My Protector by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Eight

Dillon

I deliberately let Becky ascend the stairs to Sawyer’s office, only so I can watch her ass move an inch from my face.

Itching to bury my face in it while a hand takes care of her front.

But this is work, and I get the feeling I’ve done more than tread on some toes on my first day on the job.

Sawyer heaves himself into his seat behind his desk, his short fingers reunited with the cigar he’s left smoldering.

A bank of CCTV screens on the wall beside him explains a lot.

I never noticed them earlier, but it looks like they’re in some sort of cabinet that closes when not in use.

But it also explains why Sawyer never leaves his office. He never fucking has to.

If he wants a drink, it’s brought up, same with food.

He can see every angle of the whole place, even the gaming tables we are not supposed to talk about.

At a glance I can see there are some other entrances too, direct to the other gaming rooms.

Shit, the guy’s running a fucking casino here.

Gentleman’s club is just a front.

I underestimated him.

Damn.

Blowing a face full of blue-gray smoke in my direction, he scans my body again.

He ignores Becky.

“Why shouldn’t I just fire you right now, Dillon?” he asks himself instead of addressing me like a normal person might.

I open my mouth to speak but he holds a stubby, impatient finger up. Daring me with his eyes to say one word.

“I know what you think of me, what everyone thinks of me,” he confides to the pair of us suddenly after taking another thoughtful puff.

“You think I’m a fat stupid drunk who couldn’t run a bath let alone something like this…” he says softly, waving the same finger to the wall of screens.

“But I do, and I wanna keep it that way,” he says, his eyes narrowing, growing colder with a look I’ve only seen a couple of times.

The look of someone who’s not afraid to do the dirtiest work required all by themselves but leaves the cleaning up to a professional.

“Mr. Sawyer, I can—” Becky starts to say hurriedly, but a single glance from him stops her.

I can hear my knuckles pop. We all do.

Sawyer’s eyes shift languidly to mine and he gives a little shake of his head.

The ‘don’t even bother’ look. But he can’t hold my gaze for long.

I can do killer eyes all day and all night if I want, and if it wasn’t for Becky this man would already be begging me not to drop him as I hung him out to dry.

“I’ll spell it out for you, Dillon,” he continues, eyeing Becky briefly and only to illustrate his point.

“…Because nobody else will or can. I’m the only one you’ll ever hear this from. The gaming lounges operate from overflow from the front bar and lounge. Once members are tipsy enough, they’re offered an additional membership to the real club. Understand?” he coos like he’s talking to a child.

“So?” I ask him, shrugging. “You want a doorman or not?” Because I know I can walk right now, and he doesn’t know it yet, and neither does she but I’d be taking Becky with me too.

“Just play the game, Dillon,” Sawyer sighs, smiling suddenly as he observes something I’m not privy to on one of his screens.

“Just play the game and everybody’s happy, okay? If somebody needs taking outside… well. Leave that to me, will you? I don’t pay you to think Dillon. Just get the password and let people in, simple no?” he asks again.

I can feel Becky’s body radiating tension next to me and although it goes against every instinct I have, I agree with him.

“Sure,” I tell him nicely. “And sorry if I was a little over the top. Y’know? First day nerves, I guess,” I lie. Looking down so he doesn’t have to see how much I want to rearrange his face with my fists.

“Good,” he clips. “And if I see either of you in here again, it won’t end as nice next time. So just do your jobs,” he adds.

He looks away, dismissing us without another word. Becky goes first and it’s the sight of her from behind that draws me out like iron filings to a magnet.

Nothing to do with Sawyer. Fuck him, he can go to hell.

After I break Matt, I’ll make sure to pay this fucker a visit one morning. Show him how real threats are carried out.

“Well that went pretty great,” Becky groans as soon as we’re on the stairs going down this time.

I watch her hair as she shifts her head, the brighter lights of this lounge area, the big brass fittings lighting her up.

Or is it just because the whole world looks better now that I know she’s in it?

I can’t decide.

I stifle a laugh, but soon realize she’s serious.

Still mad with me, and by god if that doesn’t make me wanna fuck her even harder for it.

The lounge area beneath Sawyer’s office seems deserted. Maybe it’s too early or maybe they’re already all in the gaming rooms.

But I see the door marked MEN, and before I can even think I’ve grabbed a hold of Becky from behind and bundled her into the bathroom with me.

It’s empty but spacious. Overly spacious for a men’s room, but I couldn’t care less if we were on the moon right now.

I need to feel her in my grip again.

I need to tell her how badly she needs to be fucked, like right. Fucking. Now.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, playing at fighting me off, but giving in to her own arousal in a second.

My hand is up her skirt while hers is on my pulsing rod in the same amount of time, pumping me through my pants.

As if I need help getting it up around her, but like me, she can’t keep her hands to herself.

“This is so wrong, what if we get caught? What if someone...” she gasps loudly.

The thought stops me cold.

I don’t want another man, any man seeing Becky so turned on like this.

Her sweet slit is mine for the taking, not for show.

“You’re right,” I growl, eyeing the empty stall opposite and lifting her off her feet I carry her in there, my hands finding her perfect tits and popping her shirt open once I set her down as I get on one knee to fill my mouth with them.

“Dillon...” she protests, but her shuddering breaths soon take over. I can smell her readiness in the air, mixing with my own.

Fuck, she’s ready. And I’m way past overdue to fill her.

But something else changes. She goes limp and stops moving.

My heart freezes and I grip her by the shoulders, asking her if I hurt her, making sure she’s alright.

A little rough and tumble is hot, sexy. But there’s no way I’d want to hurt a hair on her head, or anywhere else on her perfect body.

“Becky. What is it?” I ask, noticing how ill she looks suddenly.

“Never mind,” she murmurs. “Can we just get back to work… Please?” she begs me.

I feel my brow crease, knowing I haven’t exactly told her everything about me yet either, but I wonder what it is she could possibly be holding back from me.

“Is there someone else?” I ask her point-blank, preparing myself to do whatever I have to to make that someone else goes away, disappear for a while.

“No,” she says. Looking hurt. Sounding annoyed.

“Then what is it?” I ask her again, feeling her wriggling free of me, opening the stall door just a little to make sure the coast is clear before she darts from the men’s room.

Two foul balls in one night?

Maybe Sawyer’s right. If I strike out again, I’m in deep shit.

But it’s not Sawyer I’m worried about. If Becky won’t have me for some reason or if there’s anything that could come between us, except our own climaxes, I need to know and right fucking now.