Strip Me Bare

by Marissa Carmel

  “What?” I push myself up and Ryan rolls off me. I sit up, covering my bare breasts with my arm; my hair falling like a golden veil around my body. “Is that what you want? To go to Vegas?”

  “Yes,” he answers and it stops my heart.

  “Is this what you were trying to tell me right before you licked me senseless all afternoon?”

  “Sort of.” Ryan’s mouth spreads into a wide, salacious smile. “But just so we’re clear. I only licked you senseless because that’s how I wanted to spend my afternoon. Not because I was keeping it from you. I just didn’t know how to ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “If you’ll come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Alana, just listen,” he scoots onto his knees, “This would be major money for me, a chance to set us up for a good long while. And maybe you can find a job in Vegas? Your uncle might know someone. And it wouldn’t be permanent. We’ll come back, because I know New York is where you want to be.”

  “New York is where I want to be. But what about your graphic design business? You’ve been doing so well.”

  “It’s been good,” he agrees, “and I’ll still do it, but it’s going to take me a long time to build a reputable platform. This opportunity will be a chance for me to put some real money in the bank. And it will let me support you so you can get out from under your dad.”

  “Is that what this is really about? My father?” I retort.

  “No, not him, us,” Ryan looks anxious, “and moving forward.”

  “Forward?”

  “Yes.” He hesitates. “I need to know…what I mean is…I want to know if…” Ryan is fumbling all over himself and I have no idea what he’s trying to say, until it dawns on me like the sun. My heart flutters. He wants to know if I’ll marry him.

  I try not to concentrate on the future too much; my main focus is the present. Finishing law school, getting a stellar job and living independently; but there’s been times I let my mind wander past all that. And yes, it’s Ryan I see standing next to me when I imagine it. But now? It feels so soon. And yet, indisputably right.

  “Ryan,” I interrupt his nervous rambling, “do you want to know if I’ll marry you?”

  He nods his head, his eyes as big as blue porcelain saucers.

  I smile sweetly, “You’re going to have to ask me to find out.”

  His face falls, “That’s your answer?”

  I shrug my shoulders; that’s all I’m giving away.

  “What about Vegas?”

  I mull over my decision, knowing wholeheartedly I want to be wherever Ryan is.

  “I guess I can take the Bar in both New York and Nevada.”

  “Really? You’ll come?”

  “I’ll go, but Ryan.” I pause. “I don’t know how much longer I can live with you doing this. Especially if…” I trail off.

  “I know baby, I know it’s hard to deal with sometimes,” he slides down onto his stomach and wraps his arms around my waist, forcing me down with him. “Just a little while longer, for our future.”

  “It’s already been two years,” I expel a restless breath.

  “Please don’t get your head wrapped around it, this is supposed to be a stress free night,” he says, running his fingers down my side.

  “Wrapped around it?” I laugh sardonically. “I’m lying right in the middle of it,” I look up at the white decorative molding on the ceiling; it reminds me of delicate filigree.

  “I never finished your back rub,” Ryan says, and I know he’s trying to distract me from my uncertainties. With a gentle nudge, he urges me to roll over and I do it without hesitation, because right now, distraction is exactly what I need.

  I don’t want to think, I don’t want to worry. I don’t want to be reminded that when we leave this room, it won’t be Ryan walking next to me.

  It’ll be Jack the Stripper.

  Ryan straddles my legs, and brushes his hands all over my back, his touch light as a feather. Running his fingers through my hair, he leans down and kisses my neck. Softly at first, then with increasing pressure.

  “Do you remember when you wanted a tattoo,” he asks, “but wouldn’t get it because of your father?”

  “Yes, so you drew one on me in permanent marker,” I giggle. “It took a week to wash off.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t get it,” he says, tracing an infinity symbol with the tip of his finger at the base of my neck.

  “Why? I thought body art was your favorite type of expression,” I tease, recalling a conversation we had a lifetime ago.

  “It is, but your skin is just too beautiful to mark up,” he kisses my shoulder and the heat from his mouth electrifies down my body. He grabs both of my wrists and pulls them up over my head; his full weight now on top of me. I can’t move as he restrains me; my heart racing at 110 mph. With one hand holding my wrists, he slides the other underneath me and cups one of my breasts.

  “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” he asks as he digs his erection into me.

  Arching underneath him, I lift my ass to see just how crazy I can make him. He moans loudly as he dry humps me from behind. The sound does wild things to me. Letting go of my wrists, he sits up and slides his boxers off, the mattress dipping underneath his knees. Then sweetly and softly, Ryan kisses my back as he slides my panties over and inserts one finger inside me, bringing my whole being to life.

  With one arm he holds me down as he coaxes and coerces my body with the other, pushing it to the limit. And after a few long, hard, heat-inducing minutes he withdraws, just before he flips me right over the edge.

  With my arms still stretched over my head and my breathing heavy, Ryan crawls on top of me. Spreading my legs open with his, he surges into me without any warning, the rush causing me to gasp as I clutch the sheets and press my forehead firmly against the mattress. Hooking one arm underneath me he slightly lifts my hips, then begins to move exactly the way he dances; passionately, keenly, instinctively feeding my body exactly what it needs. Exactly what its craving. Devouring each pull and every push.

  As I listen to his tortured sighs and feel his slick skin slide across mine, my mind goes blank, and there is only Ryan. Inside me, on top of me, suffusing every part of me.

  He tangles his hand in my hair and tugs, gently pulling my head back, “I want to be the only one who touches you like this,” he rasps in my ear, sending my body and my emotions spinning out of control. I’m a hot spring of yearning as my climax builds deep within my core. Aching and throbbing, I’m desperate for every inch of him. Then, with one hard thrust he snaps me like a rubber band and I choke out my orgasm as he pulls harder on my hair.

  “Alana,” Ryan groans as he finds his own release; constricting his arm tighter around me, rendering me still. Then he collapses on top of me, his breath hot and heavy against my back.

  “You’re so fucking incredible,” he says as he wraps himself around me.

  “You may have told me once or twice,” I giggle languidly.

  “I’ll tell you for the rest of your life if you’ll let me.” He hugs me tighter.

  I will.

  Ryan locks the door to the B&B and slips the key back into his jean pocket, just as Emily emerges from behind some hanging beads with a big, buff blonde guy in tow. She freezes when she sees Ryan and me, with an expression on her face that looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Don’t tell Alex,” she says automatically.

  Ryan and I just glance at each other. “Hey, what happens in the dance quarter stays in the dance quarter,” Ryan tells her with a surrendering hand gesture.

  “We were just having a bit of fun,” Mr. Hawaiian Tropic says lightly, a hot Australian accent flowing out of his mouth.

  “Is that like your mantra or something?” I ask, recalling Ryan telling me the same thing when we were in one of those little rooms.

  “Nah, just the truth,” he smiles, his green eyes twinkling.

  I hook
one of my arms with Emily’s and start walking down the hallway. “So, how was the Thunder from Down Under?” I ask highly amused.

  “It’s Logan, and,” she rolls her eyes back, “amazing.”

  I can’t help but laugh aloud, clutching her tightly.

  “Where were you?” she asks curiously; I know she saw us coming out of that room.

  “The Chamber of Secrets,” I laugh.

  “Excuse me?” Emily raises an eyebrow.

  “It’s a conversation for another time,” I hint.

  “Is it a one scoop or two scoop conversation?” she asks intrigued.

  I sigh, “It’s like a four scoop conversation.”

  Her eyes go wide.

  Right before we get into the main room of Culture, I hear Logan mutter something to Ryan as they walk behind us.

  “She is my girlfriend,” Ryan responds and I turn my head. Logan is looking at me with an amused expression.

  “So you’re the one who tamed Jack the Stripper.”

  “The definition of tame must be different in Australia,” I joke, “because the last thing Ryan is, is tame.”

  “Compared to what he used to be like he is.”

  Ryan punches Logan in the arm, “I don’t think Alana needs to hear anymore about it.”

  “Nor does she want to,” I add dryly. I like living in blissful ignorance.

  “Hey, I’m just saying, you must be one hell of a woman.”

  I glance at Ryan, he’s straight-faced, but there’s a gleam in his eye, “She is.”

  When we get back to the VIP room, it’s close to 2 AM. Jill is passed out cold on the couch and there are a few make out sessions going on. Sean is in the corner trying to hit on one of Jill’s friends and he looks close to sealing the deal.

  It’s a regular bordello in here.

  “Does your brother hang out here often?” I ask Ryan.

  “Occasionally,” he answers, looking at the same thing I am. Sean in action. Now that he’s not heckling me, I notice he looks skinnier then the last time I saw him. His clothes are baggier and his face is thin. He’s still beautiful though, just like Ryan. “The best is when he gets mistaken for me.” Ryan’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “I’m not the only Pierce who’s donned a stripper pole.”

  “No way.” I gape at Ryan.

  “Swear to God.”

  “Now that’s a show I would pay to see.”

  “I wouldn’t let you.” Ryan snakes his arm around me possessively and nuzzles his nose in my hair. The gesture giving me the most sensitizing kind of chills.

  “Relax, I could never mistake Sean for you.” I kiss him tenderly, running my tongue along his bottom lip.

  “Good. Because I would have to kill him if he tried anything stupid with you.” And there’s a flash of warning in his eyes.

  “I don’t think he’d do that.” I try to pacify him. I don’t like that look one bit.

  “With Sean you never know.” He digs his fingers into my flesh and kisses me so hard it feels like he’s trying to brand his name onto my lips. “I’m going to go get my things and have a quick conversation with Daniel.”

  “Who’s Daniel?” I ask woozy, trying to recover from that imperious kiss.

  “The owner who approached me about Vegas. I want to tell him I’m in.”

  A little stab of reality hits me when Ryan says the word in. We’re really going to do this.

  “Okay, go. I’ll be fine. Do what you have to.”

  Ryan’s face lights up with a huge smile. “I am going to make you so happy,” he grabs my chin gently.

  “You already make me happy,” I breathe, just before he brings his mouth to mine again.

  “Don’t disappear,” he orders seductively.

  “That’s not my MO,” I jest.

  “Mine either. Not anymore.”

  “Nope, not anymore,” I agree, suddenly love struck. Ryan is undoubtedly the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  I watch Ryan walk out of the room, all hot bod and sexy confidence. Then I lean over the railing of the balcony near the wall, watching the club dance with life.

  “Ryan left you all by your lonesome?” Sean asks from my right side. His voice sounds exactly like Ryan’s.

  “He’s just getting his things. Where’s your mark?”

  “My mark?” Sean raises his eyebrows and I notice his pupils are teeny tiny.

  “Yeah, Jill’s friend who looked like she was begging you to bend her over in a bathroom stall.”

  “Dirty mouth,” Sean jibes. “You should eat a piece of Orbitz.”

  I roll my eyes, even though I sort of want to laugh.

  “I only look prim and proper, people can have many sides.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Then why do you keep treating me like you can’t see past the surface?”

  Sean doesn’t answer; he just stares fixated, like his mind is wandering other places.

  “Are you always so controlled?”

  “What?”

  “Uptight, you always seem so uptight.”

  “I’m not that uptight, my boyfriend is a stripper,” I argue.

  “Maybe,” Sean shrugs considering, “but I don’t think I buy that. I’ve watched you, you’ve been drinking all night, off doing God knows what with my brother and yet here you are completely composed, not one strand of hair out of place.”

  “I’m poised, what can I say? It’s the way I was brought up.”

  “Do you want to unwind?” Sean asks randomly.

  “Unwind how?” I ask, and somehow I already know the answer is going to be with something illegal.

  Sean holds his hand up and there’s a tiny pill between his thumb and index finger.

  “What’s that?”

  “X,” he answers, and my heart pounds. No way am I taking that.

  Sean and I stare eye to eye, him egging me on.

  “What does that number mean on your neck?” I ask.

  “It’s the number of days Ryan spent in jail,” Sean says without blinking, still holding the little white pill up to my face.

  “Why did you let him do it?”

  Sean’s eyes glaze over with a detached glare.

  “Because I’m weak,” he answers candidly, and I’m absolutely floored by his honesty.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan growls, causing Sean and I to both snap our heads in his direction.

  “Nothing, bro. Just trying to chill your girl out,” Sean says.

  “She doesn’t need to be chilled out,” Ryan grabs me and pulls me behind him. “And what are you doing with that junk?”

  “It’s nothing,” Sean tries to play it off.

  “It’s not nothing!” Ryan yells and I flinch, I’m not used to him raising his voice. “You get popped with that shit you go to jail. You’re on probation dickhead.”

  “For your information jagoff, I was released last week.”

  “And you’re right back to your old bullshit!”

  “It’s one little pill, it’s harmless.”

  “It’s not the one little pill I’m worried about, it’s the bag of little pills I’m sure you have stuffed in your pocket,” Ryan snaps. “And keep that crap away from Alana! What the fuck are you thinking?!”

  He’s not.

  “She wasn’t going to take it; she’s too good for that.”

  I’m trying to figure out if that was a dig or not. Sean is hard to read sometimes.

  “You’re goddamn right she’s too good, she’s too good for any of this,” Ryan fumes.

  “Don’t you mean she’s too good for you,” Sean leans into Ryan’s face provokingly, “Finally seeing the forest for the trees, brother?”

  Suddenly Ryan’s fist is flying through the air. I hear the whack as he clocks Sean right in the mouth, putting him on his ass, and then he goes after him.

  Holy shit!

  Sean and Ryan brawl relentlessly, throwing one vicious punch after the other; blood splattering all over the shiny
square table and white leather couch and poor comatose Jill. It looks like a crime scene. Then in one great rush every guy in the room swarms around them, eventually pulling them apart. Sean’s lip is bleeding and so is Ryan’s eye.

  “Get him out of here!” Ryan shouts and it doesn’t even sound like him. His voice is hoarse and hostile, and I wonder if I‘m getting a glimpse of a past Ryan, one who had to fight for his life for three long years.

  He rips his arms free from the two dancers holding him back, as Sean is dragged out of the room. Everyone is staring at Ryan with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Ryan snatches my hand and hauls me outside, pulling me down the dark hallway until we reach two steps that lead to another camouflaged door. Geez, there are secret entrances all over this building. He tows me inside then slams the door behind him; squeezing the shit out of my hand the whole time.

  “Ryan,” I say unevenly as he bangs the back of his head against the door. “Ryan, please calm down.” I put my hands on his shoulders, but he just stands there with his fists clenched and his body wound tight.

  “I can’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “He just makes me so fucking angry!”

  “I know, but he’s gone and I’m here.” I grip his shoulders. It’s scaring me to see him like this, but I know the only way to calm him down is to be cool and collected myself.

  “Alana, just talk to me,” he says with his eyes squeezed shut. “I just need to hear the sound of your voice right now.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” I say soothingly, and then rack my brain for something to say. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “I want that bed.”

  Ryan opens his eyes surprised, “What bed?”

  “The bed in the B and B. I love it.”

  Ryan gapes at me, “What?”

  “Yes, I love it, and I want one.”

  “Okay,” he says blankly, and I think my distraction is helping to subdue his anger. I think. I wipe some of the blood away from his eye then slip my arms around his neck and hug him tightly, “Are you okay?”

  “No,” he heaves a heavy sigh, then slides his hands around my waist. “Shit.” He drops his head into the crook of my neck, “I’m sorry.”