Playing Dirty

Twelve

Her fiance was a damn lucky man. Ryan's gut twisted at the thought of the other man touching Sam, kissing and making love to her. Did she respond with as much fire and passion as she had with him?

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he scanned the text.

Meyers: You coming tonight?

He frowned at the words until the meaning registered. His old college housemate Landon Meyers was the owner of a chain of exclusive nightclubs, most of which Ryan had helped him build. Tonight was the grand opening of Sylph, his second club in Manhattan, and one Ryan'd had a big hand in designing.

Sliding the screen open, he typed a reply.

Ryan: Nah, I'm beat. Had a long day. Congrats on the opening!

He hit send, and Meyers replied almost instantly.

Meyers: Nerd. I know the new God of War drops tonight and you'll be glued to your PS4 all night. Don't you know pixel pussy can never replace the real thing? C'mon bro, let me hook you up with some of the best ass in Manhattan who'd blow your socks off. You'll thank me.

Ryan smiled and shook his head in fond exasperation. Meyers was always trying to set him up with one from his bevy of long limbed, sultry women whom he seemed to gather in spades. Probably helped that the guy was richer than Croesus, and looked like a fucking demigod.

Ryan: This new GoW doesn't feature naked women, idiot. And no thanks, not interested in a blow job.

Meyers: Dork.

Ryan: Prick. Have fun

Grinning at the eggplant emoji Meyers sent in reply, Ryan tossed his phone on the passenger seat and started the engine, listening as his baby came to life with a satisfying growl.

****

Two hours later, he growled in frustration and tossed aside the control pad, the game doing nothing to stop his mind from wandering to Sam.

Images of Sam wrapped in the arms of some faceless guy, moaning the way she'd moaned when his tongue had been in her mouth, plagued his mind to the demise of his concentration.

He flopped back against the futon, hand over his eyes and groaned. Why the fuck was he so attracted to an unavailable woman? What kind of sick joke was Fate playing on him?

This whole thing was ridiculous. There were thousands of available women who would welcome him into their beds, should he chose to put himself out there. Women who wouldn't send his conscience plunging into the murk for entertaining thoughts of fucking them against his desk, or the elevator, or his bed or...

Shit! He reached down and cupped his aching balls through his sweats, squeezing a bit in the hopes of relieving some of the pressure.

It didn't help at all.

Uttering another curse, he rose from the futon, scooping up his phone on the way to the bathroom. His fingers flew over the screen, as he typed a message to Meyers.

Ryan: Changed my mind. Will be there in an hour.

He hoped Meyers wasn't too busy to see the text. Not that it mattered really. Meyers had his name permanently on the VIP list, so all he had to do was show up.

It took slightly more than an hour, but Ryan was soon stepping past the line that stretched endlessly, hands thrust in the pockets of the black leather jacket he wore over a red shirt, and fitted black jeans.

Intending to have more than one drink, he'd chosen to leave his car at home, calling an Uber instead. As he strode past, a group of three women, dressed to the nines in the skimpiest clothes he'd ever seen, smiled at him. He smiled back, but didn't linger, walking up to the bouncers standing by the doors.

"Silverton." He gave his name, and after checking it on his tablet, one of the bouncers motioned him in.

The music hit him the minute he stepped into the club, strobe lights and Friday night revelers surrounding him on all sides. He stood, disoriented for a minute, until a woman, dressed in a short, black sheath approached.

"Mr. Silverton?" She inquired, and when he nodded, wondering if he knew her from somewhere, she beckoned for him to follow her.

"Do I know you?" He asked, trailing after her, his gaze dropping momentarily to the mesmerizing sway of her hips and long legs as she walked. He raised his gaze back to her face in time to catch her knowing smile.

"Landon asked me to look out for you."

"Oh."

He followed her, weaving through gyrating bodies, all the while the heady beat pouring from speakers reverberated in his skull.

The VIP section was on the second floor, an oval room that seemed to dangle over the dance floor with no visible support, mirrored glass over the walls and floor created the illusion to its occupants of being suspended over thin air, the floor below visible from the inside, but to those outside, the glass was opaque, offering a measure of privacy for Landon's exclusive patrons.

The concept and execution had been Ryan's idea, and seeing it completed gave him satisfaction.

"Hey Dork!" Landon Meyers rose from a pristine white couch, drink in hand to welcome his friend. He pulled Ryan into a one handed hug, his handsome face beaming. "Glad to see you could make it."

A/N

Hey everyone,

So, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I applied to Radish and was accepted into their writer's program. Yay!

Now, onto the bad news. I will be taking down this story from Wattpad for posting on Radish, where it will be updated until complete. The chapters will be available on Freemium plan. What this means, is that after the first three chapters, coins will be required to unlock the subsequent episodes. However, please don't fret, for those who cannot afford to purchase coins, the story will be available to read for free after a certain amount of time has passed. Then, I will re upload the chapters back to Wattpad, but it won't happen for a while.

I am exceedingly grateful for your support, patience and encouragement over the course of this story. I know there are readers who have waited for me to finish the story for years now, and I hope you will bear with me and understand. If you can, I would love your support on Radish as well, but if you can't, I still love and appreciate you.

Thank you for being more than friends,

Rose.