Dirty Deeds by Stella Rhys

2

ALY

“Holdup – what are you wearing under that dress?”

Evie’s question came only once we hit the dance floor at Godsend, the absolute jungle of a nightclub she’d brought me to. Hanging from the ceiling and snaking up the walls were vines upon vines of beautiful flowers and plants, their petals illuminated by the black lights.

At first I liked the lights. Then I realized they lit the white of my bra on fire and made it shine like two blazing suns under my black dress. I was legitimately blinding people on the dance floor. One guy actually passed me, yelped and shielded his eyes like he’d stared at the eclipse. Beyond that, I was getting taunted left and right.

“Hey! Hush!” Evie scolded two girls who shimmied past me and yelled, “Nice bra!”

“It’s okay, I deserve it!” I yelled over the music, still dancing as I stared down at myself. For God’s sake, there were polka dots on the bra. Pink ones. They were so bright they were distracting even me.

“Do you not own a black bra?” Evie shouted over the blaring EDM.

“Do you not recall the fire that ate everything I’ve ever owned?” I countered.

“Shit, right!” Evie cursed, still grooving as she tossed her honey locks over her shoulder. Peering around the floor, she looked back at me and laughed. “Alright, girl, we’ve got way too much weird attention right now. You gotta lose the bra.”

“Really?” I crinkled my nose. I had far too much boobage to dance comfortably without a bra, but Evie was right – I also had way too many guys staring at me with grins that ranged from leering amusement to flat-out creepiness.

“It’s okay, the dress is tight enough to keep the girls contained!” Evie yelled, reading my mind. “Now go, go, go!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be back!” I shouted before heading off to the bathroom.

The first one I located had a line spilling out the door, but thanks to a shot girl who took pity on my radioactive chest, I managed to find my way to an empty employee bathroom on the second floor.

In the last stall, I peeled Evie’s skintight dress down to my waist, unclasping my bra and laughing at myself as I whipped it off. It had been on clearance at Victoria’s Secret, and for good reason – it was ridiculously over-the-top girly. Even its polka dots had polka dots. But that was precisely why I bought it. Once upon a time, for all the wrong reasons, I was that stone-faced tomboy who wouldn’t cry and scoffed at all things pink. I went as far as to wear undersized sports bras to minimize my curves because I felt the urgent need to hide all shreds of femininity. Like it was something to be ashamed of.

I was stupid then.

So these days, I was making up for all the years I forced myself to be what somebody else wanted. These days, I no longer hid my body. I no longer scoffed at “girly” fashion. Gone were the sports bras, oversized button-ups and shapeless loafers. Replacing them were things I’d always liked but never let myself wear – all the shift dresses, pencil skirts, ballet flats and espadrilles.

And occasionally, the neon polka dot bras.

I snorted at myself as I exited the stall, swinging my bra on my wrist and rather enjoying the feeling of going braless in public for the first time in my adult life. Gathering my hair to the side, I gazed down my front, giving myself permission to admire my heeled feet, my smooth legs and the poor, braless boobs that I’d hidden from the world since the summer they came.

Poor girls. It’s your time to finally shine tonight, I decided with a giggle, reaching under my neckline to give my cleavage a boost. But just as I scooped and lifted, I heard a groan.

“Fuck – what are you doing?”

“Omigod!” I yelped in shock, clasping my hand to my chest as my eyes shot up to see whom the voice belonged to.

Holyshitholyshitholyshit.

My mouth fell open when my eyes landed promptly on muscle – hard, naked muscle on a tall, dark, shirtless God of a man.

Whoa.

Okay.

What… the fuck?

My eyes fluttered. Who was this guy? Where were his clothes? How was this level of hotness even possible? In two seconds I already had so many questions, but none of them made it out of my mouth because it was too busy watering over his body.

Holy pecs, Batman.

I swallowed hard as my gaze traveled across the stranger’s shoulders down to his broad chest and killer six… no. Wait.

My shameless eyes narrowed as they counted every deep-cut section of his eeeight-paaaack!

In my head, I yelled it like Oprah.

But seriously. Shit. He had a fucking eight-pack. Oh, Evie. Part of me wanted to whip out my phone, take a picture and send it right to her, but I found myself quickly distracted by those insane rib muscles. What the hell were they called? I had no idea, but this guy had them and they made him look stronger than a wild fucking animal. My thighs squirmed against each other as I heard his low voice speak to me again.

“Yeah, you, uh…” I looked up to see him wince and rub his square jaw in a way I found painfully sexy. “You gotta stop doing that,” he said with a short laugh.

I blinked.

“Doing what?”

He nodded at my chest with a slight crease in his brow.

“Fondling yourself in front of me.”

My eyes fluttered down my front, and only then did I realize my hand had still been under my dress when I clasped my heart in shock. My cheeks lit aflame as I processed the fact that I’d basically just groped my boobs for a good three to four seconds in front of this absurdly hot stranger.

“Oh… my God,” I whispered under my breath, fairly mortified as I released myself and slipped my hand out from under my dress.

“I mean if you want to keep doing that, by all means,” Eight-Pack smirked, his lean biceps twitching as he hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “It’s just I already stained my shirt tonight.” He nodded toward his booze-splattered button-up in the sink. “Didn’t really feel like busting the zipper on my favorite jeans.”

I took a moment to process what he was saying. I gave a dry laugh as I stared at him.

“Was that a boner joke?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how much it counts as a joke when I’m actually hard right now.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?” he laughed. “Cut me some slack, I thought I was alone in here – I definitely didn’t expect a fucking gorgeous blonde to walk out playing with her own tits.” He held both hands up when I shot a look. “Breasts. Sorry.”

“Huh.” I crossed my arms, unsure if the noise I made in response was a laugh or a scoff. I honestly couldn’t tell if I was offended, charmed or completely turned on by this guy, but I was leaning towards all of the above. “Yeah, well… I also didn’t expect to walk out of the bathroom to find a guy just standing there without a shirt on,” I countered. “Pretty sure this is a women’s bathroom.”

“It’s a unisex employee’s bathroom,” he corrected, his gaze traveling leisurely up my legs. “And I’m pretty sure you’re not an employee.”

“How do you know that for sure?” I challenged.

“Because I would’ve remembered you,” he replied as his eyes landed back on me.

Ugh, fine.

I had been biting it back till this point, but fuck it, I finally let go of my grin. I was officially charmed, my heart skipping a beat as I watched the stranger’s lake blue eyes fall gently onto my mouth. When he looked back up at me, a curious frown pinched his brow.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Evie,” I lied.

“Evie,” he repeated.

His stare was still glued on me as my own trailed down the vein snaking from his tricep to his thick forearm. I imagined that vein twitching as he did everything from open jars to roll up sleeves to lift giant weights at the gym. I also might’ve pictured those forearms flexing as he lifted girls by the backs of their thighs and pinned them up against the wall, but that fantasy was fleeting.

And by fleeting, I mean I forced it out of my head because if my panties got any wetter, they might very well slide off my body.

“Hey.” There was a laugh in his voice. “Still with me?”

My eyes fluttered up at his question, and only then did I realize he’d been talking to me during the entirety of my ogling.

“Sorry – what?” I asked hastily.

“Nothing, I was just asking what finally brought you to this club tonight,” he chuckled. “Nothing urgent – just your shitty, run-of-the-mill small talk to hide the fact that I can’t stop staring at you.”

Oh. I raked my little grin between my teeth as our eyes gleamed like fucking stars at each other. God, what was happening? I’d known this guy all of twelve seconds yet the sexual tension was through the roof. I could practically hear the spark of electricity between us. It was nothing I’d ever felt before.

Then again, he is shirtless and beautiful,I reasoned with myself. And his first glance at you did involve extreme boob grabbing, so of course you’re both thinking about sex.Dirty… sweaty… bite-his-shoulder, claw-his-back kind of sex. All things considered, totally expected – but for the love of God, change the topic already.

My mind raced as I rewound the conversation back to his mundane question about what had brought me to the club tonight.

“I have insomnia,” I blurted, watching Eight Pack lift an eyebrow. “And dancing is one of two things that gets me thoroughly tired.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“Come again?”

I blushed at myself.

“Sorry. Going back to your question about what brought me here tonight… I have insomnia and a fairly important thing at work tomorrow morning that involves getting my picture taken, so basically, I need sleep and I’m pretty much here tonight so I can tire myself out,” I explained, waiting for that sexy laugh – for him to tease or ridicule me.

But he gave no reaction.

Instead, he studied me, letting silence fill the room for several seconds before flashing a smirk.

“I could tire you out,” he said.

The huskiness of his voice went straight to my clit.

Easy, I pleaded with my imagination. I really didn’t need more mental pictures of what this guy looked like naked and pinning me down on his bed. Any more squirming or blushing and he’d know that he had me tempted, and I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t just hook up with some random guy at a club. Despite how unbelievably hot he was, and how unbelievably hot he’d gotten me in about three seconds, it just wasn’t a thing that I did.

“Sorry.” A wry smile twisted my lips. “But I think I have to decline.”

“Of course you have to,” he grinned. “Whether you want to is the question.”

“In that case, I plead the fifth.”

“Why not just take what you want?” he laughed. “I do it all the time, and let me tell you, it’s a great way to live.”

I snorted. “I just don’t go home with strangers.”

He glanced to the side. “Fine. Then I’ll tire you out over the sink.”

Fuck.

I couldn’t help glancing over at the sink as well. One tiny look and I was already imagining his hard chest pressed against my back and his big hands filling themselves with my tits, squeezing them relentlessly till I cried out. I could practically hear his gravelly voice growling dirty, sexy filth in my ear as he gripped my hips and pumped into me from behind. Yeah, he’s definitely huge, I decided, not even realizing that I’d closed my eyes till his voice made them flutter open again.

“Now that’s just fucked up,” he said, serious despite a curt laugh.

Tipping his chin up, he drew a hand across his perfect jaw, his face a mixture of annoyance and arousal as he looked down his perfect nose at me. I swallowed.

“What is?”

“You making that lusty little ‘fuck me’ face right now.”

I breathed out a laugh. “Was I?”

“I don’t know. Your cheeks got nice and pink and you were sucking on your lip like it was candy. Is that the face you make when you want to get fucked?” he asked, his question flooding me with heat.

“No.” I lied. “I just do that sometimes.”

“Well, don’t do it now,” he muttered. “Not unless you want me to pull that little skirt up your thighs and make you come all over my mouth.”

Holy…

Shit.

I was speechless as he smirked.

“You’re doing it again.”

“What? The fuck-me face?” I choked breathlessly, my entire body on fire. “Sorry. Can’t really help it when you’re standing there without a shirt on and telling me you’re going to lick my pussy till I come.”

“Christ.” His jaw tightened as a low growl rumbled from his chest. “Did I say those exact words?” he asked, arousal thick in his voice.

“No,” I sputtered hotly, suddenly embarrassed that I’d dropped the word “pussy” right in front of a stranger. “But you implied. So I deduced.”

“Right,” he grinned as his eyebrows pulled tight. “Are we fighting, by the way? Because if we are, it’s getting me even harder than I was when you first walked out squeezing the hell out of those perfect tits.” He laughed as my jaw dropped. “What? You can say pussy but I can’t say tits?”

“Now you’re just trying to rile me up.”

“No, you’ve been riled up. You’re just trying to pretend otherwise because you don’t want to believe that some stranger at a club is actually tempting you to break whatever rule you have about one-night stands.”

I glared at his self-satisfied smirk, letting the silence stretch between us till it felt almost deafening. He broke it with a laugh.

“I meant to ask, by the way – what was the other thing?” he asked.

“What?”

“You said that dancing was one of two things that got you actually tired. What was the other thing?”

Fuck, I cursed, our stares locked tight as I sucked on my bottom lip. Sex is the other thing, I answered silently as he gave that low chuckle. Crazy, sweaty, eight-pack sex. You asshole.

I wasn’t sure how, but he already knew the damned answer, so rather than say it I simply swallowed the knot in my throat. Holding my hair off the blazing hot back of my neck, I tried to reconcile the fact that I was about to do something crazy.

“I can have my driver outside in a minute if you want to get out of here,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming at me.

I was still chewing my lip, and it took a good few moments to find my words. But when I did, they came out without the slightest tremor.

“Fine. Call your driver now.”