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Chapter 2 – Marcus

I couldn’t believe how fucking annoyed I was when Olivia left. My club was filled to the brim with beautiful women, yet she was the only one who captured my full attention. Her wild mane of curly hair framed her face perfectly, and her smooth dark skin felt like silk under my fingers. Those soft round curves fit against my body as if she had been made just for me.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, the image of Olivia’s luscious curves and bewitching eyes refusing to leave my mind. My cock ached with a raw need that was becoming increasingly unbearable. But I couldn’t let her get to me like this. I had work to do, responsibilities to uphold.

“Get your shit together, Marcus,” I growled at myself as I slammed down the empty glass, signaling for another drink. I tried to focus on the bustling scene around me. The club was thriving, its patrons losing themselves in the hedonistic atmosphere I’d meticulously cultivated over the years.

I went back to work, making my way through the crowd, making sure everyone was having the best possible time, even though my mood hard turned dark.

“Marcus, my man!” A familiar voice boomed as I approached a group of well-dressed men huddled in the corner. Their leader, a pot-bellied guy named Tony, clapped me heavily on the back. “How’s life treating you tonight?”

“Can’t complain,” I said, forcing a smile. “Business is booming.”

“Damn straight.” Tony nodded, gesturing toward the dance floor. “You’ve got this place running like a well-oiled machine. Best club in town, hands down.”

“Appreciate the kind words, Tony,” I replied, shaking his hand firmly. We exchanged some small talk about potential deals and upcoming shipments, but my mind kept wandering back to Olivia. It was infuriating.

Moving over to the next seating area, I spotted Stefan, a quiet Scandinavian who’d been trying to convince me to do business with his boss for weeks. I wasn’t interested, but couldn’t let him know that. The sick motherfucker he worked for was into some really dark shit and had a terrible temper. I certainly wasn’t a boy scout, but there’s a line, even when it came to making money.

I greeted him and gestured for a waitress to bring over some shots. Keeping Stefan too drunk to talk about business was the smartest move until I found a way to get him out of my face without insulting his insane boss.

“You sure know how to treat your customers,” Stefan said, the combination of his accent and drunk slurring amusing me.

“I aim to please,” I responded, glancing around the room, searching for a glimpse of particular dark curls and smooth skin, even though I knew Olivia was long gone.

“Everything fine?” Stefan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course.” I forced a smile, trying to shove any thoughts of Olivia deep into the recesses of my brain. “Just making sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“Yes, yes. All business,” he remarked, clapping me on the shoulder.

It was a struggle to keep from rolling my eyes. “You know it.” The waitress placed two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka in front of us. I took one shot with Stefan and told him I’d be back later, knowing he’d be passed out and carried to his car before I could break that promise.

As I walked through the club, I saw couples dancing and laughing, but I felt disconnected from it all. The sight of people having a good time, drinking, dancing, and everything else in my club was usually all it took to bring a smile to my face, but it wasn’t working this time.

I paused at the bar next to the dance floor to chug a bottle of water before sipping the cocktail I’d ordered.

“Nice job tonight, man,” I told the new bartender, a young guy with a scruffy beard and a genuine smile. He nodded his thanks and went back to expertly crafting cocktails for the eager crowd.

“Thanks, boss!” he called out, not missing a beat as he shook a martini with practiced ease.

I leaned against the bar, surveying the sea of writhing bodies, feeling oddly disconnected from it all. Club Desire was my first creation, the beginning of my empire, and yet tonight, it felt… hollow. Empty, even.

“Fuck,” I whispered, taking a long slug of my drink. The alcohol burned a fiery path down my throat, but it did little to steady the storm raging within me. If anything, it only fueled the fire.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of Olivia from my mind. It gnawed at me, making me feel more irritable than I’d been in years. I’d had my share of women, experienced the most outrageous and thrilling things life had to offer, yet none of it compared to the way Olivia had invaded and consume my thoughts.

“Never lose control,” I reminded myself silently, clenching my fists. “Never give someone power over you.” That was my one rule, and I refused to let anyone, even that gorgeous, intriguing woman, break it.

As I scanned the dance floor, my eyes locked onto a dancer on one of the raised platforms. She was wearing the new uniform – a fishnet bodysuit over the tiniest lingerie we could find. This girl bore a striking resemblance to Olivia. She was a weak imitation, to be sure, but the similarities were enough to leave me staring too long. As the song changed, she climbed down and headed over to me, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

“Hey there, boss man,” she purred, running a finger down my chest. “You seem tense. I think I can help with that.”

“Is that right?” I asked, my voice low and rough, playing along as I assessed her intentions.

“Absolutely,” she replied, licking her lips suggestively. “Why don’t we find somewhere more private?”

My body screamed for release, desperate to indulge in a moment of pure carnal pleasure that might just rid my mind of Olivia. This is how I liked my women. Willing and eager to skip the games and get to the fun part. No hesitation or complication. I took the dancer’s hand, leading her to the restroom behind the roped off seating area. She added even more sway to her hips every step as we walked. I appreciated her effort to keep my interest even though she’d clearly sealed the deal she wanted. The dancer practically squealed when we entered the room. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or just getting her first look at the VIP restroom, not that I really cared.

The girl, whose name escaped me for the moment, grinned and beckoned me over as she backed deeper into the room.

“Ready for me?” I asked her, my voice low and demanding, slipping a condom out of my jacket pocket. She nodded, practically panting in anticipation.

“Fuck yes,” she replied, pushing her body against mine, her hands gripping my biceps as if trying to steady herself.

I wasted no time; my hands roamed her body, mapping out the curves and valleys that both enticed and mocked me with their similarity to Olivia’s. She moaned and tossed her head back dramatically. It was too much. She reached up to wrap her arms around my neck, lips parted. I knew what she wanted. A kiss. Something passionate and intense. But, I wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t. Hers were not the lips I wanted to kiss. She was not what I wanted to taste.

“Turn around,” I commanded, and she obeyed without question. I pressed her against the cold marble wall, feeling the contrast between its smooth surface and her warm, pliant skin. My cock throbbed, desperate for release. A reflex. My body was ready to settle for her.

“Like this?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice as she spread her legs wide, offering herself up to me. “Renita is ready for you.”

I gripped her hips, hoping she’d stop talking. It worked. She moaned. But as I looked down at her, I felt nothing. My erection wilted. She was beautiful and sexy. But she wasn’t Olivia.

“Um, Marcus?” She looked over her shoulder at me, face full of confusion.

I couldn’t do it. I grunted. “Take a second to freshen up then get back to work.”

“What?”

A better man would have apologized, reassured Renita that she didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted out of there. Away from her.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: no substitute would do. Olivia had burrowed under my skin. I strode through the club, my thoughts consumed by the woman who had turned my world upside down. Burying my cock deep inside a hundred other beautiful women wouldn’t make a dent in my fixation. Nothing was enough to stop this unexpected and unwanted yearning.

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