Down Came the Rain (NOW FREE!)

27

Chapter 27

Standing behind the bar of Garter's and Lace, Reine toyed sullenly with the thin gold hoop in her nose. With her elbows propped on top of the counter, she waited to take an order, the distracted customer too enthralled by the dancer gyrating on stage to tear his eyes away.

"I'll take a shot of whiskey," Annie told her, flinging herself onto a bar-stool. "Actually, make it a double."

Reine turned to her, a bored expression fixed to her cherubic face. "I'm not supposed to serve you. Big D said so."

"You think I give a flyin' fuck what Davis says?" Annie eyed the massive bouncer watching the front door from the corner of her eye. "I said get me a whiskey. Now!"

The pink-haired bartender stared at her a moment longer before snapping her gum. "You want a chaser with that?"

"Hell no, I don't want no chaser!" Annie tutted. "What kinda pussy you think I am?"

Reine rolled her big doe eyes and reached for a cocktail glass, filling amber liquid to the rim. She placed the drink on top of a square napkin and slid it in front of Annie. "I'm adding that to your tab."

"Seriously? I don't have a tab here. I'm a headliner. I get to drink whatever the hell I want to."

"Except when you're drinkin' more than you're bringin' in." Reine raised both palms in defense. "Just sayin'."

Annie arched an eyebrow. "You better get used to standing behind that bar, sweetheart, 'cause Stella's never gonna let you on stage."

"Fuck you, Anastasia."

Annie released a peal of laughter. "You wish." She slid her tongue between glossy, red lips. She downed the whiskey in two giant gulps and rose from the bar-stool, teetering on black stiletto heels. Her short skirt hitched high up her thighs. She smoothed it back into place.

She wasn't scheduled to work at the club, but after her argument with Hudson, Annie needed a release. And having a bunch of horny old men line worn dollars bills along the seam of her thong always made her feel good. Maybe a little dirty by the end of the shift, but it was an ego boost all the same.

Unfortunately, she was sober—annoyingly so—but had hopes of changing that before long. Stella always kept a stash of coke in the top drawer of her desk. Maybe she could slip into her office and help herself to some blow before anyone was the wiser. It's not like she didn't deserve it. After everything she'd been through lately she deserved more than a little high. She deserved to be free. But Hudson would have to hit rock bottom before that ever happened. And Hudson hitting rock bottom was all sorts of fucked up.

But it was only a matter of time.

Exactly. Like. Before.

A thick cloud of nicotine hung heavy over the throng of wide-eyed patrons and she gagged on the smoke. Or was it the memories? The memories of him and what he'd forced her to do. Over and over again. What Hudson had let him do.

Anastasia. Always the bad girl. The scapegoat. The one who got the short end of the stick. Thanks to her good friend. Her soul sister. The person who knew her better than she knew herself. Sooner or later Hudson would have to be a big girl and deal with this shit on her own. Just like everyone else in the world. What made her think she was so fucking special?

Her gaze flicked toward the slow languid movements of the dancer on stage and something pulled low in her stomach, a prickly sensation that shot straight between her legs. Maybe after she stopped by the office she would check to see who was working tonight. What she needed was a good fuck. A little therapy. That would help. That would take her mind off of things. At least, for a little while. She'd had sex the night before, but that wave of euphoria hadn't lasted very long. It never did.

It was no secret she had trouble connecting. Because of all the broken shards inside of her and their ridiculously sharp edges. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Or most everyone. There'd only been a few souls brave enough to take on a head-case like her.

As she made her way through the club, the air shifted and a tantalizing scent from the not-too-distant past caught her attention. An expensive cologne she'd recognize anywhere, though she didn't know it by name. Annie's gaze sought refuge, seeking out the familiarity her body already craved.

He was there. She could feel him. Just as she'd felt him before.

And she was right.

Now, it was his turn to feel her.

Off to her right, at a lonely table for one, sat the handsome man with the dark-blonde hair. Impeccably dressed, a silver cross playing peek-a-boo between the open buttons of his dress shirt. The ends of a red tie draped along either side of his neck. Their eyes connected. Annie's tongue traced along her bottom lip and she thrust her breast forward,  her nipples pressing against the sheer fabric of her top.

The man didn't look away. Instead he leaned forward, his fantastic blue eyes widening ever so slightly. Beckoning her. The same way they'd beckoned back then.

Annie pursed her lips and strolled toward his table, hips swaying, lashes batting, all the while taking him in. The hair. The knowing look in his eyes. The necklace. The thick, gold band suffocating his fourth finger. "Did you wander away from home?" she asked, one brow arched in a way she knew drew men in. Her sassy, flirty, come-fuck-me invitation.

He leaned back in his chair, confident yet tense. "I didn't wander," he said in a lazy drawl. "I knew exactly where I was going."

One side of her mouth curved up. "You do look like a man with intent." Annie walked closer until she stood directly in front of him. "I like that."

"I was hoping you'd be here." The man reached forward, his fingertips trailing up the outer flesh of her thigh. "You're—"

"Anastasia," she said, cutting him off. "My name's Anastasia."

"Anastasia." Her name faltered on his lips. "How much for a private dance—Anastasia?"

"I don't come cheap." Annie leaned forward, giving him a full view down her top. "But I do promise to make it worth your while." She'd show him a good time. Let him see exactly what he'd been missing. What he could have had long before now. She grabbed both ends of the red, silk tie and gave it a tug, pulling him to his feet. "Come with me."

He stood much taller than her, and his lean physique sent her pulse into a tailspin. Annie grasped his hand as she lead him through the crowded club and up the stairs to a private room, thoughts of everything she planned to do to him racing through her mind. He may have turned her down before, but this time would be different. He'd be like putty in her hands, allowing her to do to him what she'd only fantasized about in the past.

Annie sat him in a chair. The dim lights and slow, sexy music egged her on. She was ready for this, more than ready. And the burning desire lighting up his eyes told her he was ready, too. Finally. Poking her knee between his legs, she forced them apart, allowing her the opportunity to move closer.

Once again, his fingers found her thighs, and very slowly he let them travel upward, underneath the short hem of her skirt. She swatted them away.

"Hey, that's not fair," he responded in a teasing, raspy voice. His blue eyes met hers before taking another tour of her body. "If I'm paying good money for this, I want to feel it."

Annie grasped his chin in her hand and lifted his gaze. "Oh, you're gonna feel it. But only when I let you. I'm in charge." She gave him a smirk. "Those are the rules."

"Those are the rules, huh?" His mouth pulled up at the corner. "Well, I guess you're the boss then. By all means, do with me what you wish."

"Oh, I plan to." Annie flashed a savage grin as her fingers reached for his belt. A low grunt escaped from the back of his throat and she could see a bulge already forming berneath the fabric of his dress pants. Without hesitation, she gave it a rub. "I've had a bad day, but things are certainly looking—up. I wanna feel you inside of me," she said in a strangled voice. "You better brace yourself, cause I'm about to fuck your brains out ... Mr. Professor."