REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER THREE

Popping an unlit blunt between my lips, I watched the Junoesque blonde rise from her knees before me. Her cheeks glowed scarlet, and her hard-set blue eyes dazzled in triumph. With a brush of her fingertips, she wiped the taste of my arousal from her pouty lips and attired herself. All black and, if you are well proportioned, revealing is the club's uniform for barmaids: tight shorts, fitted vest and six-inch stilettos alongside a decent enough face to entice male spendthrifts.

Natalie Dalton is the club's head barmaid and a royal pain in my arse. I know better than to get too comfortable or complacent with women, especially a woman prone to attachment akin to her, but I am susceptible to her lascivious charm. After all, she made it too easy for me to stick around when promising a no-strings-attached arrangement.

Flinging straightened hair over one shoulder, she tucked her ample breasts into pink lace, clipping the lycra halterneck in place.

Matching a flame, I lit the end of the blunt, inhaling haze. "Macallan."

She went to the minibar to pour neat whiskey. "Cherry was looking for you earlier."

Cherry runs a tight shift with the dancers. "Right."

"I think she encountered an issue with clients in the sapphire suite." Setting two glasses onto the mahogany desk, she popped open a compact mirror and swept nude gloss over her lips. "Should I send her up?"

Tucking my flaccid cock away, I zipped my trousers and relaxed in the leather wing chair. "No."

Unclasping beauty products, she re-applied something strikingly pink across her cheeks. "Well, should I tell her to swing by later?"

"No," I spoke monosyllabically, having lost the patience to converse.

"I am unsatisfied," she teased, gazing into my inexpressive eyes. "I can still taste you in my mouth. When will you return the favour?"

I was mildly irritated by her line of questioning.

"Sex will suffice." Uprooting the small plastic bag from her bra, she emptied cocaine onto the desk. "I will even do all the work." Separating lines with a debit card, she rolled a twenty-pound note, snorted blow into both nostrils and, unable to resist irritation, itched her nose. "Do you want some?"

I raised a hand, declining drugs and sex. "You should get back to work."

"I have ten more minutes." She tossed whiskey down her throat. "So, I have a date this weekend."

Exhaling smoke halos, I kicked my feet onto the desk. "Yeah?"

"He is a fireman." Misinterpreting silence as intrigue, she prolonged our one-way conversation by elucidating further. "He is also a club regular. You might know him." Even if I did know the man, I had no interest in Natalie's sexual affairs. She can fuck him six ways from Sunday for all I care.