Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(20)
Author: Jen Frederick

“It’s not a chore.” I slip my pearl cufflinks through a snowy-white dress shirt. Sitting on the bench, I pull on socks and loafers. This is my nightclub attire, as designated by Frank. Shirt, dark wash jeans, and a sport coat. Tiny picked the coat out for me, and it’s currently lying on the end of the bed. Stretching out my legs, I enjoy the show she’s putting on.

We’re taking an old friend of hers to the Aquarium, and Tiny has put more effort and thought into what she’ll wear and how she’ll look than any of the dates I’ve taken her on.

“Are you planning on sleeping with this chick tonight?” I ask. She pauses in zipping-up her third outfit. No wait, maybe this is her fourth.

“Ha-ha. Very funny, Ian. Help me.” She turns her back to me and I slide the zipper up. This outfit is a dress, which is probably a bad idea for a bar whose second floor is made almost entirely of glass.

“Did you forget that people can look up your skirt at the bar?” I ask, sliding a finger up the inside of a creamy thigh. “Because I can see starting a lot of fights tonight if you intend to wear this, particularly with those panties on.”

Her undergarments currently consists of a black lace thong that has one small panel in the front and is attached to a miniscule patch of fabric in the back with two rows of satin strings. In the dark light of the bar, it would likely appear as if she were wearing nothing. My palm covers her pu**y. “Did you forget that this is mine?”

She sways and her hand finds my shoulder—either for stability or because she wants to press down on me. With diabolical intent, I draw back so that my fingers can rub over her clit and pu**y lips.

“Mmm,” she whimpers. “Stop. You’ll make my thong wet, and I’ll have to change.”

Despite her protest, though, she doesn’t move away.

“That’s entirely my plan.” I slip my middle finger inside and draw out the wetness I find there.

“Then maybe I should go without,” she says breathily but with challenge. I smile to myself. It’s always a fight with her, but that’s part of what I adore about Tiny Corielli. She doesn’t give me even an inch. Pulling my finger out, I suck the light moisture from the digit while smoothing down her skirt with my other hand.

“Then I’ll f**k you on the dance floor in front of everyone.”

Her eyes widen, and I wish my hand was still on her pu**y so I could feel the flood of arousal. She might not give voice to it, but the idea intrigues her. I’ll suss out later whether exhibitionism is something she’d actually enjoy or whether it’s just the thought that turns her on. Either way, I can deliver for her.

“Maybe we’ll just stay in the VIP section,” she muses and gestures for me to unzip her.

“I’m wondering if I should be offended that you’ve never worried this much about how you’re going to look when we’ve gone out.”

“I thought your preference was for me to be naked.” Her fingers riffle through her clothes. Clearly she doesn’t have enough.

“So it is.”

“It’s just that I haven’t been out with Sarah for years and I feel so disconnected from everyone. It’s like I woke up one day and every girlfriend I had disappeared.”

I refrain from pointing out that her five year struggle with her mother’s cancer might have had a lot to do with it. I didn’t know Tiny and her mother when the cancer first appeared and then went into remission, so I don’t know what the battle was like the first go-around, but I know that when Sophie Corielli’s cancer came back a second time, Tiny worked extra jobs on top of taking care of her sick mother. She didn’t have time to go out and party with her girlfriends.

I’m reserving judgment as to whether this friend of hers is worth Tiny’s time. Where was she when Tiny was trying to hold the pieces of her life together? That’s when Tiny could have used a friend. Now suddenly this Sarah turns up and asks if Tiny can get her into the exclusive nightclubs that she’s seen mentioned in the gossip rags.

Tiny finally decides on a pair of leopard-print shorts with a low-cut black tank top covered in sequins. She pulls on a sexy black lace bra with scalloped edges. The shirt makes a slight musical sound as she moves and the light catches on the small silver disks, drawing the eye to the perfect swell of her br**sts peeking out from the top of the tank. Before I can form a protest at how much of her will be on display, she throws an off-white jacket over the top and pushes up the sleeves.

When she straps on a pair of metal-studded stilettos, I know she’s really trying to impress. She’s a tennis shoes and flats kind of girl. I want to draw her into my arms and tell her that everything is going to be fine, but I wait until she’s done fixing her golden hair into a messy side braid. Strolling over to her, I tug on the braid.

“I like this. I can think of several things I want to do with this braid.”

She gives me a coy look and purses her painted lips. “You can look but don’t touch.”

The coquettish attitude is tempting me to bend her over and show her how I can touch her a million different ways without messing her hair or makeup, but the downstairs bell rings, signaling the arrival of her friend.

Tiny pulls her hair from my hand and rushes downstairs. I grab my jacket and follow her.

“Be nice,” she hisses over her shoulder as she opens the door.

“Vic!” A tall woman with dark curly hair appears in the entryway. Tiny rushes over and gives her a hug. “You look amazing. I love it. Shorts, how chic!”

“Thanks, you look great too. Come and meet Ian.” Tiny tugs Sarah’s hand and they walk over to me. I use the time to measure Sarah. She’s about six inches taller than my girl and slender. The navy blue and white bandage dress accentuates her thinness. Jesus, these women need to eat more.

“Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand. It’s firm and dry, which I take as a good sign.

“Great place you have here.” She smiles at me but it’s friendly appreciation only. There’s no flirtation in her greeting. Just to make sure she knows that I’m firmly in the hands of Tiny, I draw her to my side.

“Tiny says you’ve never been to the Aquarium.” The bar is a new establishment owned by a friend of mine, Tadashubu Kaga, heir to one of the largest beverage corporations in the world. About ten thousand Kaga beverages are consumed every second. His brand of entertainment is currently creating outrageous nightclubs and throwing parties. The Aquarium is so named because the interior is filled with water and blue paint. We’re the fish, and we’re all swimming around in Kaga’s bowl.