Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1) (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

If only work could always be this entertaining.

Twenty months ago

Meet me at the club.

Courtney glared at the phone screen, a strange concoction of anger and desire raging inside her. Rather than give in to the longing that had seemingly taken control of her entire fucking life for the past four months, Courtney responded with:

No.

Tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her, she turned her attention back to the television.

She’d come home from work eager to sleep but found herself too wired. So, she’d made popcorn, grabbed her always handy bowl of M&Ms, the television remote, a glass of wine, and flopped onto the couch after putting on her pajamas.

Just as she got interested in the show again, her phone buzzed.

It wasn’t a request.

Tempted to throw her phone through the plate-glass window, she didn’t bother to pick it up. She wasn’t giving in to Max’s demands, no matter what her body wanted.

For the past four freaking months, she’d spent endless hours with the man, a majority of those naked with him buried balls deep inside her. They spent more time fucking than they did anything else, and now, she found herself ensconced in his world, seeing the nasty side and hating herself more and more each day because she couldn’t seem to find a way out. Actually, truth was, she wasn’t looking for a way out, and that concerned her deeply.

She didn’t have a problem with their physical relationship because she happened to enjoy the way Max fucked her. And she didn’t necessarily have to like him to enjoy the pleasure he could give her. But in the past couple of weeks, she’d noticed a change in him. Something was obviously going down, and he was keeping her on the outside as he’d always done, despite her every effort to infiltrate his organization.

And that was the very reason she needed to stay away from him. He was a job, pure and simple. This thing between them, it would never go anywhere, because he didn’t trust her, and she’d given him no reason to.

As of late, she’d started talking to Max’s security team, trying to see if they’d be willing to open up. She didn’t usually make much progress, but she was getting closer to a few of them. Eventually, she prayed, one of them would give in and tell her what she needed to know.

Granted, Leyton seemed to be on to her plan and had warned her off, telling her that Max would kill anyone who betrayed him. She’d only briefly considered this but hadn’t heeded it. As far as she was concerned, Max would do what he needed to do. As would she. If she could get someone to give her information, Max didn’t ever have to know. And that was what she was working on, keeping it from him and still accomplishing her goal.

There was no doubt about it, though, their physical relationship had taken precedence over the job, and Courtney didn’t have the strength, nor the desire, to end it. Never in her life had she met a man like Max, a man who knew his way around a woman’s body so effortlessly. He could practically make her come with just the heated look in his eyes.

But that wasn’t all there was between them. When they were alone, she saw a different side to him. A softer side. Max would kill for her, lay down his life for her. Although they didn’t speak of feelings, they were there, silently swirling around them, bringing them closer, holding them together, making them both stronger.

But it was time for her to put her foot down. She wasn’t getting any further with her investigation, yet she found herself deeper and deeper under Max’s spell. Not a place she wanted to be. If she wasn’t careful, before long, she’d wind up in a situation she wouldn’t be able to get herself out of. Since that wasn’t an option, because she refused to live in the dark underworld that he lived in, Courtney needed to put some distance between them.

If you’re not at the club in half an hour, I’m coming to you.

Shit.

It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened to show up at her house. Since she lived in a compound with the rest of her family—a group that fought against everything that Max stood for—that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. And she knew that Max didn’t bluff. If he said he was going to do something, he would do it.

Grabbing the phone, she typed out a response.

Fine. I’ll see you in an hour.

Courtney threw the phone on the couch and then trudged to her bedroom to change clothes, all the while reminding herself just how much she hated Max.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, she arrived at the club. Rather than wait in the line that wrapped around the building, she waltzed right up to the bouncer—an immensely sexy black man they called Rock—and smiled.

“Good evening, Ms. Kogan. Mr. Adorite is expecting you.”

Of course he was.

She was allowed through the door as Rock spoke into the mic on his shirt, informing whomever that she was making her way inside.

Devil’s Playground was a wildly popular Dallas nightclub. Although the bouncers were strict with the rules of the house, she knew that there was quite a bit of illegal activity that went on there. Aside from the booze—the only legal substance in the place—that flowed like water, there was an abundance of drugs and sex that came into play on a nightly basis.

Though the club was boasted as a high-class establishment and even managed to appear that way to the unsuspecting eye, Courtney wasn’t oblivious to the whores who trolled inside, many of whom were actually entangled in Max’s organization. Not that he laid claim to them, but it hadn’t taken long for Courtney to get the gist of Max’s so-called land development business. It was a front for all the illegal activities he ran—including guns, racketeering, drugs, and, yes, whores. The only thing she hadn’t been able to firmly tie him to was the drugs. At least not yet.

“Ms. Kogan.”

When Courtney reached the end of the hallway that would lead to the open floor of the club, she looked up to see Leyton waiting for her. She rolled her eyes at him but then allowed him to usher her through the back hallway, then up the staircase that led to Max’s private office.

“He’s waiting,” Leyton informed her, opening the door and allowing her inside before closing it behind her.

“An hour, huh?” Max asked, not looking up from the paper he was reading at his desk.

Courtney didn’t respond immediately. She set her clutch—which contained her phone and her gun—on the small side table and walked to the window that overlooked the club, watching the strobe lights flash on the mass of people down below. She knew that the people could see her if they happened to glance up. Although the glass was bulletproof, it wasn’t mirrored or tinted to keep outsiders from seeing in. According to Max, he liked it that way. She sensed that was the voyeur in him returning the favor. There was no doubt about it, the man had some serious sexual kinks.

When Max didn’t say anything after several minutes, she moved to the black leather sofa and flopped down with a huff. She expected Max to at least look at her, but he didn’t. He stayed focused on whatever it was he was doing, which irritated the shit out of her.

“Why’d you summon me?” she questioned, her irritation getting the best of her.

“Come here,” he commanded, still not looking up.

Courtney inhaled sharply at the rough tone of his voice. She’d heard that before. Max was the type of man who expected people to jump when he snapped his fingers. In recent weeks, Courtney had stopped jumping, and she knew it was only pissing him off, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She wasn’t trying to be recalcitrant, she was merely trying to remind Max that she wasn’t one of his whores. She wasn’t at his beck and call.

“Over here. Now,” he growled, his gaze lifting to meet hers.

His eyes widened when he took in her appearance, and a chill danced down her spine. She’d selected the outfit just for him, figuring if he could play hard ball, so could she. A strange flutter erupted in her belly as she saw the heat in his golden eyes. Sure, he was pissed, but he was also turned on. Why that pleased her, she had no idea, but the next thing she knew, she was walking over to his desk.

Max placed his hand on her thigh, sliding it upward. “You’re not wearing your gun.”

Courtney shook her head. “But don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

The outfit she’d opted to wear left little to the imagination, which meant that the S&W lightweight sub-compact .380 ACP pistol couldn’t possibly be hidden beneath her skirt.

“Panties off,” he instructed.

Courtney gave him a go-to-hell glare.

He didn’t seem at all intimidated, but she was, especially when his eyes narrowed. She lifted the short black skirt and slid her fingers into the band of her panties, pushing them down her legs and working them over the knee-high boots she wore. She reached down and retrieved them, placing them on his desk.

“Sit down.”

Looking around, she tried to figure out where he wanted her to sit. “Where?”

Max rolled his chair back and nodded toward his desk. Courtney looked at him, confused.

“Sit. Down,” he snarled.

Realizing he wanted her to sit
on
his desk, she stepped in front of him and then perched her ass on the edge. His glare pretty much singed her, and she knew he wasn’t in the mood to be pushed, so she hefted herself up onto the desk, facing him.

He rolled closer. “Feet on the arms of the chair,” he instructed, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, the bunch of his biceps visible beneath the short sleeves of his polo.

It didn’t take her long to realize what direction this was headed. For a fraction of a second, she thought that she should’ve been appalled that he’d expect her to put herself on display for him, but the desire that infused her erased all concern. Her traitorous body did as he asked, and she slowly lifted each foot, placing the toes of her boots on the arms of his chair, which left her in a rather precarious situation, her legs spread wide, the short, flowing skirt doing little to cover her.

Not that it mattered, because when his next command came, Courtney knew her vulnerability was exactly what he was after.

And angry at him or not, she was powerless to resist him.

□»«□»«□»«□

“Lift your skirt,” Max demanded, his body coiled tightly as he watched Courtney get comfortable on his desk.

She was tempted to defy his every command; he had sensed it from the second she’d stepped through the office door. Hell, he’d known since she’d denied his initial request.

But he wasn’t in the mood.

As it was, he was having a damn hard time keeping his hands off her. More so when he’d noticed what she was wearing.

The short black skirt was just long enough to cover her ass, and the silky black halter barely covered her breasts, the sides peeking out from the flimsy material. Most of her midriff was bare, as was her back. He was beginning to wonder why she’d even bothered with clothes at all, for as little as they covered her.

But the boots… Those were a nice touch. Black leather with four-inch heels… Yeah, he wanted to see her in nothing but the fucking boots.

Had he allowed his need to take over, he would’ve already fucked her twice in the few minutes she’d been standing in his office. He was that wound up, and it wasn’t entirely her fault, but she was his release. She was the only good thing in his world at the moment, and he needed her. Needed her with a desperation he didn’t understand.

So, keeping his hands to himself was the only way he could keep her safe from him at the moment.

Max’s gaze traveled between her splayed thighs, admiring the silky-smooth golden skin she revealed. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

“Either lift the skirt or I’m gonna rip it off you,” he told her roughly, keeping his arms firmly pinned across his chest.

Courtney slowly lifted the short black skirt, revealing her beautiful bare pussy to him. He drank in the sight of her spread out before him. He wished she was naked—wearing only the boots—but he knew better than to do that here. Anyone could walk in at any given moment. Not that he’d give a shit, but he was trying to think about Courtney.

For the last couple of months, he’d pushed her limits, further and further each time they were together, but she wasn’t quite ready for all he wanted from her. So, he was trying to take things slow, ease her into it gradually.

“What’s wrong, Max?” Courtney asked, holding her skirt to her waist as he admired her petal-soft folds, glistening with her desire.

Oh, yes, she was wet for him. He knew this turned her on as much as it did him, which was part of the reason he continued to push her. But he mostly did it for selfish reasons. He needed her; he needed the solace she provided him, even if she didn’t realize what she gave him. It wasn’t as though he’d shared that with her, nor did he have any intention of doing so.

“Nothing,” he responded, meeting her gaze.

“Talk to me,” she said, her glossy mouth tempting him. He wanted to order her to her knees at his feet, to make her take his dick in her mouth, to blow his mind with the sweet suction of her lips.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

“This isn’t about me,” he told her.

“It’s always about you,” she snapped.