Small Town F*ck Club Read online

  Something seriously fucked up is going down somewhere in this place. She raises an eyebrow but silently tucks the cash in her apron pocket.

  Sadie pours me another beer and sets it down on the coaster, and smiles for the first time all night.

  “So, I’ve been wondering,” she says. “Do you always check women out so obviously?”

  I shake my head. “Never like this.”

  When she looks at me it’s like the noise of the bar is gone, like all that is left is us.

  I swear to God we’ve exchanged only a handful of words, but they’ve been enough to understand one another.

  And not because she recognizes me as Sawyer fucking Bennett. No, because there is something I recognize in her. And I swear she sees it in me.

  We’re both running from something.

  2

  The moment I showed up in Resting Hollow, I knew it was a good place to fade to black. I couldn’t hack it in a city even if I wanted to. I’m a small-town girl through and through. Besides, my car broke down the moment I pulled into town and I took it as a sign.

  I’m here until I get enough cash saved up to keep rolling west.

  As far as the Pacific Ocean.

  I’ll keep going and never look back.

  For now, though, I got an easy job pouring cheap beer to sorry-ass fools looking for love in a dive bar. And I get to live in the cottage behind the bar owned by Dusty. Free rent so long as I do as I’m told. Possibly ominous words, but I have a furnished place so my lips are sealed.

  I’ve had worse gigs.

  And tonight? I’m certainly not complaining. I have no idea who this guy is who keeps checking me out. He sure as hell isn’t from here—,and while I can’t see his eyes hidden by that dorky trucker cap, I can see his smile. He owns a pair of perfect dimples, and his hands are clean. That might not seem like it matters too much, but I grew up with a stepfather who spent half his life working on his motorcycle. I swore I’d never be with a man who had greasy nails.

  Though I may be getting ahead of myself. But considering the way he keeps looking my way, I don’t think I am.

  “You like the nachos?” I ask, after serving a group of women who were fawning over this man like he’s Bambi. Well, a sexy as fuck Bambi.

  Okay, that analogy is kinda weird. The point is, they were all over him. Then as I lean over the bar with my tits hanging out, I realize I’m doing the exact same thing.

  Shameless, sure. But this last month I’ve been through hell and back. Honestly the chance to forget all that for a moment; to just close my eyes, spread my legs, and forget, sounds damn near perfect.

  “They are the best tater-tot nachos of my life.”

  I cock an eyebrow his way. “You’ve had them before?”

  “Never.” He shrugs, finishing the last sip of his beer. I pour him another. He takes a drink. “Can’t say I’ve ever been out this way. I’m looking for a motel. You know of any decent ones?”

  “Can’t you Yelp it?”

  “I don’t have a phone.”

  I eye him suspiciously. He may be dressed in casual clothes, but they’re nicer than the stuff Wal-Mart sells. Plus, he’s obviously ripped but not from manual labor. He has a body that has spent plenty of time in the gym. He has money, that’s for sure. His teeth are white, he’s polite, he isn’t like the Podunk boys who hit on me here.

  So, the fact that he doesn’t have a phone is a red flag. A big one. The only other person I know without a phone is me.

  And there’s a reason for that.

  “The motel in town is scary,” I tell him. “Too scary for me, and that’s saying something.”

  He shakes his head. I wish he’d take off his ball cap. I want to see his eyes.

  “I need to sleep somewhere other than my car tonight,” he tells me.

  I bite my bottom lip, look at my watch. It’s nearly 1 a.m. The bar will be open for another hour.

  “I bet there are plenty of women out on the dance floor who would take you home.”

  I know. Shameless. I’m fishing, trying to figure out his game.

  He bites.

  “I don’t want to go home with any of them.”

  “Anyone on the dance floor or anyone at all?” I lean closer, knowing I’m showing him everything I’ve got, but damn, I’m suddenly craving a sexual connection. Something that will let my head fall back, my shoulders drop, and my heart race. I want to escape my demons, if even for just one night.

  He smiles slowly, running his hand over his stubble. “It’s the dance floor I’m avoiding. I’m not opposed to other offers.”

  Just then another couple saddles up the bar, more out-of-towners. What the hell? I have no idea what Dusty is running here, but it’s starting to creep me out. At least thirty people have come in tonight asking for the Dusty Special.

  “That’ll be 5.99,” I tell them. This time though, since the crowd at the bar have thinned out a little, it’s easier to watch them pass the bathrooms and turn around a corner.

  “What the fuck is that all about?” he says.

  “I have no idea.” I wipe down the counter, pursing my lips. “The only thing down the hall is a supply closet.”

  “Well those fancy-ass people are not here to refill the deep fryer, I’ll tell you that.”

  I laugh at that, appreciating his down-to-earth demeanor. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  His Adam’s apple bobs and I swear to God he is coming up with an alias on the fly.

  “Bennett,” he answers. “Now that we know who one another are, what do you say we go find out about Dusty’s Special ourselves?”

  I duck my head, trying to see his eyes, but he seems intent on not revealing them to me. Before I can answer, another group of men—locals in their dirty clothes and greasy hair come up and order a round, hitting on me as they wait for me to pour their pints.

  “Hey, honey, you wanna come home with me tonight?” one guy asks with a slurred voice.

  “I’ll pass,” I say tightly. But he doesn’t drop it.

  “Aww, you gonna make me get myself off at the thought of you? Wouldn’t you rather ride my big old dick all the way home?”

  “Fuck off,” I tell them, raising my hands and stepping away from the bar.

  “Oh, we won’t fuck off. We wanna fuck you,” another man chimes in.

  “You wanna take this outside, boys?” Bennett asks, standing up from his stool. When he stands, I see how big he is. His biceps flex under his thin cotton tee, and his broad shoulders would intimidate anyone in this place. The guys, though, are too drunk to recognize what’s happening.

  “No, we wanna take her right here, right now,” one guy laughs.

  But before Bennett can throw one his way, the drunk lobs for Bennett, clumsily connecting his fat fist with Bennett’s chiseled jaw.

  He isn’t having any of it. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Bennett asks, not waiting for an answer. He pulls back and slams his fist into the guy’s jaw. He falls back, too wasted to throw a punch in return. I race around the counter, shocked at these men fighting over me.

  From the ground, the drunk asshole laughs, looking up at me. “Aww, so you wanted to ride me down here on the floor, is that it?”

  Bennett pulls the man up from the floor by the collar of his shirt. “You need to get the fuck away from here, understand?”

  Before Bennett can toss this idiot to the ground again, Dusty is here, pulling the men apart. I haven’t seen a bar fight break out since I got this job, but it’s almost closing time on a weekend, so if there was a time for shit to go down, I suppose now is the witching hour.

  Dusty’s a big man, and when he speaks, the people in this town listen. That much I’ve gathered in a short while. He may own a dive bar, but he has his finger on the pulse of a hell of a lot more in this sleepy town than people realize. My skin crawls thinking about his 5.99 special, and I wonder what else he has going on besides a strong read of Resting Hollow.

  “It’s time you boys
go home, understood?” he bellows. They scatter immediately, falling over their boots on their way out the front door.

  Once they’re gone, Dusty turns to me. “You can call it a night, Sadie,” he says. “I’ll close up.”

  I thank him, tossing my apron in the dirty washcloth bin, and stuffing my tips into my purse. The confrontation didn’t scare me, but it did piss me off. I didn’t leave my old life just to have to deal with more assholes in my new one.

  I didn’t disappear so I could be treated like shit.

  Ready to walk away, I turn and reach for Bennett. He may not be a sure bet, but he stuck up for me... and really, that is the number one thing I’m looking for in a man.

  And even if it’s a one-night stand, I still know my line in the sand.

  “You coming?” I ask him, tugging on his arm. He takes my hand and presses his own against it. His hand is heavy and warm. It pulses with a longing I understand.

  He’s not alone in his loneliness, though; it’s a feeling I know all too well.

  He looks down at me, and I see the darkness in his eye, but I know there is a lot more to see if only I could toss that cap aside and take a deep look at him. But for now, he won’t let me.

  I don’t press; after all, there’s a lot I’m not willing to share, either.

  3

  Goddamnit, my hand hurts. I can’t even think of the last time I punched a man. Years, I’m sure. But when I wrap my hand around Sadie’s, the pain disappears and all I can think about is how strong she is. How certain.

  How badly I want her.

  Dusty has gone back behind the bar, serving a throng of people ready to get as wasted as possible before last call.

  Sadie walks toward the front door, but I pull her closer, lean in toward her ear. Maybe I’m a fool. A glutton. A fiend. Maybe I will always be the man I once was—hungry for more, rarely satisfied, craving what I haven’t yet tasted.

  “Let’s go find out where those people went,” I tell her.

  She narrows her eyes as if she truly hadn’t considered going and finding out what the fuck Dusty’s Special is exactly. It’s crazy to think her curiosity wasn’t piqued tonight. I’ve been wondering for hours what the fuck is going on down that hall.

  I haven’t seen anyone exit. And that means there are an easy thirty people gathered for what? It’s late.

  And only a few kinds of deals go down this time of night. And none of them are angelic.

  They are all dirty.

  All filthy.

  The kind of deals I fucking love.

  And the kind that have always gotten me into trouble.

  But I’m weak. I want. I’m rarely satisfied.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want any trouble. And I need this job,” she tells me.

  I nod softly. “I understand.” I pull her closer to me at the waist. She’s small in my hands, the curve of her waist deep, her body an hourglass, hardly 5’4. I like the way I tower over her, as if I could protect her. “But I’m here, no one knows me. Blame it on the new guy.”

  “You’d take the fall?”

  I shrug. “If it means we have a little more time together? Damn straight.”

  “You’re as bad as those guys at the bar, Bennett.”

  I pull back. “Hell no, I’m nothing like those fuckers. I know what you need. They had no idea.”

  She laughs, a laugh that is swallowed up by the blaring country music around us. But I heard it. I heard the disbelief in her tone. “And what do I need, Bennett?” she asks.

  “A real man.”

  She doesn’t answer, just grabs my other hand and pulls me past the restrooms, down to the closet. It’s a dead end. The hall is dark, no one’s here. The booming music suddenly feels like a distant memory.

  Right now, it’s only her and me.

  I pull her to me, because more than finding out what’s behind that door, I want to feel her lips pressed against mine. I want her tongue in my mouth. I want to run my hands through her messy hair.

  And I do. I hold her at the base of her neck and at her wrist, holding her still. My mouth is on hers and her lips are hard against mine. She’s surprised and lets out a gasp as I pull her closer.

  But she likes it.

  Her hands are on my waist, reaching for my ass, wanting me closer. Close enough to fuck. Close enough to take in this dark hallway where we are all alone.

  I run my hand over her breasts, they are big and round and fucking perfect. I want to rip off her clothes and press my cock between them. I want to make her shake, I want to make her scream. I want to make her beg.

  But not here, not now. Instead, I kiss her like I won’t let go.

  Eventually she steps away, panting for breath. Her eyes are hooded, heavy. Hungry.

  Dusty was wrong, she’s not a good girl.

  Sadie is a bad girl, and tonight she is mine.

  “Open it,” she tells me, nodding toward the door. “In there. Fuck me in there.”

  I pull open the door, and cleaning supplies are pushed aside. Instead of mops, there is a second door. Like we are going to fucking Narnia. “Is that an exit?”

  “No, the exit’s in the kitchen,” she says, pulling the door shut behind us.

  We walk to it and see there is a keyless entry, with a number pad. “What kind of shit does Dusty have back here?” I ask.

  “His special, right?” she says.

  “Punch it in,” I tell her.

  “What in?”

  “The numbers. 5-9-9.”

  She nods understanding. “I don’t want any trouble though.”

  “Me, either,” I say.

  “Is that why you won’t let me see your eyes?”

  “Is that why you look right through people, without letting them really see inside?” I press.

  She swallows. “Something like that.”

  “Worst case scenario, it’s a fucking crime scene and we bust out. But I’m guessing all those people weren’t coming to a secret entrance in a bar in the middle of nowhere to start murdering one another.”

  “Then why?”

  I clench my jaw, having plenty of experience with people going to an out of the way location to spend late night hours, where there is no trace of them being there.

  “To hide.”

  A small smile plays on her lips, it’s so dark in here that I can hardly make out the outline of her face, but that smile? It’s impossible to conceal.

  “I’m good at hiding,” she says.

  “So am I,” I tell her.

  “Then let’s open this door and try to disappear.”

  She presses the numbers on the keypad, 5-9-9.

  It flashes green, unlocks.

  We pull it open, step inside.

  And find ourselves on the top of a staircase, lit only on the steps.

  She reaches for my hand the same moment I reach for hers.

  We step down together, not able to see what is below. But then we reach a landing, and we see everything.

  There are people sprawled out everywhere. A massive orgy right before our eyes. Bodies tangled, flesh on flesh, mouth on mouth.

  I swallow, my cock fucking hard as a rock. All I can do is imagine Sadie stripped to nothing, spread on one of those mattresses with me licking her cunt up and down as she screams my name, hands in my hair.

  This is nothing like LA, where things were kept secret. Where dirty deeds were done in the dark.

  Here everyone is fucking, putting it all out there, on the line, for everyone to see.

  “What is this place?” she murmurs.

  I know exactly what this is.

  It’s a Small Town Fuck Club, and I’m in over my head for the first time in my brand-new life.

  4

  I want him. I want him to fuck me like the people around us are fucking.

  Hard and deep and with abandon.

  My whole life has been about being in the shadows. Concealed in fear.

  But this place? There is nowhere to hide.

&nbs
p; Bennett’s hold on my hand tightens, and I’m not sure if he loves what he sees or hates it.

  The truth is, it’s shocking in the most primal way. The way the people before us touch, it is so raw... and it’s hitting me hard. Probably because I’ve never done anything like this.

  So freely.

  But it also speaks to me for that very same reason.

  Longing. An unsatisfied longing deep within cries out.

  My body wants Bennett the same way these people want one another... completely.

  As we make our way to the bottom step, I notice something else.

  The people having sex in front of us are not as free as I initially thought.

  They are all wearing masks over their eyes as if they are at some masquerade party made for pure pleasure.

  My panties are soaked, the images before me so erotic. A man licks a woman’s pussy while another man has his cock in her mouth. I see a woman on all fours getting fucked from behind while kissing the man in front of her. Two women ride one man, one sitting on his face, the other his dick. My nipples are hard at the vision—and my body begs for what it’s never had.

  Utter devotion while losing control... and masked all the while... hidden in plain sight.

  “You’ll receive your masks once you pay,” a burly man standing in front of the roped off orgy informs us. Then he takes a harder look, recognizing me, and he frowns.

  His name is Teddy, and while he may be a solid three hundred pounds, he is also a softie. At least he’s got a soft spot for me. He has brought me coffee a few times, even asked me out. I politely declined, and he didn’t press. Instead, he has taken it as his job to make sure no one at the bar messes with me.

  Another guy stands beside him now, in this underground club. I feel safer knowing there’s security.

  Teddy asks if Dusty knows I’m here and I lie through my teeth.

  “Is that a problem?” I ask.

  He blushes, stammering. “Uh, no. Sadie. I just. Uh, didn’t expect you here is all.” He looks uncomfortable … maybe the idea of me getting naked down here is too much for him.