As she tries to sneak quietly around one of the massive bouncers, the toe of her flip-flop catches on the edge of the carpet, and she face-plants into the guy. He catches her with ease, but she shrieks loud enough to snag the hostess’s attention on the stage.
“Everything okay back there, friends?” the six-and-a-half-foot tall woman in a black corset dress and a wig to match asks into her mic, her voice a mix of honey and husk. “You’re not trying to feel up my man, are you, sweetie?”
Everyone turns as Tessa collects herself, awkwardly fixing her dress and brushing her dark hair from her face.
“No, ma’am,” she calls back. “I have my own man, thank you.” She loops her arm through mine proudly, and the crowd erupts into laughter.
“Aw, I think we’ve found our guests of the evening, haven’t we, folks?” The hostess chuckles, and another brute of a guy in a security T-shirt comes up from the front of the showroom.
“This way, please,” he rumbles, and Tessa glances up at me before she shrugs and follows, tugging me along.
“There you go, lovebirds,” the hostess coos as we’re seated front and center. “Since you’re fashionably late, I’ll catch you up real quick, okay? I’m Megan Maykulaf—get it? I made it up myself—and you’re just in time for a very special part of the show.”
Tessa claps, bouncing in her seat, and I groan. What the hell has she talked me into?
“This is where we give a few spicy dance lessons, isn’t it, folks?” Megan waggles her dark eyebrows above tarantula lashes, and the audience whoops. Clearly, I’m the only one who doesn’t know what the frick is going on. “First things first… I’m going to need some ID.”
Say what?
Tessa holds out a hand for her ID, which I put in my wallet so she wouldn’t have to carry her purse on the strip. “License, please.”
“You’re going to hand over your ID to a stranger without asking why?”
“Oh, I know why. I’ve seen this show before.”
Jesus Christ. “You wanna enlighten me?”
“Nope. But I promise you’ll love it.”
Somehow, I doubt that. But I pull out my wallet and give the hostess our IDs anyway.
“Oh. Dean, huh? I had a Dean once. Dean of Students, I mean. Back in college,” Megan quips, and Tessa giggles beside me. “And the pretty young lady who accosted my man is Tessa. Dean and Tessa. Aw, your names are as cute as the two of you look together. But the real question is… can either of you dance?”
Oh, hell no. Hell. No.
The guy who showed us to our seats crooks his fingers with the same lack of enthusiasm as before, and Tessa bounces back to her feet.
“Come on, boss man!” She grabs my hand, and a minute later, I’m seated in a chair in the middle of the runway as “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” booms through the sound system.
Tessa turns to the crowd and lifts her arms while Megan and another dancer—this one wearing a red and black lace corset and stockings—circle around me like eagles over a carcass in the pasture.
Fucking hell, I should’ve agreed toThunder Down Under.
“I think Miss Tessa already knows what to do!” Megan croons as Tessa kicks off her flip-flops and prowls toward me with slow, sexy strides. “Oh, yes, darlings! This little one needs no help from Sasha and me! Go on, girl! Show us how it’s done!”
The next thing I know, Tessa’s hands are in my hair, and my face is in her cleavage. I grip her hips to steady her, or maybe myself. She rolls her body to the beat of the music, her soft curves pulsing against my chest as she takes control of the stageandme. It’s awkward as hell… for about ten seconds. And then it’s pure friggin’ magic.
I slide my hands from her hips to her thighs so I can inch her dress up just enough for her to straddle my lap without letting go of my hair. Because I really friggin’ like her hands on me and the way her body moves above mine.
“You’ve done this before, too,” she rasps into my ear as she jerks my head back and flashes a wicked grin.
“Nope, sweetness. Can’t say I have.” But something about being with her comes naturally. That’s why I held off. I knew from the start that she’d do shit to me that I’d have little control over and will probably never recover from.
“I think you’re lying,” she purrs before she drops her peachy ass to my lap and grinds straight on my dick. My already hard, already aching dick. “That for me, boss man?”
“You’re gonna pay for this, sweetness. Just wait.”
“Oh, I’m looking forward to…ahh!”
