, the Jett who wanted to fuck me every which way till Monday and at that moment, for the first time since I’d been at the Lafayette Club, I didn’t want to go to the Bourbon Room. I didn’t want to play, I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel the man who just left the conversation, I wanted to feel the protective and sensitive Jett, not the playtime Jett.
He tried to pull me off the bed but I sat up and hugged my knees. The look of concern that flashed across his face was endearing. Once again, the split personalities of the man looking down at me could be so confusing.
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t want to go up there tonight.”
His jaw twitched as he thought about what I’d said. I could see him waver between his dominant self, his natural sexual being, and trying to be a nice guy. I knew how the game was played, when I submitted I didn’t really get a say unless I gave him the safe word, but I wasn’t ready to cry alligator yet, I wanted to see if he would adjust to my needs.
“This is not up for negotiation, Lo,” he responded, using my Jett Girl name. He was going with the dominant man, which was disappointing, especially after everything we’d discussed tonight. I wasn’t giving in, not this time.
I sat up, put on my big girl pants, and said, “Alligator.”
The room fell silent as utter defeat crossed his features. He turned his back to me and ran his hands through his hair. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I contemplated what I’d just done, what I’d just said to him. The tension in the room grew thick as I tried to think of what to say, what to do, how to ease the strain between us that I’d created with that one little word.
