Scorpio Read online

  I shouldn’t care what some random bartender at a bar I’ve never been to, and probably won’t return to, thinks of me. But there’s something about Madison, and I do care. And it does make me nervous for her to be here alone. She’s right, the door should’ve been locked, and anyone could’ve come in here. She’s lucky it was me.

  She gapes at my audacity. “Excuse me?”

  I smile, approaching the bar and sitting down slowly, several stools away from where she’s standing. “Look, do whatever it is you need to do . . .” I say, gesturing around the bar. “I’ll just hang out and make sure you’re safe, if that’s okay. Please.”

  I think it’s the ‘please’ that does it because after I plead my case, so simply and honestly, she lets out a disbelieving laugh but doesn’t kick me out. “You don’t quite strike me as the knight in shining armor type, and I’m sure as fuck not a damsel in distress. I’m fine.”

  I lean on the bar, keeping my distance and letting her set the pace. “You are fine. And I’m sure you’ve done this a hundred times before, but it’ll help me sleep better if I know you closed up with no more problems tonight.”

  Madison scowls at me but leans on the bar herself. “It was a weird night. Must be a full moon or something. Ahh-wooo.” She smiles a little, laughing at her own poor imitation of a wolf howl, and I smile too because she still hasn’t kicked me out.

  “Good. It’s settled then.” I knock on the bar top once, like a judge closing session, and hope that will be enough to appease her because I can sense she still wants to argue.

  Madison looks speechless for a moment, then laughs, picking up a cloth from the bar and sliding it my direction. “If you’re going to stay here under the guise of ‘keeping me safe’, at least make yourself useful.”

  Cleaning might not be my strong suit. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have never wiped down a dirty table in my life. We have staff for that. But if that’s what it takes to stay with Madison, I’m game. And the fact that she’s giving in so easily makes me think she actually wants my company too. “Of course, I’m happy to help. With anything you need.” I let the double entendre of my words add gravel to my voice, and I see the hitch of Madison’s breath. She’s teasing, keeping things light and being cautious, but she’s not unaffected by me. Thank fuck.

  “I don’t need your help with anything,” she’s quick to respond, but she’s wiping the surface of the bar with focused concentration. “But I don’t want to be here all night either, so get started with the tables by the window and work your way around the floor.” She motions at the mish-mash of tables and booths around the room as if she’s my boss.

  I hold my tongue but smirk as I grab the towel and start wiping the tables down as she instructed. As we work, Madison looks over. “What happened to your friend? Should I expect him to waltz in the door any minute too?”

  “No, I locked the door. Can’t be too careful, you know. Any old riffraff could come in,” I say, winking at her. “But I sent Robbie home in an Uber. I’ll grab another one when we’re done.”

  Madison pauses, then keeps cleaning. “What a knightly thing to do.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s all you. I never said I was a knight. But if I were, I’d be your knight. Not his.”

  Madison lowers her head, but I don’t miss the blush of pink that rushes across her cheeks. Fuck, how does she do it? She’s so sexy in every mood. I was just as rock hard when she was smiling and sweet as I was when she was yelling and raging. And the blushing bashfulness is a temptation all its own. It’s an odd realization, and it makes me want to test my response to her every whim. Or maybe test her responses to me.

  “So, about my getting pissed off . . .” she starts.

  “Yes?” I ask, encouraging her to continue.

  “You do realize that I have a reputation to maintain, right? This is my job, my bar, my customers when I’m on shift. And I can’t get white-knighted or they’ll never respect me. I can handle whatever needs to be done.”

  I sigh, knowing she’s right and that maybe I overstepped more than I’d like to admit. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I do understand. And while you most definitely can handle it, you shouldn’t have to.”

  She laughs, a full belly riot. “You know, for a complete stranger, you sure do have a lot of opinions on what I should be doing with my life.”

  I grin at her. “What can I say? I’ve always been intrigued by beautiful creatures . . . and you certainly are beautiful.”

  She smirks at me. “Ohh, and you were doing so well. But now the cheesy one-liners are coming out. How many times have you used that one? Ten? Twenty? You do remember that I’m a bartender and hear basically every line in the book and then some.”

  I shrug. “Might be a line, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You are beautiful,” I say honestly.

  Madison blinks, then nods. “Thank you. And thanks for earlier too. He did deserve it.”

  Her admission feels like the best victory I’ve gotten in a long time. I knew she was glad I’d helped, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “You’re welcome. You’re a tough girl, but you deserve better than that.”

  Madison avoids my eyes, looking around the room and checking my work. I follow her eyes, admitting, “Damn, I didn’t realize we were moving so fast. I should’ve slowed down.” I tease her, giving her an obvious wink.

  “So . . .” she says as she uses the big broom to sweep up one side of the floor while I mop the other. “Guess I should tell you, I figured out who you are. You’re beyond alphabet soup.”

  “Oh, really?” I ask, maneuvering around a table leg.

  Madison pauses, leaning on the broom. “Why are you doing this?” She tilts her chin up, gesturing toward my swishing mop.

  I shrug, hoping to avoid the question but deciding honesty might be the better course of action. “You told me to help if I wanted to stay, so I’m helping.” The implication that I want to stay with her, and what that could mean, hangs heavily between us.

  She smiles, and I can see that she’s pleased with my answer.

  “How long have you been working here?” I ask.

  “A few years now,” she answers vaguely. “Came to the city, needed a job, and Stella was hiring. Things have worked out well. Okay, get this half, then we’ll get the glasses from the dishwasher.”

  “Okay,” I agree, a little surprised at how bossy Madison can be. “And what brought you to the city?”

  “Careful with the water,” she says, cutting me off. I set the bucket down, and she comes over, sighing. “This is hardwood floor, not tile.”

  She’s close, looking up at me after cleaning up my spilled mop water. From this angle, I can practically see down her shirt, and I smile, taking in her eyes and her cleavage at the same time.

  She stares at me like she wants to say something but isn’t quite sure how. Her chest is heaving and her eyes are darkening, the pupils so big I could get lost in them. “You really are a Danger.”

  “Scott Danger. Danger is my . . . family name.”

  Madison chuckles at the joke I’ve been doing since Austin Powers was still quotable. “I’m gonna be honest. I thought you were nothing but trouble when I first laid eyes on you. And that was before you went all alpha-male on my customer.”

  “That might not be far from the truth,” I reply, stepping a little closer. We’re close enough now that I can feel the warmth radiating from Madison’s body, and I can see her breathing quicken, even as she raises an eyebrow.

  “Oh?”

  I reach out, letting my instincts take over. She doesn’t resist when I grab her hip, pulling her against me, her breasts pressing heavily against my body and my cock pulsing in my slacks. “But I think you might be more trouble than I am. Look what you’re doing to me.”

  I mean that she’s had me cleaning the bar, but the hitch in her breathing says she took it another way.

  I growl lightly, pressing my body closer against hers until I feel my cock touch he
r belly. “Feel what you’re doing to me.”

  She gasps as she realizes what the warm, heavy bulge pressing against her stomach is. Her open mouth is tempting. I want to kiss her, make her gasp again and swallow her breath. I start to lower my mouth toward hers, but she pushes against my chest lightly. “I think . . . I think you should go. I’ve got to close up,” she protests weakly.

  Her eyes betray the lie coming out of her pink lips, and her hands are tightening on my chest, no longer pushing me away but pulling me closer.

  “Are you sure about that?” I rasp.

  Madison doesn’t reply, her breathing almost ragged, but whether she knows it or not, she presses more of her body against me, her eyes searching my face for something.

  I reach up, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “Let me show you what you deserve . . . at least for tonight. Let me treat you right.” I murmur, gazing into her whiskey eyes, which are sparking with need.

  She bites her lip, and I can see the battle waging between her body and her brain. She wants this, wants me . . . but she isn’t sure.

  I don’t rush her, letting her decide for herself, but while I wait for her to make the call, I run my fingers up and down her back, caressing every inch. “Fuck, you feel good.”

  Her lips part and a soft sigh escapes her lips as I trace up to the back of her neck. “Scott.”

  I hear the need in her voice, her decision made. I lower my mouth to hers, and the first touch is just as electric as I imagined it would be. She gasps, and I press the advantage, sliding my tongue to meet hers as we start to move. We bump into the brass rail at the bar and grind against each other, her fingers grabbing handfuls of my shirt then my hair.

  “Oh, fuck,” Madison moans as I bring my right hand up to cup her breast, pressing into me. “You’re going to get me in so much trouble.”

  “No trouble . . . just Danger,” I tease, kissing down her neck. My knee presses between Madison’s legs, her thighs parting until her pussy is pushed against my thigh. I lift my leg, grinding against her as she shifts her hips, searching for more. “Damn, girl . . . that’s it. It’s not my cock, but ride me.”

  Madison whimpers, reaching down and clutching my ass for leverage. “Don’t stop . . . oh, my God . . .” she begs as her body takes over. The soft plea strikes me to my core, and I push harder, the roll of her hips in time with her whimpers. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “That’s it, come for me,” I demand, my cock pulsing as I grind against her. I haven’t dry humped in years, not since high school, probably, and even then, it wasn’t remotely this hot.

  Her breathy moans, her using me to get off, the soft weight of her breast in my hand, the warmth of her skin, the clenches of her thighs around mine . . . I’m about to come in my slacks like a fucking teenager. I force myself off the brink, wanting to watch her as she edges closer to her orgasm.

  Madison throws her head back, her nails digging into my arms to hold me in place as she cries out, “Oh, fuck! Yes!” Her hips buck, and I can feel the pulses of her orgasm against my leg, the heat from her pussy burning through the fabric of her panties and my slacks.

  She trembles, coming off the high, and pushes me back. I’m stunned for a second, but she spins in place and bends over one of the bar’s padded leather stools. She looks back at me over her shoulder. “Scott . . . fuck me. Please.”

  I don’t have to be told twice. My eyes are fixed on her denim-covered ass, and I remember my earlier fantasy to fuck her in this outfit, her fishnets ripped open at the crotch. A groan escapes, rumbling from deep in my throat, and I have to palm my cock to keep from spilling right then.

  Knowing this is going to be fast and hard, and hoping she can handle that, I rip my shirt open. I hear a button pop and maybe even a seam let go, but all I can think about is giving this beautiful woman the powerful fuck she deserves. Never in my life have I wanted something—no, someone—so badly.

  As I drop my shirt, I rub my hands down my abs, putting on a bit of a show for her. But I’m shocked at her reaction. Instead of a look of lusty need, she goes pale like she’s seen a ghost.

  “Scorpion,” she whispers, staring at the tattoo on my chest.

  I chuckle, looking down at the result of a drunken night out. “Yeah? I got it when I was in college.”

  “Why?” she asks, still frozen in place.

  “I thought it fitting to put a scorpion since it’s my Zodiac,” I tell her, not mentioning that in my wasted stupor, it had seemed logical to brand myself with a symbol of the man I wanted to be . . . strong, intimidating, the threat you don’t see coming. In the sober light of day, I realized it probably had something to do with being the underestimated youngest in my family and wanting to sting back for all the years of pain. But that’s all way too deep right now, so I keep it simple. “I’m a Scorpio. Born October 31st, actually, a Halloween baby."

  Instead of saying anything, Madison stands up, pulling her skirt back into place and adjusting her shirt, putting herself back together. Suddenly, she’s not begging to be fucked, but scared, frightened for some reason. “Get out.”

  “What?” I ask, stunned. I’m literally about to nut on myself here, and she’s telling me to leave. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I made a mistake. We shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have let you stay. Please leave.”

  I stiffen, seeing that she’s not joking, and feel a stab to my gut, or maybe that’s my heart? I know I just met her, and I’m a pretty fucking confident guy, but taking my shirt off and having her freak out isn’t exactly doing good things for my ego. “If that’s what you want?”

  Her eyes are locked on my tattoo, so I grab my shirt and slip it back on, trying to button it. As the tattoo disappears from sight, she looks away. “It is. I’m sorry, Scott.”

  “Can I at least stay until you close up and leave? We don’t have to do anything. I’ll just wait and make sure you’re okay,” I promise, not wanting to give up so easily.

  “No, I can handle myself,” she whispers, resolute. “Thank you.”

  She offers a weak smile but is obviously still scared for some reason. Scared of . . . me? Of my tattoo? Of scorpions?

  Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to challenge her. Demand why she’s changing her mood on a dime. But I’ve taken too many liberties already, and I don’t want to push my luck.

  “I guess I’ll see you around sometime,” I finally say. Reaching into my back pocket, I find my wallet and retrieve a business card. Seeing a pen, I scribble down my number and leave it on the bar. “You have my number if you want it. Just call. If it means anything . . . I do want to see you again.” I begin to turn away but then add, “I’ll have the Uber driver wait outside to make sure you close up and leave safely before I go.”

  She doesn’t answer, and the knife in my gut twists again.

  As I walk out the door, I’m shaken. I’m mad at myself for getting into that situation, disappointed that it didn’t end the way I thought it would, and hurt that Madison could just dismiss me without explanation.

  That’s what really gets me the most, I think. If she’d just explained, maybe I could’ve talked her through whatever spooked her? But this is one of those times where I may never know what bothered her so much.

  “And I hate not knowing,” I mutter as I reach for my phone to call an Uber.

  Chapter 6

  Madison

  “A scorpion tattoo?” Tiff asks from her perch on my bed, her voice on edge. She’s been following me around our postage-stamp sized apartment ever since I popped out to search for coffee. She took one look at my fucked-up hair and disheveled clothes and squealed, thinking the best. And she was sorely disappointed when I told her that my appearance wasn’t from a happy ending to my night.

  With my schedule today, I had to rush it, grabbing four hours of sleep before dragging my spent ass out of bed for this morning. I know I must look like hell because she’d barely skimmed our horoscop
es before beginning the inquisition of question after question.

  “You for real?”

  I nod, kicking my clothes across my tiny bedroom. It’s not much, four walls and a ceiling, but the rent’s still fucking ridiculous.

  Unfortunately, the growth of Bane has meant lots of ‘real estate investors’ gouging people like Tiff and me on rent. Which is why we share this place and damn-near waltz to get around each other when we use the kitchen.

  “Yes, an elaborate one with a stinger, claws, the whole nine yards,” I say as I slip on my pink T-shirt for the day that says Volunteer: May’s Animal Rescue. Reaching up, I poke myself in my boob. “Right here on his chest.”

  My skin pricks as I remember his hard chest and washboard abs in front of me. I wanted him to take me so badly in that moment. I didn’t care that I’d just met him. The way I felt in his arms felt so right. He was rough and gentle at the same time, not rushing and not forcing me but driving me wild with his lips and the feeling of his body pressed against mine.

  But when I saw the tattoo, that voodoo woman’s words pierced my arousal like a speeding bullet.

  Your heart shall be his . . . then will come the sting . . . you will suffer . . . oh, girl, will you suffer . . . and then you shall burn.

  A shiver courses down my spine at the memory. I know her mumbo-jumbo is a bunch of bullshit, but I couldn’t help being chilled by the coincidence of meeting a man with a scorpion tattoo who also happened to be a Scorpio mere days after her dire prediction. And the way he made me feel, he damn-near could’ve had my heart if he’d asked. Hell, he could’ve had my soul.

  But none of that matters now, and I shake my head once, almost violently. “I kicked him out as soon as I saw it.”

  Tiff makes a face, like she doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. “So let me get this straight . . . you haven’t had any dick since you left that worthless sack of shit, and just as Mr. Sex-on-a-stick was about to make your year, you kicked him out of the bar because of a mad woman’s prediction? Damn me and my stupid voodoo ideas!”