"I don't like it any more than you do but it's the uniform all the waitresses wear."
"I don't like you working at that place. It's dangerous and the clientele is low-rent."
My lips twitched with amusement. Greg had been looking out for me since I was thirteen. He'd made the mistake of dating my nutjob mother for a couple of weeks. She'd tried to pull her usual con on him but he'd been too smart. One morning a few weeks after they'd stopped seeing one another, I'd woken up in our crappy little apartment to discover she'd split. Next thing I knew I was in Houston's foster care system. Not exactly a great place to be but not as bad as living with my erratic mother, all things considered.
Greg had made a point of getting to know my social worker and had kept an eye on me as I bounced from house to house and group home to group home. I'd taken heart in the knowledge that I always had someone to trust and turn to if things got ugly. He'd never failed me. That's why I'd come to him tonight.
"Well you don't have to worry about me working there anymore." I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. "I got fired tonight."
His brow furrowed. "Fired? For what?"
"For punching some jackass who thought it was okay to stick his hand up my skirt," I explained matter-of-factly.
"What?" Rage filled his voice. "One of those low-life scum bags touched you?"
"Only once," I replied. "Believe me. He paid for it."
Greg's gaze fell to my left hand. He picked it up and gazed at my swollen, bruised knuckles. "You need to ice this."
"I did on the bus." I waited for him to start in on me riding the bus this late at night but he didn't. He surprised me by lightly tracing the bruised ridges of my hand. The soft touch made my belly flutter. I'd tried to convince myself that my attraction to Greg was some kind of hero worship but deep down inside I knew it was so much more than that.
But he was nearly forty years old and I was just nineteen. He was a decorated SWAT cop. I was an art student. We were two different people in two different worlds. We could be friends but I couldn't see how it could ever be more than that.
Greg's gaze slid from my hand to my face. I spotted the flash of lust there. I'd inherited my mother's bedroom eyes and curves so I'd learned to recognize that spark of interest at an early age. To stay safe, I'd figured out how to read men and anticipate their moves.
It wasn't the first time Greg had looked at me like that. A few months ago, on my birthday, he'd taken me out for dinner. I'd worn this sexy little black dress and killer heels. I think it was the first time he'd ever seen me as a young woman and not some abandoned kid he'd needed to look after and protect. It must have been a startling revelation for him.
After that dinner, he'd been scarce for a week or two. I figured he'd felt weird about lusting after me. When he'd called me again to check up on me, I'd just assumed he'd dealt with his unwanted feelings and moved on from them. Now, I wasn't so sure.
It shouldn't have excited me so much but it did. His warm, rough hand clasped mine. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "I think we need to talk."
I swallowed hard and stared down at him. "Okay."
"I know you waitressed in that club because the money was good but I won't have you degrading yourself in a place like that anymore."
"Degrading myself? It wasn't a strip joint, Greg. It was just a night club."
"With a clientele of drug dealers and gang bangers," he shot back. With a shake of his head, he continued, "If you want to get a job, find one in a coffee shop or some other place where you can keep most of your clothes on, Nez."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you think I haven't already applied to places like that? The job market sucks, Greg. My class schedule doesn't make things easy. Everyone under twenty-five wants a job with the same hours I need."
"Then we come up with some kind of alternative."
I arched my eyebrows. "We?"
He nodded. "I promised I'd look after you, Nez. I let you take that job at the club because I didn't think it was my place to make decisions for you. You're a grown woman."
"Yes, I am." I bristled with annoyance as I waited for the inevitable lecture.
"I should have stepped in to protect you and guide you. I'm sorry that I failed you."
I hadn't been expecting that. "What? You didn't fail me, Greg. You've never failed me. You've always been there for me."
"Let me be there for you now."
"How?"
"Move in here with me. You can live here while you go to school. That will alleviate most of your money issues, won't it?"
"Maybe." Rent was my largest expense. I'd done dorm living that first year and had nearly lost my mind. My roommate had been a straight-up psycho. Without a car, I had to be close to the university and safe housing in that area wasn't cheap. I was living in a studio right now in the most rundown but safe complex I could find. Most nights I slept with the lights on because of the bugs. It wasn't exactly a dream situation.
"So what do you say?"
I still reeled with shock at his offer. "You really want me to move in here?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you here."
"Why?"
He laughed. "Why not?"
I shrugged. "I'm not the easiest person to live with, Greg. I've got some quirks you might not like."
"We've all got quirks, Nez. It's what makes us interesting."
I stared at our joined hands. "How much for my part of the rent?"
"What?" He shook his head. "No rent, Nez."
"No, I can't live here for free, Greg. I have to pull my weight."
"We'll figure out a trade or something. You can do laundry or cook or something."
I wrinkled my nose. "I can't cook and I hate housework."
"You can't cook?" He seemed surprised.
"I can scramble an egg and make toast and microwave the hell out of things but real cooking? No. Mom never cooked and I practically lived off of instant noodles and PB&J sandwiches as a little kid. Foster care wasn't much better. I never lived anywhere long enough to get comfortable in a kitchen."
His hand touched my bare knee. Electric zings traveled up my thigh at his gentle touch. "I'll teach you to cook. It's a skill you need to learn."
My belly quivered as he caressed my bare skin. "I'd like you to teach me."
"I can teach you a lot of things, Nez. You just have to ask."
I licked my lips as his fingertips left a blazing trail on my thigh. There was no mistaking the double entendre. "It's not really a fair trade if you don't get something out of it, Greg."
He held my gaze, his eyes dark with lust and need. "What do you have to offer me, Nez?"
My belly flip-flopped. Desire bubbled in my core, the bright fizziness of lust spreading up into my chest. I realized this was my chance. How many nights had I fantasized about Greg? How many nights had I played with my pussy and rubbed my clit while imaging Greg's cock inside me?
Fingers trembling, I grasped his hand and widened my thighs. I slid his hand along my inner thigh until his fingertips touched the silky fabric of my panties. "How about a tight, teen pussy that's only been fucked once?"
Greg's nostrils flared as his lust overwhelmed him. "I'd say that's an offer I can't refuse."
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ROXIE'S BACKLIST
Chance's Bad, Bad Girl
Halftime With Craig
Tease
Quid Pro Quo
Eddie's Cuffs 1
Eddie's Cuffs 2
Eddie's Cuffs 3
Seduced by the Congressman 1
Seduced by the Congressman 2
Seduced by the Loan Shark
Disturbing the Peace (Romps #1)
Search and Seizure (Romps #2)
ABOUT ROXIE
I like to write dirty books that make your pulse pound. I’m the naughtier alter ego of another erotica and erotic romance author who wanted to write more taboo stories. You can find
me online at www.roxierivera.com.
Roxie Rivera, Seduced by the Loan Shark
(Series: Seduced by... # 3)
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