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She was incredible. I never thought of her as a dancer, but she’s a ten, moving like a naked flame, sexier than anything I’ve ever seen. I was going to come in my pants like a teenager, I swear. Anxiety forgotten, anything else but her, gone.
And now she’s fallen into my arms and I can’t believe my luck. I’m fucking holding her, she’s sitting in my lap, and her arms wind around my neck. Her wide eyes lift to mine.
She’s… whoa, she’s even sexier, even prettier up close, even with all that makeup on. She looks real under the exaggerated rouge and lipstick, her hips solid under my hands, warmth radiating through the fabric of her dress. It’s a scratchy, starchy fabric. A corset-like contraption circles her middle, and her tits all but spill out of the cleavage on top, soft and round. Her legs tense and draw my gaze down to the black lacy stockings and Betty Boop heels.
This girl is totally doing it for me. As a nerdy bookworm? Oh, yeah. As a hot pole dancer? Yes, please. Gimme everything. I love every side of her.
And as she squirms in my lap, a crease forming between her perfect brows—the shock wearing off to let realization dawn, I guess, of where she’s landed and how this looks—I realize she must be feeling me.
Feeling how hard I am.
How hard I’m gripping her hips.
How much I want her.
Incongruously, I briefly worry about my cat and what will happen to him if I go to jail for touching a dancer. Will he be okay?
But of course that won’t happen, I don’t think.
Only, that’s not my only worry. Heat flares in my gut. I’m not only hard, I’m burning. Burning for her.
Oh fuck, I hope I’m not about to go into heat right here and now, today of all days. It’s just… it’s as if their proximity—the guys’, and now Brinlee’s, so very goddamn close—is a trigger, and my body is responding, red alerts blaring.
This is a damn bad idea. What am I doing? I should lift her off me, get up, get out?—
“Thanks for the show,” Archer says, looming over us, holding something up. It’s the wad of cash I realize after a long, confused moment. He offers a hand to Brinlee who, after another moment, takes it, letting him pull her to her feet. He presses the cash into one of her hands. “You were amazing.”
She was, I think. She is.
The loss of her sweet weight and warmth is jarring. I’m reaching for her, to get her back, even though deep inside I know I can’t.
This is the end. We have gone too far. She’ll probably call security next time she sees us. And no matter what Archer says, we can’t keep coming here, imposing our presence on her, when she doesn’t want us around. Paying to have her do lap dances for us? That’s sick. Unethical. The mother of all bad ideas if we want more from her, if we want her to be our girl.
Because, yeah, that’s the thing, isn’t it? The reason we’re here is clear. We want her to be with us. It’s obvious from the guys’ reactions.
But that’s impossible. All this is insane. We’re just thinking with our dicks, and that has never led to a happy ending.
So I watch her take the money, staring down at it as if she doesn’t know what it is, and then stalk away, heading back to the dressing room, a dancing flame in the dimness of the club. I know my heart will never be the same after this. My stupid, stupid heart that never wanted any girl but Brinlee is now confused and torn.
When she vanishes, it’s as if the light is extinguished from the world.
Why the fuck did I have to go and fall for a girl like that?
What the fuck am I doing with these guys who are too hot to be real, in this fucking club?
What am I doing, period? I should be at work, I should be trying to find a way to appease my parents and not lose my shop, find a pack to be with.
A pack I want to be with.
A pack that smells so delicious, like the guys beside me, like the girl who just walked away from us. A pack that smells like home, but also like filthy sex and the best glass of wine you’ve ever had.
Like…
A hand closes around my wrist. “Come on, Say, let’s go,” Roman says.
“Name is Sawyer,” I growl, “not Say,” even as I draw a lungful of that spice that sets my blood alight, sending sparks through me. “And yeah, I’m going.”
Roman winks at me, and I can’t help but notice he’s flushed, his dark eyes bright. He’s walking kind of funny, too. And now I’m paying more attention, all four of us are. We’re hard as a rock for this girl. At least, we have that in common.
