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Her lips curl as she takes me in, giving me a wink as she squats and whispers in my ear. “Want a private, handsome? I’ll make it extra special for you.”
She tries to make herself sound enticing. I can respect that. It’s her job, after all. To make every sucker here feel like he’s the most important man in the room.
Smiling to be polite, I shake my head. “Wife wouldn’t approve.”
“Well, aren’t you a keeper?” She giggles as she rights herself and goes straight to Matthew—with the same offer, I’m sure.
But, of course, he’s a lot more eager to say yes.
“Keep the seat warm for me, will ya?” His eyes dance with excitement as she drags him toward the other side of the room.
With a shake of my head, I take a swig of my beer, about to head out, when a woman happens on the dance floor, and I instantly lower the bottle, my eyes unable to stop staring.
Not because I’m attracted to her or she’s suddenly my fucking soulmate. I don’t believe in that bullshit.
No.
I stare because I know her.
Well, kind of.
My mouth tips up on one side. The memory of when she flipped Casius over like she wanted to cut his eyes out with her nails fills my head until I can’t help but wonder everything about her.
Of course I looked her up once I noted her license plate that night.
I know her name. I know where she lives too. But I left it at that. My curiosity died there, so I stopped digging.
But now? I want to dig until my fingers bleed. Until I know everything there is to know about Kayla Jenkins.
A stripper? I didn’t see that coming. Not that there’s anything wrong with the profession. It pays. But she didn’t seem like the type. Clearly, I was wrong.
Men whistle as they take in all of her, from the pink pasties covering her nipples to the matching G-string that barely covers her pussy.
Her light brown hair glistens as she wraps her arms around the pole and swings, like it’s a friend she knows well.
Her back is concealed with a nude-colored mesh piece that connects to her panties and around her throat in a glistening choker. Her back is the only part of her she keeps hidden. And it makes me wonder why. It’s possible she just prefers it that way. Likes the outfit. But something tells me there’s more to this.
She doesn’t see me watching her. Why would she? There aredozens here just like me.
As she closes her eyes and flips upside down, gyrating in reverse, I can see she isn’t doing this for anyone but herself.
She continues into the next song, making the men groan and say despicable things, and it fills me with disgust.
Her pasties are now gone, thrown for some poor sucker to catch, someone who’ll never get a woman like that, not even in his dreams.
She is attractive. Of course she is. Any fool with eyes can see that. Beautiful by all accounts, her eyes a hazel dream, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her thighs are strong, lean muscles flexing, and I’d guess they’d have to be with the strength it takes to work the pole the way she is.
I feel as though I’m violating her by taking in her breasts, a little more than a handful, and I hate that my cock grows at the sight of her. Hasn’t for the others, not unless they have their mouth wrapped around it.
My attraction to her must be based on what happened with Casius, the way she handled him. Nothing more.
She finishes her dance and gives the crowd a little smile. But as she happens to start toward the back, one of the men roughly grabs her ankle.
“Come on, baby, take off those panties. Show us that cunt,” he cackles.
Two security guards immediately lunge at him. But before they drag him away, she lifts up her foot and presses her thin stiletto into his shoulder, her face set with a sneer.
I register the tightening of her fist against her hip, and that makes me grin.
