Page 7 of Second Go-Round
Jarod was a professional and knew what I looked like from the picture I’d had to send to Elite. He would find me.
Then he would make my sacrifice of gifting Jessie a night on the town totally worth it.
Thank you in advance, karma.
Chapter 4
Jarod
Thumping music and flashing lights flooded my senses exactly as I expected of the club Christine had requested I meet her at. I glanced over the mass of writhing bodies, too large to find one woman even if my height allowed me to see over quite a bit of the crowd.
Since I’d arrived a few minutes early, I moved toward the bar to get a soda water and waited for service, head and eyes in constant motion searching for the redhead I couldn’t wait to see in real life.
“What can I get ya?” The bartender’s loud voice pulled me back around.
I leaned forward. “Cranberry and soda water,” I half-yelled at the woman wearing a black brassiere, corset-type top to plump up her small breasts.
Her gaze flitted over my wide shoulders and the Henley hugging my pecs. “You got it,” she hollered back, a glint in her eyes and a smile on her purple-stained lips while she grabbed a glass.
I angled sideways, checking out the length of the long bar and the thickening group of people wanting attention and something to help get their buzz on. While I would rather down some ice-cold Grey Goose, Elite had a strict policy about liquor. It included a strict two-glass of wine or champagne limit in their employee contract. Condom use and monthly testing were also part of the deal, but getting paid for fucking made the damn rubbers worth it. Sheathing that shit also set aside concerns about knocking some woman up—a major mistake since I had zero interest in bringing any kids into the world.
My luck, they’d end up at the cancer center like Mary Rose had.
There was no trace of Christine at the bar, and I turned back to the bartender when she set my drink down in front of me. I handed a twenty over in exchange for my drink. “Keep the change.”
She offered a flirty wink. “Thanks!”
I dipped my head and moved off, heading for the stairs leading to the balcony overhead. Finding a spot by the railing, I sipped my drink and began my perusal of the mass of people humping away below me.
Pure sex in sight, sound, and flashing color, the crowded dance floor enticed even the most stoic to let loose. The swarm of bodies drew focus. Warmed blood. I’d never had issues getting hard, hadn’t once needed to pop a little blue pill to get it up for the night job, so the vibe of the club, never mind the promise of Christine, had me at half-mast, ready to go once I was given the green light.
One song morphed into another as the DJ worked his magic, the new slower beat brought a good, slow fuck to mind. Dozens of people with the same thoughts lined the floor beneath me, a handful of threesomes, hips grinding, and mouths fused, wandering hands.
Blonde, brunette, all pairings imaginable…
There.
My mouth dried, and my hand paused half-raised with my drink. Long auburn waves hung halfway down a bared, pale back. She had legs for days ending in heels no woman ought to own the way she did. An ass that could take a pounding and beg for seconds held my stare as I brought my gaze back upward. Lust instantaneously shot through my groin, and I hissed a couple of curses, heat sliding through my veins.
I placed my glass on the nearest table without taking my eyes off of the woman as my hard-on begged for freedom from the confines of my jeans.
Be Christine. Please.
Even if the woman drawing me in like a magnet wasn’t my client for the night, I planned on weaving through the crowd to dance with her anyway. I wanted her like I hadn’t wanted someone…ever.
And all I’d gotten an eyeful of was her spectacular backside.
She slowly turned, swaying with the music as I descended the stairs, my cock leading the way. Her head lifted, and our gazes met. Clashed. Christine’s big green eyes stared straight through my brain, zapping life to every cell in my body and stealing my breath. Her lips parted, and my dick bucked hard in my jeans, pulling a groan from deep in my chest.
Adrenaline rushed, painfully straining my cock against the zipper, and I swallowed a curse while striding down the stairs, desperate to lessen the space between us.
Christine smiled with a come get me suggestion in her eyes and shimmied back around, wiggling her fine ass that had my hands clenching, lusting to fill my palms with the soft flesh.
One last tread and I reached the dance floor, moving through dry-humping bodies and a cloud of perfume, aftershave, and sweat. People pressed against me as I weaved through the crowd—female and male alike—but I focused on the glimpse of red hair I kept catching ahead of me.
She turned again, and her green-eyed gaze landed on me.
Ten feet.
