Page 34

FOUR

Lula

The room is spinning and my face is a thousand degrees as Scotch’s fingers slide between mine, tugging me onto the small dance floor in front of the stage where girls in pasties and barely-there thongs teeter and twirl on acrylic heels that have to be an insurance company’s nightmare.

“Wait. What—” I drag my feet, stalling trying to figure out if I’ve been dropped into an episode of the Twilight Zone or if this is really happening.

“No waiting.” His rough hand swoops up my back, claiming my cheek then my neck before it settles in that perfect spot in my lower back sending a cascade of heat and fever over my skin. His other hand grips mine, holding it out to the side as we start to sway and grind…

Holy shit, he’s grinding on my hip and his grinder is hard.

He smells like a man should. It’s a scent without definition. Maybe a hint of leather, spun with fresh clean man soap topped off with a hint of seductive spice. It’s undefinable but perfect and seems to have a direct line to the clenching between my legs.

I thought I was going to faint on stage. It took every ounce of will and focus I had not topple over into an embarrassing lump of Lula Laurence losing it. But, as soon as I raised the microphone, closed my eyes and let the notes of the music flow through me, I disappeared.

I became Lula the star. Lula the triumphant. Lula Fierce.

Then, when the song ended and I opened my eyes, the thick of where I was darkened the momentary splendor.

But, a new darkness is lighting me up right now. I’m dancing with my hot as hell stepbrother while everyone is watching, except my mother, thank God.

This is a minefield. He’s my stepbrother and if I get into something here I can’t handle, I risk screwing up this new life my mother seems to believe is her ticket to happy-land.

The bass thumps as Scotch spins me around, his hand on my back pulling me tighter and I feel his heart beating against mine. My feet are in the way, not light and feminine like the acrylic stilettos the other girls are wearing and once again, I feel like a fish on roller skates.

“Shhhh.” Scotch hisses in my ear as though he can hear my thoughts. “Don’t think. Just feel it. Pretend our bodies are one body, just let go and let me take you.”

Is he talking about the dance or…?

The drenched cotton between my legs is proof of my new depravity. Scotch is hot as hell, the scruff along his jawline rasping against my temple as he releases his hand from my back for a moment to grab mine and lead it around the back of his neck.

“Just hold on. No one is going to laugh at my sister. Not while I’m around.” His voice is thick and hypnotic like the afternoon drive time DJ on WRIF the local rock station.

Visions of holding on to him in a very different way swirl in my mind. I imagine rocking against him as he holds me on his lap, whispering for me to just let go as I moan and he drives what I feel against my hip inside me, owning me, taking me…

“That’s it.” His voice rumbles in my ear as the thumping music and his arms cloak me in a dangerous wonder. “I feel it. You’re giving in.”

Nothing exists in this moment except our bodies moving together. The hardness against me and the low growl I feel rumbling from Scotch’s chest.

“Good girl.”

What was that? Wet warmth pools between my legs as I shudder against him.

I’m inexperienced, that’s a given, but there’s an effect those two words just had on me I cannot understand and could never have predicted. I’m melting, lust pulsing in every cell as I press my aching breasts against the his chest.

Manic lust rages through me. A flood gate has opened and I want to do and say things that before this moment were so foreign, they didn’t even live in my brain.

His hand at the small of my back lowers, it’s not a complete ass grab but it’s close and he shoves his hard thigh between my legs and practically mounts me on top. He’s rocking me back and forth until I see stars.

The grinding starts then it’s faster, rougher as his whispers in my ear turn torrid.

“You like your big brother giving you a ride, don’t you? That wet heat between your legs is giving you away Lula.”

“What?” I arch back only to see him smile for the first time and it’s like the damn heavens open up. His lips are in a twisted smirk, one small chip out of a front tooth only making him sexier.

“Just playing with you, little girl. Putting on a show. These girls would kill for this dance, I want them all to know, you’re family now and no one messes with family.”

“I—I—okay,” I manage, then, “They’re staring.”

I take a quick look to see most of the dancers shooting glances our way as they turn and shake in front of the patrons waving money.

“Of course they are. I’ve never danced before. Never poked a dollar into their g-strings. Not that they haven’t wanted me to.”

“Uh huh, that ego of yours is taking up most of this dance floor.”

He sniffs, then tugs me against him harder, my face against his neck, breathing him in as I bite off a little moan.

“I felt that,” he hisses, working me against his leg until I can barely see and a spinning sort of shiver races up from my crotch to the top of my head. He chuckles, then his lips brush my ear. “I definitely felt that.”

Wetness coats my sex, my nipples so tight I whimper as two of the dancers gyrate around, spinning then bumping their asses into mine in coordinated unison nearly knocking me onto my knees.

But Scotch’s grip keeps me solidly on my feet. I catch a flash of white out of the corner of my eye of my mother taking the stage, wrapping a leg around the silver pole and starting to spin…the music tempo changes. Faster. Faster. Louder. Louder.

Pumping bass and flashing lights take it all from bizarre to surreal. It’s feral. Out of control.

“Kill me, please?” I plead to the closest ally I have right now, my new stepbrother.

“I’ll do better than that.” He whips me around, shooting a hard look at the dancers watching our every move, my mother pulling down her top on stage, exposing her bra, and Scotch’s lips are on mine.

This is madness. My mother on a stripper pole, dancers look like they want to throw me in the Detroit River wearing concrete galoshes and my new stepbrother is kissing me. On the lips.

His tongue is down my throat and the clenching deep in my womb turns desperate, urgent and I’ve never wanted a man like this.

I kiss back, fuck it. My mom’s on the stripper pole, my dreams are in the dumpster and my dad and his business are hanging on by a thread. What’s a kiss going to hurt?

Swiping my tongue around his, I lean in, running my hands up his chest, taking two handfuls of his shirt and doing what he told me to do.

I hold on tight as waves of heat and sticky wetness soak my panties as Scotch groans and his hand grips the back of my neck while the other helps itself to a handful of my ass.

Somewhere down in the marrow of my bones, I know Scotch is already part of me. This sensation that he’s the one I’ve been waiting for. That love story I thought I’d never have.

Our lips slide and slip as his hips pump against me in little pulses. He tastes like magic and Juicy Fruit gum. I gasp when we finally come up for air, dizzy as I hear my mother’s voice through the thumping music.

“Lula!” She’s yelling now.

God, if she’s said my name like that ten million times, she’s said it once.

“Let’s get out of here.” I search Scotch’s face, hoping he really is the ally I need right now.

“You want me to take you away? You want someone to make you feel in danger and safe at the same time?”

I nod, mouth gaping open, my pulse ticking like a time bomb. “I want a lot of things. If you’ll help me…”

“I knew that hot little pussy on my leg was calling for help. Let’s go.”