Clubs: The Suit’s Book 2

Sloane walks past me, her arm carefully brushing against mine. There’s a large part of me with an urge to grab onto her hand and pull her close to me. Turning around, I watch her walk up the dull pathway. Her black mid-length skirt hugs her beautiful curves while her long, almost white hair is tied in the back.

How is it that the woman is able to do as she pleases and still receive my decency? It’s as if she challenges me constantly to see how far she’ll get.

She must tire from trying to get under my skin. She is relentless about it. She had no reason to leave the house today, and yet she still chose to do so. I kind of enjoy how eager she is to get her way. It’s a look not many can pass, but she can. She’s a young woman who can take care of herself. She needs the space to learn about what spikes her curiosity. If it’s the city she wants to see, she’s lucky I’m able to understand.

I didn’t plan on bringing her here tonight. It was never my intention to have her meet some of the most important people to me, but I’d rather have it this way than have her run away without my knowledge.

My only hope is that she won’t take my humanity for granted.

There’s something about Sloane I can’t put my finger on. A part of me thinks she works well by my side. I can give her the adventure she craves, and she can give me a teammate in return. She has a boldness many men would fear. I can’t tell if it’s just a façade of hers or if she is strong at heart.

If it’s all an illusion, that mask of hers is painted on seamlessly.

I know everything there is to know about masking. Sometimes it’s a way to hide behind the fear that weighs down on my shoulders; other times it’s a placeholder for emotions I don’t particularly feel like sifting through. And yet even I know the longer the mask is on, the stronger the denial will be. It’s a temporary fix and nothing more. You give up a moment of peace for a lifetime of ache.

I’ve had my mask on for years, and I know the moment I take it off, I’ll be hit with years of building pain—the pain I’ve refused to look in the eye.

Turning, I see Anya staring at Sloane. She’s quick to follow after her, which only spikes my curiosity. Haven’t they just met?

“Dimitri,” I call.

He turns toward me with a smile plastered on his face. His eyes crease in the corners. I lift my finger at Anya, who follows Sloane. Once at the top of the aisle, Anya grabs onto Sloane’s shoulder and leads her away from the crowd.

“What’s that about?” I ask.

His lips form a weird shape, and he shrugs his arms. “Fast friends?” he asks. Dimitri must’ve noticed my worry. He shakes his head. “Would you stop? Not everyone is out to get you. We’re at my child’s show, for fuck’s sake.”

I cross my arms and feel my lips lifting with amusement. “You just reminded yourself to watch your tongue. We are at your child’s show, for Christ’s sake.”

“If children struggle to hear their fathers swear, I’m worried for our future.”

I cover a laugh and pat his back. “You’re right about that one,” I tell him.

He turns away from me and continues his conversation with a man I don’t recognize. Still sitting in the chairs, Max and Lev both argue. I take a seat next to them.

Music from “The Nutcracker” begins to play while the time passes.

“They can’t dance to ‘The Nutcracker’ yet. It’s only July,” Max says in a nasty tone.

Lev lifts his weight off the back of the chair and turns to Max, staring at him intently. “Were you born under a rock, or have you not heard of Christmas in July, you dumb fuck?”

“If you put up a tree during July, I will personally press a knife in your chest,” Max says, unamused.

“It sounds like you were neglected as a child if you don’t enjoy Christmas,” Lev says.

I cough, trying to break up their argument, but it does nothing.

“It sounds like you were coddled as a child if you enjoy it that much.”

“Enough,” I mutter, and they both shut up. While I get both viewpoints, I don’t think this is the best place to hash it out.

“Well, what do you think?” Lev encourages me to answer, and I just look at him. “You enjoy Christmas, right?”

I smile and shake my head. “Neglected child here.”

He looks away from me quickly and puts his head down. I hope I didn’t make him uncomfortable, but what the fuck did he expect? Did he want me to say I love red and green thrown all around my house and twinkle lights? Oh, maybe I’ll leave the fireplace off so Santa can make it down the chimney.

Can’t forget about the fucking milk and cookies.

The kids regather on the stage and perform two more dances, all of them incredible. Alyna owns the stage. A woman stands next to them and begins to thank everyone for coming to the performance. They go behind the curtains for a while.

“Uncle Misha!” a kind, gentle voice calls from behind me. I turn to see Alyna walking with Sloane and Anya.

I kneel to the ground and open my arms for the little one. She jumps into my arms, her hair bow hitting me in the face, and I smile through the uncomfortable feeling. Alyna feels tiny in my arms, yet I want to hug her as tight as possible.

Her feet hang while I hold her on my side. She traces the ink on my neck and smiles. “Did you see me up there?” she asks.

“What kind of a question is that?” I ask. “You’re all I saw.”

Her giggle is high-pitched, just like Anya’s was. I lift her over my shoulders. Lev, Max, and Dimitri talk to her about the show while I hold her up. Her small fingers wrap around my index fingers to keep herself steady.

It’s moments like these that will be drilled into her mind forever. Having so many people care for her—people who would do anything for her—is priceless. This little girl obsessed with Disney movies, ballet, and feeding the fish will end up being the most incredible person I know. As time passes, the déjà vu she feels won’t leave a bad taste in her mouth. She’ll only have good memories to keep in her mental scrapbook. Memories like this—where we all cheer for her because she’s all we see.

It’s the happy memories that sustain us. Her heart won’t be tainted with the devil’s wrath—not if I have a say in it. I want her to imagine the world in her hands, because it is. Anything she wants, she’ll get.

Sloane crosses her arms and gives me a weak smile while she looks at me and then Alyna. When she looks at me like that, I can’t do anything but forget my anger. It’s the gentle look in her eyes that makes them appear soft.

We all catch up for what feels like an hour. The entire auditorium clears out, and Alyna dances on the stage by herself. Dimitri tells me he plans on leaving me to go back to the house with Anya soon, and I don’t blame him. I’m glad he’s stayed with me as long as he has, but his family needs to come first.

As we say our goodbyes, Sloane grabs onto my arm and we make our way to the entrance of the building. Opening the door, a huge gust of wind blows past us. The lights make the pelting rain look like mist as it falls from the sky, splashing onto the concrete.

Before I can offer my jacket to Sloane, she looks up at me with a grin and runs outside. When I chase after her, she stops to grab my hand with a wide smile plastered across her face. Why the fuck does she enjoy this? Better yet, why is her smile making me enjoy getting drenched with water?

When we make it to the car, she looks at me but doesn’t utter a word. It’s the kind of look that gives me the ability to read her mind. For Sloane, I’ve come to understand it’s the little things in life that mean the most to her. Running to the car was enough to give her the biggest smile. It’s the kind of smile I’d like to give her with my words.

I shake my head and start the car, driving back onto the main road. She stays silent and picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails. Her head turns to face mine, but she’s quick to turn away.

Wishing she’d just get on with it and say what she needs to say, I ask, “What’s on your mind?”

“Can you pull over?”

I give her a worried look. “Are you sick?”

“Could you just pull over?”

I do as she says and move to the side of the road. “This isn’t really a good place to stop,” I tell her and shift the car into park.

Just as I turn to look at her, she reaches over and pulls my face close to hers. Her lips press against mine, biting on my bottom lip. In the split second that her skin touches mine, every nerve in my body is electrified with greed and anticipation.

The way her lips fit perfectly with mine should be a crime. She moans into my mouth, and I reach over to grab onto her waist, lifting her onto my lap.

Her smooth legs straddle either side of my lap as I kiss her neck.

Sloane is worse than a drug—worse than any addiction known to mankind. Addiction can be beat; this cannot. The more she gives to me, the more I want to take. It’s the repetition that will cause my destruction. I’ve become familiar with how her tongue brushes against mine, challenging me. The way her hips lift and grind against me. Nothing about this can be cured despite my best efforts.

“I shouldn’t want you,” she mutters while her neck falls back.

My hands lift behind her head, and I undo the tie that holds her hair together. “Is that right, “Moya malenkaya koldunya?” I whisper against her bare skin.

I take the thin strap of her shirt between my fingers. When I move them down, her breasts spill out of her top, and I brush my thumb over the nipple. There’s something disarming about seeing her like this. Sloane will only show this version of herself to one person in this world, and it is me. I’ll be dammed if any other pair of eyes is able to see the perfection that she is.

There’s vulnerability in the look she gives me. The gleam in her eyes is pure. I tuck her hair behind her ear and grab onto her neck, bringing her lips back to mine—where they belong.

Her eyes search mine, and it’s as if she can read my exact thoughts. She terrifies me. The woman straddling my lap has complete power over me, and there are no reservations in the back of my mind, only a million thoughts condensed into this single moment.

Her forehead rests against mine and her hand trails down my chest slowly. She calculates her next move, and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Her hips rise and fall, pressing against me, teasing me for more.

I bury my face into her neck before I kiss my way down to her breasts. I suck, bite, and tug on her skin. My hands inch down to her hips, and I grab onto them with pressure, guiding her movements against me. She leans back, and I move my fingers over her clit.

“Kroshka,” I begin. “Are you wearing anything beneath this skirt?”

She looks down at me with eyes that dominate. I lick my lips, and her hand grabs onto my jaw, her thumb pulling my bottom lips down as she slowly shakes her head. Her lips press against mine with aggression.

“Fuck,” I whimper in her mouth.

Sloane continues to stimulate every part of my fucking body to the point where I’m longing for her. I want every part of me to be touched and caressed by the gentle tips of her fingers. She’s teaching me a lesson on patience, and I’m about fucking finished with it.

“Stop,” she says, grabbing my hands and putting them to the sides of my body. “Your greed is showing.”

My teeth clench down in frustration. With patience comes power, and I am completely powerless against her. “I’m the greediest son of a bitch in the world when it comes to you.”

Whatever attraction I feel for Sloane is the healthiest kind of toxicity I’ve come to know. It’s everything I’ve craved, and yet it terrifies me. Sloane can see right through me, and there is no weapon to shield me from her. In fact, I’d give her the weapon to destroy me with if it meant I’d die at the hands of someone just as distraught as I am.

Sloane tugs on my belt and undoes the zipper, not wasting a minute before she lowers herself onto me. My head falls back when I watch her adjust to me being inside her. The thought of her body alone could ruin me. I’ve never known anyone more beautiful than Sloane. All rational thought and focus is washed away by desire and the pain of wanting her.

“Look at me,” I tell her as I bunch up her skirt and hold it up. “Look at what you do to me.”

She leans the upper part of her body closer to me and brushes her fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends. Her breasts press against my chest, and I hold my hand flat against her back, feeling myself sink into her over and over again. Holding her in my arms feels empowering. I’m a lucky fucking man to be able to have Sloane want me like this.

I watch her lift her body up and down on mine with awe. It takes an undeniable amount of control not to throw her in the back seat of the car and fuck her mindless, but I can tell she wants to be in charge this time. She feels delicate in my arms, and I feel powerful to be the man holding her.

She wants to see me at her full disposal, begging, craving more of her, and I’ll let her do as she pleases. There’s something so sexy about seeing her take control. She dominates me in a way I’ll never admit. I want her to overpower me; bring me to my knees.

She overwhelms me in a way I’ll cherish for years.

“Tell me what I do to you,” she says with a soft pant.

I grab onto her ass, guiding her movements. “You make me weak, Koldunya,” I admit.

“What else?” she demands.

“Jesus fuck, Sloane,” I whimper. “You ruin me.”

I’ve taught her everything she knows, and yet I feel as if I’m the one who’s learning. She’s learned the way my body works and exactly how to make me burn with desire.

She strips me of my strength, leaving me completely vulnerable. There’s so much to admire about her, but in this moment it’s her taking control. Never in my life have I let a woman dominate me the way Sloane is. It makes me feel defenseless, but there’s beauty in that.

She latches onto every word I give her, making me want to recite a fucking novel of words for her to cling onto.

I want more of her.

My hands trail up her back. The smooth skin rises with goose bumps at the slightest touch of my fingertips. Even though she is in charge, I know I get under her skin just as much as she gets under mine.

She’s able to break the endless pattern my mind runs on.

The windows are fogged, and orange streetlight floods the car, giving Sloane a soft glow. Everything about her is angelic. I gather her hair and pull her head back, kissing her neck.

She moans my name and rides me to my limit. Her hips thrust in a steady rhythm, edging herself close to her breaking point. I grab onto her ass and hold her tight against my body when I feel her throbbing against me. She puts her hands on top of mine and her breathing quickens.

I spill inside her, throwing my head back against the back of the seat. “Ya nikogda ne smogu ustat ot tebya.” I can never get tired of you.

Her hair drops over her shoulders, and she presses her forehead against mine. Her skin is flushed and her breathing unsteady. “What is it about you?” she asks with a voice so careful it almost sounds worried.

My eyes search her for the meaning behind her words, but she doesn’t expand on the thought. I lift her chin with the tip of my finger and give her a pained smile. “I wish I knew, Kroshka,” I tell her in a soft voice.