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I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the high-pitched noise. Her friends join her, and money piles into the future bride's hands. That's my cue. I break into a dance, stepping and moving like usual. The bride-to-be presses a fifty against my abs and traces the lines with her thumb. I let her hands glide against me as she adds more money when something stabs into my gut. I roll it off and look over my shoulder, feeling the intense pressure. My eyes fling to the door, but she's not there. Sucking in a breath, I dance more when another fifty eases into the waistband of my low jeans.

The presence doesn't dissipate. Twisting my head, I glance at the bar. Light curls feather her hair. Yue leans against the bar, back pressed to it with her arms crossed. Her hair catches the purple and red lights, glowing vibrantly. Her face is a mask, something she wears most often when she's irritated. Tonight, she's dressed more like herself. A fitted black shirt, black shorts that cover her ass, and black combat boots cover her body.

I hold her gaze and raise an eyebrow. She doesn't move a muscle. A wicked grin takes over my face, and I turn back to the women at the table. Another adds money to my jeans, pushing them into my pockets. Her hand grazes the line of skin below my navel. I could pull back, but I don't. I let her, leaning into it. My fingers rest on the back of the woman's chair, and I dip my head, letting my breath stir the curls at her temple. She giggles, her body jerking sideways to gain my attention. The bride-to-be moves behind me, and her fingers trace marks on my back. I stiffen, dick pulsing because I know exactly what she sees. Those are Yue's scratches, the ones she burned me with last night when I pounded her pussy.

"Do you have a pet?" one of the ladies asks when she moves behind me.

"He must have a cat. Look at these damn scratches," says the bride-to-be.

"I do have a cat. She's quite prickly," I say, eyes gleaming.

"Awww," one of them coos.

Needles slam into my back, and I turn again, eyes moving to the bar. I scan it over and over, only this time, I don't find Yue. I dance for a little longer before meandering away. As I stride, a ghost touch flares, stroking my dick. Following that action, the caress transforms into a sharp, sudden squeeze. I clench my jaw, eyes rolling to the back of my head while I freeze where I stand. Yue's touching my dick right now. She had to bring them here, and right now, instead of manning the door, she's handling my dick. My dick responds in the middle of a crowded club, and my jeans get tighter by the second. I grind my teeth together, rushing toward the dressing room. Inside the room, Adwin frowns the moment he sees my eyes before he sees my dick. Shaking his head, he exits the room quickly, leaving me all alone.

I sit in my seat, yank my jeans to the ground, and I fuck my fist. Yue keeps stroking my dick, touching and working it. Out of nowhere, a tug slams into my tip, and I throw my head back, grunting loudly. She's caressing a barbell. She doesn't stop messing with me, and it takes less than a few minutes before I cum again due to the combo of my hand and hers. Her touch disappears, leaving that familiar sensation in my spine.

Blowing out a breath, I check the time. My set starts in thirty minutes. Tonight, I'm in the gangster uniform: black slacks and a black jacket without sleeves cover my body. I'm not wearing a shirt either. Twenty-six minutes later, I'm in the wings waiting for my cue when the music cuts. Dead silence fills the club, and the crowd groans.

DJ Tide's voice comes through the speakers. "Uh, slight technical difficulty, folks—"

The music kicks back in three seconds later, but the timing is shot. My entrance hits on the beat drop, and now I'm standing in the wings long after the track has already moved beyond the cue point. I go out anyway and improvise. I'm a professional, but the routine is off, and I can feel the crowd's energy dip for the first ten seconds before I pull them back. Out of nowhere, the music speed decreases, playing slower than it should.

DJ Tide's eyes widen, and he glances at me. His eyes flicker toward the equipment before back at me. The house lights shift from purple to a sickly green, something that's never happened before. Noises escape the crowd, and not one sounds pleasant. Yue moves into my vision, a smirk on her lips as she raises her hand, examining her nails.

My teeth crash into each other while I beam. I perform to the slow song, adding more deliberate moves. I pick up a woman, folding her in half while I thrust toward her body. Others scream, forgetting the odd lights as they shove money into my waistband. I bend the woman over and slide underneath her, humping the air while pushing her jeans in my face. By the time my set ends, Yue is gone, and tips fill my boxer briefs. I leave the stage with a grin. Two can play this game.

Chapter 7 Yue

Iarrive at Midnight Embers an hour before dusk the next night, same as always. The club can't open without me. My magic expands the space, adjusts lights, and keeps everything stable enough to handle the chaos of all the celebration seasons New Orleans has. Nyx and Eos trust me to handle the door, which means I don't fuck around at all. Or at least I didn't used to.

Tonight I'm distracted. I can't stop thinking about Ekon's dick. Or more specifically, the three stone replicas currently sitting on my nightstand at home. They’re stone… but it’s not hard at all. It’s soft but not. It’s smooth as hell, and odd… just fucking odd. What is it ma—? Never mind.

I shake my head and focus on the task at hand. The club is empty except for a few staff members setting up for the night. I head straight for the bar, pulling my usual stool toward me and sitting down. The second my ass hits the seat, the stool jerks sideways.

My hands latch onto the bar, catching myself before I fall. A heavy breath leaves my mouth, and my grip tightens until my knuckles go white. I turn my head slowly, scanning the room.

A snort hits my ears. Ekon stands near the stage with Ashari, and he's grinning like he just won the lottery. Ashari shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh, and Ekon has the audacity to wink at me.

"Fucker," I hiss, jumping off the stool. I stomp toward the front door, throwing up a middle finger along the way.

Ekon's low chuckle vibrates the air behind me, making my skin prickle. The feel of his dick, all thick and rigid, left an imprint on me. I lift my hand and lightly slap my cheeks. I need to focus on the dick... I blink. Door. I need to focus on the door.

The doors open at dusk, and the club fills fast. With it two weeks away from Mardi Gras, we’ve officially entered that season. That means we're packed every night, and tonight is no exception. I work the door, processing guests and expanding the space with my magic as needed. Every so often, I catch Ekon watching me.

He's supposed to be dancing and flirting with guests. That's his fucking job; instead, he keeps finding excuses to drift toward the door. He'll walk past me with a drink in hand, lean against the wall nearby, or stop to chat with a guest. His voice rolls around inside my head, echoing in my ears. It's obnoxious...annoying... and driving me insane.

Ekon's routine tonight is filthy, like he's performing for only me, though the sea of women in here love every bit of it. His body rolls and flexes each time he lifts a woman into the air. He swings them around but his eyes never leave mine. Those things flash silver under the lights, and even though I try to look away, Ekon catches my eye. The asshole smirks and then winks, adding insult to injury.

The guests eat it up. Bills rain onto the stage, and the cheers get louder with every move. But Ekon doesn't remove his lustful gaze off me. When his set ends, he walks off the stage and heads straight toward the bar. Perched against the door, I push back my shoulders and stroll to the bar, heart thumping the entire way.

"Enjoy the show?" he asks the second I stop near him.

"You were fine," I say.

"Fine?" He raises an eyebrow, turning his body toward me. "That's all you've got?"

I blink and then cock my head. "What? Did you want a standing ovation?"