my ass, bitch! You were fucking him! This ain’t that kind of place. If you wanna whore, you need to take that shit somewhere else.”
Had Mac been in the frame of mind to laugh, he would have done so, outright, at the comment. He knew for a fact the Sweet Kitty offered much more than stripping and lap dances, if the price was right.
But at the moment, he had more pressing things to take care of. He tightened his hold on Marks’s hand, and watched in satisfaction when Damian nearly buckled to the floor in pain.
He had been completely enthralled by Sin’s overwhelming, yet unique, womanly smell; the scent of their combined lust; and the way she danced in his lap, grinding her sweet pussy on his dick, as she uttered the small, helpless cries of pleasure.
He wanted nothing more than to unzip his pants, release himself, grab her by the back of her hair, and slam his body into hers, repeatedly, driving his dick as far into her wet, slick heat as he could, until he reached the back of her womb.
Mac couldn’t believe he’d gotten so caught up that he hadn’t noticed Marks approaching them.
From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her dancing on the stage, working her agile body on the thick pole, she’d been working him into a sexual frenzy.
All frustrated sexual thoughts were cast aside as he easily crushed Marks’s hand within his. He ignored Damian’s frantic cries for Mac to release him. Instead, he concentrated solely on Sienna as she stood helpless. A red haze of anger clouded his vision.
“If you so much as lay a goddamn pinky finger on her, I’ll rip your ass apart.” He raised his other fist, the image of smashing the motherfucker’s face paramount in his mind.
Sienna leaped from her crouching position and grabbed Mac’s thick forearm, moments before it connected with Damian’s jaw.
“Stop it, please! Just let him go!”
It took both of her hands to circle his thick bicep, yet her fingers couldn’t connect around the corded muscles bunching beneath them.
For long, tense moments she held on, until she felt his muscles loosen. Still, he maintained his grasp on Damian’s fist. Sienna glanced at Damian and saw the deep-red flush line his pale skin. She thought if Mac didn’t release his hold soon, he’d break Damian’s hand.
Mac turned to her, his jaw clenched, an angry glint in his eyes the only testimony to his rage. “Get your stuff. You’re coming with me,” he said.
“What? She ain’t going no—” Damian’s words were cut off in a strangled gasp.
He wanted to take her with him! She wanted to leave with him, leave Damian and the Sweet Kitty far behind. God, she wanted to go, so badly. She wanted to run and never look back.
“Ja-Jacob,” Damian uttered the one name, he knew, would keep her in check.
She couldn’t leave.
Her brother’s face flashed before her eyes. Despite the pain in Damian’s eyes, the threat of what he could, and would, do to Jacob shone brightly in his eyes. He’d come after her. After Jacob.
With a cry in her heart, she turned to Mac. “I can’t.”
His unwavering stare held a hint of softness, one at odds with his overall hard exterior. The look in his eyes silently asked her if that was what she wanted. Sienna could only turn away, unable to hold his gaze.
He turned back to Damian, any traces of softness left his eyes, and his face hardened.
“I’m watching your ass.”
He finally released his hold on Damian, and Damian leaped from his cowering position, massaging his knuckles. He turned to the small group of gawking onlookers.
“This ain’t no damn show. Get the fuck out of here or go back to what your asses came here for!”
He straightened his clothes and reached for Sienna.
Mac grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him close, Damian’s feet dangling inches from the floor.
“Remember what I said, motherfucker. I’m watching you. Touch her again and you’re a dead man.” With that, he released Damian and strode out of the club.
Sienna watched him leave, her heart thudding loudly in her ears, wanting to cry out for him to come back to her.
She turned to Damian. “Don’t you ever, ever think your ass can get away with pulling shit like that with me. I will leave one day. And there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it!” She straightened her shoulders, swallowed her fear, and looked him dead in the eye.
7
God, what in hell was she going to do? How would she ever escape Damian or the club now? How could she, when she knew Damian was capable, and willing, to carry out his ugly threats against her brother?
After Mac left, Damian told her to get on the stage, excusing her from any further lap dances. She didn’t question why, but gratefully left the floor and prepared to dance.
Sienna was on pins and needles for the rest of the evening. Between fear of Damian’s reprisal and furtive glances over the audience looking for Mac, she missed steps and performed on automatic, not into the dance or the stage as she normally was.
When Damian left the club early, leaving his manager to close, some of the queasy feelings in her gut went away.
The evening passed without a return appearance from Mac. For that, Sienna didn’t know if she should be happy or sad.
In the end, she was grateful when the club closed and she cashed out for the night, collecting her money, with no more interactions from either man.
Presently she couldn’t think about any of the drama that had transpired earlier. She needed time. Time to plan and to figure out what—how—she could get away, and take her brother with her.
Her first priority was to make sure Jacob was safe. Everything else was secondary to Jacob’s protection. If that meant she had to figure out another way to get away from Damian, then she would, without jeopardizing Jacob’s safety.
She sighed and shoved aside the fear for the moment. She couldn’t wait to get home. As soon as she stepped through the door, she planned to snatch the itchy wig off her head, take a long, hot shower, and crawl into bed, assuming the fetal position and going to sleep.
“I’ll probably cry myself to sleep thinking of all this mess,” she murmured out loud.
As soon as she spoke, she knew she sounded pitiful, but damn if it wasn’t true. A good cry, get it all out, and then she could wrap her brain around what she needed to do in order to save both her brother and herself.
The cool air brushed against her skin, and goose bumps peppered her flesh when she stepped out of the club. She gathered the ends of her old faux-fur coat closer, wrapping the ties around her body to ward off the chill.
She bowed her head while the wind whipped the strands of the blond wig around
