Afraid To Fly
The Fearless Series: Book Two
I’d like to tell you that I’m ok.
That the meaningless sex with countless women has somehow numbed the pain. That it’s deciphered the constant confusion in my head. Eased the self-hatred that sinks into my gut every time I look in the mirror.
I’d like to tell you that time heals all wounds.
That we evolve and grow into well-adjusted, stable adults, set on a path to right the world’s wrongs. That we are not our past…we are not our pain.
I want to tell you all those things. Hell, I want to believe all those things. But I’d be lying. I’m good at that. Living a lie is the only way I truly know how to survive. But the day I saw her, I stopped surviving. I stopped existing. And for the first time in 24 years, I started living.
She brought me back to life. Set me free and sent my soul soaring. Made this useless shell of a man feel like…something. Something whole and real and good.
She saved me. Although she believes I wasn’t even worth saving.
It was if my body had known what my soul needed to mend itself from the verbal assault that had left me open and bleeding. Sex was that healing balm for me. And this was exactly the place where I could find it.
None of the dancers here were prostitutes, and I never paid to get laid. Ever. They fucked me because they wanted me. And I fucked them because I needed them. It was an even trade.
Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t stick my dick in just anything, and other than Cherri, had only been intimate with two other girls there: Skylar, a hot sophomore at UNC Charlotte, stripping her way through college, and Velvet, a tattooed, purple-haired vixen from England who fucked like a porn star and cursed like a sailor.
Right now, I needed Velvet. If anyone could make me forget the last twenty minutes, Raven’s razor-sharp words and myself, it was her.
My legs carried me inside, despite the numbness I felt. I didn’t want to be here, but I needed to be. And once I had the soft silkiness and warmth of a woman’s skin against me, I’d feel a helluva lot better. Luckily, Velvet was there for a day shift, working the lunch crowd in her usual getup of velvet and chains. Today she wore a cut-out thonged romper that left little to the imagination. And that was fine by me. I was tired of thinking anyway.
“Hey love,” she smiled as I approached. Her lips were painted a deep, dark eggplant purple that almost looked black. I’d have the color smeared all over me within the hour, most of it in places invisible to the public.
I didn’t waste any time. I didn’t have it in me to go through the motions and pretend I was here for anything other than sex. I leaned in close to her ear, letting my lips brush her earlobe in that sensual way I knew would get her hot, and whispered, “Back room in 10.” Then I quickly made my way to the bar to slam a shot of tequila.
She was there when I arrived, lounging on a plush loveseat with her heeled boots propped up on the arm. She looked at me with sin gleaming in her heavily lined eyes and gave me a slow, Cheshire grin. “Someone’s awfully anxious today.”
I was already loosening my tie as I stalked towards her and said, “Clothes off, boots on and get on your knees.”