Big Brother Billionaire (Part Two) Page 5

  “I’ll figure something out,” Ron said, patting my thigh gently. I hadn’t noticed until now how close we’d gotten to each other, our bodies basically pressed next to each other, side by side. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve nestled my head beneath his chin. I flushed at the notion, even though, in this very stall, I’d rubbed my breasts all over another customer’s face without so much as batting an eyelash. What continued to be so different about this encounter? I was incapable of wearing my Parker mask. What was more—I didn’t want to. Ron had demonstrated such a commitment in getting to know me that I was comfortable with him seeing me as my real self.

  The fact that he was gorgeous and had money to spare to pay me for conversation…well, those were just added bonuses.

  “One thing though,” I said, smiling and leaning extra close.

  Ron looked surprised at my forwardness but gamely smiled back. “Shoot.”

  “No more paying me for answers,” I said. “I think I’ve picked your pocket enough tonight. When we’re outside of the club, I’m completely off the clock.”

  “Understood,” Ron said, and then he sneaked a light little kiss on my cheek, making me giggle like a schoolgirl.

  “My shift ends in just a few minutes,” I said. “Just give me a little time to change.”

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said, standing before offering me a hand up. “You’ll know me from my ride, a motorcycle.”

  I walked lighter than usual, feeling like I was floating, toward the dressing room. There was a sudden grip around my wrist, and I whirled around, fully expecting Ron to be right behind me, eager to tell me something else about his incredible life or about what we were going to be doing as soon as we got away from this place, but I was unpleasantly surprised by my leering boss, Jake.

  “Parker, darling, let me talk to you a second.” He more or less yanked me into his dank little office, his fingers tight enough around my wrist to hurt. I didn’t have to play my persona to scowl; I was doing that all on my own.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I asked, raising my eyebrows and unceremoniously extricating myself from his grip.

  “I just want to say, what you’ve got going for you, your whole shtick, it’s fucking fantastic,” he said, clapping his hands with nearly every syllable. “Your body is on point, and your dance moves go with everything. There isn’t a man in this club who wouldn’t fuck you, present company included.”

  Discomfort crept up my spine. Jake could be direct, but it wasn’t like him to be this forward.

  “Thanks,” I said, hating the uncertainty in my voice. My persona wouldn’t go for that. She was always sure of herself, and right now, I was damn sure that there was something wrong with this situation.

  “I just thought I’d let you in on a little advice—unsolicited, of course,” he said, laughing jovially, clapping his hands all the while. I wondered if I was expected to continue the round of applause with him, but I really didn’t see a reason for the ovation he was giving the room. He only paused in his clapping to fidget, plucking at a pearly button on his shirt and wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead.

  His pupils were wide, dilated so that they almost ate up the colored parts of his eyes—and that’s when I realized I was seeing the Jake who had just ingested God only knew how much cocaine.

  “I keep seeing that customer come in here, the one who wears his hair in a bun like some grandmother,” my boss said, snorting.

  “His name’s Ron,” I said before I could think better of it.

  “Ron,” Jake purred, rolling the “R” for an unnecessary amount of time. “Well, darling Parker, herein lies my advice. Nothing good ever comes of a dancer dating a customer. Remember that.”

  I swallowed hard. “Is there a company policy against it?” Ron had awoken something inside of me that I needed. I couldn’t turn my back on it now that I knew it was there. If I ever wanted to get over Marcus, if I ever wanted to have some semblance of a normal life, I needed Ron in it. I needed to know that I could feel as attracted to someone as he was to me. I needed that hope for the future.

  Jake threw his head back and guffawed. “Company policy?” he cried so loudly that I was afraid the rest of the club would hear him over the music. “This isn’t some law firm, darling! I’m just giving you some free advice. You can take it or leave it.”

  I left it right there in the office, turning on my heel and walking away from Jake’s twitches and claps. I remembered another piece of advice I’d gotten from someone I respected a lot more than Jake. Sally had told me to watch out for our boss whenever he was high, that he lied. What reason would he have for lying to me about Ron though? Did he know my mysterious admirer? Or was he just being vindictive, seeking to squash out a blossom of happiness from someone if he wasn’t getting any himself?

  I didn’t have much time to puzzle over my employer’s strange behavior. My shift was over, and I had to get into something presentable for Ron. My heart fluttered at the thought. All notions of apprehension were tossed away the farther I got away from Jake. It dazzled me that I could meet someone as wonderful as Ron right here where I made my living. Everything was happening so fast, and I felt amazingly lucky to be a part of it, a witness to my own good luck for once. I’d been failing and scrambling just to get by for far too long. It meant everything to me to have things go right this time.

  I peeled off my latex jumpsuit and pulled on the clothes I’d come to work in, dark, wide-leg trousers and a plunging silk tank top, also dark. Starting off and really embracing my Parker persona had been a pain, at first, especially with the new dress code requirements I imposed on myself. There were some days when I woke up and I wished I could just show up to the club for work in jean shorts or pajama bottoms, as many of my fellow dancers did.

  However, they all probably felt really foolish if they ever wanted to do something after their shifts ended at the club, and the only choices they had to wear were flannels and costumes. With my Parker dress code, I was prepared for any situation at all times, as long as it could be dealt with while looking fabulous.

  Ron was waiting for me outside of the club after I left, just like he said he would be. When I trotted outside, jittery with nerves and excitement, part of me fully expected him to have not waited for me. It would make some sort of sense to me. I mean, I was just a dancer at a club, and he was this amazing human being. Maybe he was only being nice to me while I was giving him a private dance, boosting my self-esteem to make me believe I deserved something more than all of this.

  But then, he rolled up, astride the motorcycle he told me about, the one that would make me feel things I’d never felt before while commuting across the city. “Hey, you,” he said, grinning at me. I couldn’t help but smile back—my persona’s no-smiling rule be damned. When a man as special as Ron smiled at me, I had to smile back. He’d made such an incredible effort to see me all of these days. He deserved a little something in return, especially since I was so flush in all of the cash he’d showered on me.

  “Hey, yourself,” I said, eyeing the rumbling machine between his legs. “I guess I’m glad I wore pants today.”

  “You’d have been fine in that latex number you were wearing,” he said. “Why’d you change?”

  “Wouldn’t you be embarrassed to be seen with me dressed like that?” I asked.

  “Listen to me,” he said, taking my chin in between his thumb and pointer finger with a quiet intensity. “You are gorgeous, and I would ride this motorcycle through all of Miami with you on it in whatever you deigned to wear, proud as punch to even be seen with you. You understand?”

  “Okay,” I said, a little frightened by the way his eyes glowed in the parking lot lights, the way he was so passionate when talking about me. I couldn’t help but draw another comparison with Marcus. Marcus had never been like this. I thought we’d both been all consumed with our love for each other, but more and more, I was realizing that what we’d had was only puppy love. This thing building betwee
n Ron and I…I could feel that it was going to be bigger and much more meaningful than anything that my stepbrother and I could’ve shared. For one, there was the relief that whatever relationship Ron and I were going to have together, it was going to be completely on the right side of morality. Even with my mom out of the picture at this point, I was at ease in knowing that my own beliefs would never be under fire by being with this man.

  I felt so unbearably attracted to Ron that part of me just wanted to go find a dark alley and relieve some of the tension with him, pressed up against a brick wall. It had been long—far too long—since I’d enjoyed any sort of intimacy with anyone, and the last person I’d enjoyed such a time with had been my stepbrother. I was eager to wash away the memory of Marcus with new experiences, new feelings.

  “Well, baby?” Ron remarked, patting the seat that extended behind him. “You going to get on or what?”

  He hadn’t finished his sentence before I was kicking a leg over the motorcycle, settling in against his body. We were now even closer than we’d been in the private dance area. I pressed my torso against his back, and I was thrilled over the sensation of the vibrating motorcycle between my legs. I knew exactly what Ron had been talking about now, how I’d feel things I’d never felt before, riding on a motorcycle through Miami. I was already feeling things, just idling here in the club’s parking lot.

  “Where to?” he asked me, shouting as he revved the engine, sending curls of pleasure up into my belly. Back to Los Angeles, I wanted to say, or the very tip of South America. Where was the farthest place we could go, a place I wouldn’t mind ending up as long as I stayed astride this vehicle of pleasure?

  “Anywhere you want,” I said, and we shot off into the night.

  Chapter 4

  My Parker,

  I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’ve done to drive you away from me. Maybe there just wasn’t enough time for us to love each other. Maybe I wasn’t around enough.

  Even after what was said, I still loved seeing you. You’ve always been so beautiful, and I know that the more time that passes, the more gorgeous you become. I’m not trying to flatter you. It’s the truth.

  I don’t know at what point the parents’ poison worked its magic on your feelings for me. There’s nothing wrong with what we have together. I don’t feel that way, and you shouldn’t either. Don’t listen to what anyone says about us. I know how I feel, and you know how you feel.

  If you want time apart, I’ll give it to you. If you want to see other people, then do it. Know that I’ll just keep loving you and keep writing letters to you whether you read them or not. I’m in the habit of writing letters to you.

  I’m in the habit of loving you, Parker, and habits are hard for me to break.

  At first, and for a long time, life with Ron was everything I’d hoped living with another human being I cared about would be. I dared to believe I’d finally found the happiness I imagined for Marcus and I when we finally shrugged off the yoke of judgment our parents had placed around our shoulders and moved on to start a life of our own.

  I was beginning to suspect that life didn’t have to turn out the way I expected. For instance, I never thought that I’d want to be with anyone other than Marcus, and here I was, craving Ron every second of every day.

  He was like a drug I couldn’t get a handle on, an addiction as real as Jake’s penchant for cocaine.

  After that initial contact the first night we acknowledged each other, things took off at a sprint.

  It made sense to me that, if I wanted to be around Ron all the time, we should move in together.

  “I’d ask you to move in with me, but I’m something of a man without a home right now,” he told me as we lounged under an umbrella at the beach. “I’ve been traveling so much that it just hasn’t made sense to tie myself down to just one city.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “I’d tell you just to move in with me, but my place is awfully small. You know.”

  Ron had been insisting on us sleeping there each night since the first night we’d officially gone out together. It embarrassed me to no end…this amazing guy with so much money virtually slumming it with me. I had nothing to offer him, so when he broached the subject about crashing at my place until we could get something different figured out, I thought that it was the least I could do.

  Ron was always full of amazing ideas on how to really maximize on my crappy little apartment, too.

  “You keep it clean enough, I guess,” he said, scratching at an old stain on the secondhand couch I’d scrimped and saved for as I winced. “But you could do a lot with a couch cover, a throw blanket, and think of how good a thick, plush rug would look, right there. Think of all the ways I’d ravish you on that rug.”

  I could think of plenty. I filled my apartment with the things he requested of me, everything from a juicer to a wall of mirrors, and reaped my rewards with how much more excited he was to share that space with me. He was used to better things than I was, and I considered it both my responsibility to make my pared down life more comfortable for him and to take cues on how to be more elegant.

  The one aspect of our relationship that didn’t require a single lesson on design or etiquette was our sex life. The energy between us was intense, electric. My body felt as if it were always primed to take Ron inside of it, quivering each time he glanced at me, shuddering at every touch.

  It was strange to me that my life had changed from one of relative hermitage to constant, mind-blowing sex.

  The sex was great. The sex was better than great. Ron was a generous lover, making sure to touch me everywhere until I was mewling and practically begging for him to put it in. He was understanding that I didn’t have much practice at the actual art of it.

  “That makes it honestly better for me, baby,” he said, threading his fingers through mine as he drove forward slowly, entering me inch by inch as I bit my lip and tried to be patient, tried to resist urging him on. “I get to show you all the tricks now.”

  However, I could never last; I was always driven to the edge by the sweet oblivion that orgasm granted. Worries of the day melted away. I forgot about aches and pains and concerns at the club. For several illusory moments, I even forgot about Marcus, forgot about wondering where he was and what he was doing. Each time I had sex with Ron, I got further and further away from the idea of being in love with my stepbrother. It was both frightening and encouraging. I’d gone for most of my adult life, up until this point, being in love with the idea of a man, the idea that it could, at some point, be acceptable to be with Marcus. Deep down, of course, I knew that it would never be all right. If anyone dared to guess the truth of the origin of our relationship, we’d be laughed out of whatever community where we tried to build a life.

  It was such a relief to be with Ron, to be with someone normal. And he made me feel like I actually had a future, that I wasn’t simply drifting around listlessly in Miami, waiting for something to happen to me. The something that was going to happen was Ron, and I was so thankful he’d found me. Perhaps it was the whole reason I’d been led to start working at the club in the first place…to reach this point eventuality. To be with a man who fascinated me and made me feel things I didn’t think were possible anymore.

  I always encouraged Ron to finish me off as fast as he could manage, favoring the quick release over the slow build, craving the immediate payoff, the instant gratification, the unbridled hedonism of knowing what I wanted and knowing that I was with someone who was all too willing to give it to me.

  “Now,” I’d whisper, breathless, my thighs squeezing his waist. “Now, now, now. Please.”

  “You’re going to turn me into a minuteman if you’re not careful,” he’d pant back, grinning. “You’re so fucking eager, Parker.” He’d always complain, good-naturedly, but he never failed to comply with my request. It was something I appreciated about Ron, that he never denied me from the things I asked of him.

  Then, it would be a matter of him li
fting my legs to his shoulders, pushing them back until my muscles and tendons screamed, and then hitting that sweet spot inside of me again and again until sweet nothing obliterated my brain and I became a being of pure feeling instead of a person who thought and hoped and cared and wondered.

  Those were the moments I wanted, the ones I grew to need.

  “Tell me about all the places you’ve been,” I said, refocusing back on Ron at the beach, trying to keep myself from getting too horny. I didn’t want to cut our nice day short. It was a rare platonic one after all. I turned on my stomach with a small grunt so I could look at him. He was so worldly. I felt like a student ready to soak in a guru’s knowledge. “I want to know everything.” The sun was just starting its creep toward the horizon, and people were packing up their towels and children and plastic toys. I was sure I’d gotten a burn. It was so rare to get out in the daytime for me since I worked at night. I once slept through the entire day, never seeing the sun at all.

  “I’d only bore you,” he laughed, waving me off.

  “You never bore me,” I protested, and it was true. I hung on every word that fell from his lips; I caught myself staring at him when we weren’t talking; and I basically watched my every move to make sure I impressed him as much as I could. I couldn’t really explain why I put him on such a pedestal, but his personality compelled me to do so. Ron seemed like the kind of person I’d always wanted to be. I didn’t want to question why I felt the way I did about him. I wanted to be him, and, short of that, I wanted to be with him at every second of every day.

  “Tell me at least about the best place you’ve ever been,” I urged. “Your very favorite place.”

  Ron made a sound in his throat and looked out to the ocean. It reflected beautifully on his sunglasses and would’ve made a lovely photo, but it also made him really hard to read.

  “You really want to know my favorite place I’ve ever been?” he asked, turning back toward me. All I could see was my flushed face reflected in those sunglasses, my nose burned to resemble a cherry.