Wild Ways

by Tina Wainscott

  Mollie felt the heat at her cheeks. “No promises.” Can you remember that I’m saving your ass here and be a little more understanding?

  Katie took her arm and led her to a table. “Let’s get you dressed.” She started opening drawers. “Get naked while I look. Lilliana, where’s your wig?”

  “Third drawer down.” Lilliana turned to Mollie. “Honey, if you’re going to be a dancer, you can’t be shy about stripping in front of us.”

  Mollie’s frozen expression had nothing to do with that. In less than three minutes she was going to get naked, or nearly so, in front of a bunch of men. And Julian. Who, she realized, hadn’t actually seen her naked. This is for Di. For Lilliana. And because Mollie was going to find out more about this Ball. The woman owed her that much. Mollie stripped out of her clothes as Katie pulled out a long, black wig and a box of pins and clips.

  “I have some new panties in the second drawer,” Lilliana said. “To go with this.” She tossed the leopard outfit closer to Mollie. “Don’t get naked too early in the song. Tease, tease, tease.”

  Katie extracted a pair, tore off the tag with her teeth, and handed them to Mollie, who dutifully stepped out of hers and set them with her clothing.

  “Speaking of naked …” Katie surveyed Mollie’s pelvis. “You need to shave. You’re trimmed, but the patrons like us nearly bare.”

  “But the girls haven’t taken off their panties,” Mollie protested.

  “They pull them down and bend way over,” Katie said.

  “Shaver’s in the top drawer,” Lilliana said.

  Katie turned, armed with an electric shaver.

  “I’ll do it,” Mollie said, snatching it. She trimmed as close as she dared. She hadn’t been this hair-free since she was eleven. She wrestled into the outfit with Katie’s help, since it was nothing more than a bunch of strings. Katie helped pin the wig in place. When she looked in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself.

  “You’re me!” Lilliana said, a lazy drawl to her voice.

  “The song is almost over. You need to queue up,” Katie said. “Just walk quickly past Crystal. You don’t want her looking too closely. At a glance, you’ll pass for Lilliana. Once you’re onstage, the colored, flashing lights should camouflage you.” Katie handed her the pair of impossibly tall shoes. “Quick, strap them on.”

  “And walk in them how?” Mollie asked, doing as she was told.

  Katie escorted her toward the curtain, and with every step, Mollie’s stomach got tighter and tighter. The shoes had thick front platforms, so the heels looked higher than they actually felt. The Prince song about a little red Corvette was about to finish, unless they played the extended version.

  Please let them be playing that version. Then again, maybe not. That meant a couple more minutes of agony waiting here.

  She wondered what Lilliana’s song was, and then the baseline changed. The last girl came off with a tag-team slap of her hand, and Mollie was on. The female singer started off saying that she loved herself, and she wanted someone else to love her. Mollie tried to figure out what song it was as she strutted onto the stage. She knew it, a song from the nineties about …

  “When I think about you, I touch myself,” the singer proclaimed as Mollie’s gaze found Julian’s very shocked one.

  Oh, just lovely. She tried to look away from him and strutted toward the shiny brass pole. How had the girls used this thing? Too many thoughts crowded into her head, stalling her. The anticipation on the men’s faces wilted to confusion and annoyance.

  Think of Julian, of making love with him.

  She leaned back against the pole and slid up and down. Remembering Katie’s instructions, and the sexy, wanton woman Mollie was with Julian, she sank into the moment. Julian was now standing behind one of the chairs at the edge of the stage. That would make it easier. Well, if he didn’t look like he was going to throttle her.

  She sank to a crouch, her knees wide apart. Anchoring her hands on her knees, she rocked back and forth. Focusing on Julian, as though she were giving him a private dance, she went down to her hands and knees and made her hips writhe back and forth. His ire was fading. She pushed away the fact that her ass was right out there and thought about Julian’s arms around the front of her, anchoring her. Shoving up her bra, stroking her breasts. She drew her hand up and tugged the bottom of her skimpy top up enough to reveal the bottom curve of her breasts.

  Fingers grazed her as men leaned forward and tucked dollars into her strings. She hadn’t even thought about the money. She flattened herself, then rolled over and stretched her legs up into the air. Crossed her ankles, drew one shoe down the length of her leg. She had no idea if it was sexy, but the men made appreciative sounds and tucked more bills, so she kept moving.

  Except, how was she going to get up gracefully? As the singer proclaimed that she touched herself when she thought about whoever she was singing to, Mollie lifted her hips, spread her right leg, and ran her fingers along her inner thigh. As Lilliana had shown her, Mollie traced her finger along the edge of her panties. More appreciative sounds, so she rubbed her palm over herself and remembered how she’d felt when Julian’s fingers slid down inside her jeans.

  Guys were throwing bills at her now and whistling and, Lord, it was a little heady. Still, she kept her gaze on Julian, who was actually smiling in that sexy, dark way. She could see the question in his eyes, What the fuck? She’d have to answer the moment she returned to him.

  She rolled over, slid up to her knees, and amazingly, stood without wobbling. Trying to emulate the women she’d seen earlier, she swung around the pole, thrusting her hips toward it, then leaned way back.

  “Show us your tits!” one man yelled.

  Shit. She’d forgotten the, uh, stripping part. Julian elbowed the guy. “Respect,” he growled.

  “What’s it to you?” the guy responded, but upon seeing the murderous look on Julian’s face, turned back and trilled, “Let’s see your lovely breasts, honey.”

  Mollie tried really hard not to laugh. Damn, she needed that. She reached behind herself and tugged on the string. Pulling the ends, she danced with them. Lifted the bra, just a peek, down, and then slowly pulled it over her head. She wrapped the bra around her wrists and raised them to the pole, as though she were bound. More money rained on her. She slid her back up and down the pole, still “bound,” then realized the song was winding down.

  Thank goodness.

  She scooped up some of the folded bills and scooted toward that curtain, where the next dancer was waiting.

  The moment Mollie came through the door into the back lounge, Katie jumped up and down clapping. “You were incredible! That must have been some ho-ot sex, girlfriend.”

  Mollie’s gaze went to the couch—the empty couch. “Where’s Lilliana?”

  “That was her last number for the night. She was in a lot of pain, so she left. But she said thank you, and for you to keep the tips you made.”

  Her chance to get answers, gone. Mollie swallowed back the scream that pushed against her lips. No, no, this wasn’t fair! She robotically changed, shoving the wad of bills at Katie. “Here.”

  Katie pushed her hands back. “No, you keep it. You earned it. That’s all we get, you know. The motorcycle club takes our salary in return for room and board.” She tucked the bills into Mollie’s pockets.

  “Where do you stay?” Had she sounded as desperate as she felt for the answer?

  Katie shrugged. “I don’t know where the other girls are staying, the ones who’ve been with the club longer than I have. I’m staying with Crystal for the time being.” She grimaced, which made her look as though she were about ten.

  Mollie held onto Katie’s wrists. “Don’t let them pick you for the Ball. Get out. I can help.”

  Katie gave her a nervous laugh. “What are you talking about? The Ball is a privilege—”

  “No, it’s a death sentence. It’s—”

  “Lilliana! What’s the deal, you looking at one guy th
e whole time?” A man had stepped into the room, big, solid, dressed in black. His eyes narrowed. “You’re not Lilliana.”

  “She hurt her—”

  Crystal ran up beside the man. “It’s that new girl you sent back here.” She glared at Mollie, snatching the wig from her head. “What are you doing, taking Lilliana’s act?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t send any chick.”

  Uh-oh. This must be Damon.

  Mollie was inching toward that narrow space. “Okay, I lied. I just really wanted to dance. I’ll be leaving now.”

  His fingers tangled in her hair as she slipped past, jerking her back. “You sneaked in here?”

  “No, I’m a paying patron. I’m here with my boyfriend, and he dared me to go up on the stage. So I did.”

  “Get your hands off her.” Julian’s voice, low and lethal.

  She met Damon’s hard, cold gaze. “See, my boyfriend. Honey, I told them about your dare.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Sorry I got you into trouble.”

  As Julian approached, Damon released her. She stumbled, her back coming up against Julian.

  Damon pointed to a sign above the curtain that she hadn’t seen: “Employees only past this point.”

  “I didn’t see that, honest,” she said. Of course, she hadn’t really been looking. “It was just harmless fun. The customers seemed to enjoy my number.”

  “You need some work, babe,” Damon said, not unkindly. “You need to spread your gaze—and your legs more. But you’d be a contender for amateur night. We open the stage to anyone who wants a go. Sometimes we hire the better ones. Thursdays, eight o’clock.”

  She nodded as she pulled Julian back out to the main area, where Crystal was now onstage.

  “What the fuck?” he asked the moment they reached their table.

  “Ha. I knew you were going to say that. I could see it in your eyes, the way—”

  “Why don’t you just tell me exactly how you ended up stripping, because I really want to hear this.”

  After she explained, she added, “Di might be here tomorrow. I have hope again.”

  “It’s a good lead.” Julian shook his head. “Nice recover, too. A dare.” His nod of approval grew more enthusiastic. “You were amazing up there. I couldn’t decide whether I was pissed off or turned on.”

  She slid him a coy smile. “I was thinking about you the whole time.”

  He made a growling sound as he led her toward the door. “Okay, I’m striking the pissed-off part. What were you thinking about?”

  “Your hands touching me, bringing me to life. Your mouth on mine. The way you felt inside me, thrusting so hard I thought my insides were going to explode.”

  They exited, his arm around her waist. The moment they reached the bike, he turned her around and devoured her mouth. “Damn, Mollie, you were so fucking hot up there. Looking at me,” he said between kisses. “Touching yourself.” He ground his hips into hers, and oh, yes, he was definitely aroused. “I could take you right here.”

  She ground back, running her leg up the inside of his leg, heat spiraling inside her. “Okay.”

  He shook his head, even as he kissed her silly. “Not in a bar parking lot. Or the bathroom. No, Mollie, we’re getting a hotel. A nice one. And I’m going to love you properly.”

  Chapter 11

  Julian shouldn’t have said the word “love.” He saw the panic flit across her expression. Of course, he didn’t mean love love. Not after knowing her for only two days. But Mollie, with her dedication, her big heart, her courage, and her sexiness, was doing crazy things to his heart. Things he’d never felt before. Of course, there were crazy things happening elsewhere, too.

  When they burst through the hotel room door, he wasn’t thinking about love or her panic at the word. He was only thinking about her onstage as she looked at him. Only him.

  She jerked him against her, and he backed her up against the door, closing it in the process. She pulled up his shirt, then took him in as though he were some Adonis.

  “Strip for me, Mollie,” he said as he took her mouth again. “I want to watch you move like that and be able to do something about it.”

  Her eyes were wide and bright as she nodded, her smile a mix of shy and vixen. He forced himself to back away, because he was a hairsbreadth away from tearing off her clothes himself.

  She playfully chucked his chin. “But I want you naked as you’re watching me.”

  Ooh, did he like this side of her. He bent his leg to remove first one shoe, then the other.

  “I’ve made love with you and haven’t seen you naked yet,” she said as he shucked his pants and briefs.

  “I’ve held you naked through the night and still haven’t really seen you naked either.”

  Heat flared in her eyes as he raised his hands to his head in a stretch. Then he dug in the pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a condom, which he tossed onto the nightstand. Then he turned on his phone.

  “You are not seriously checking your text messages now?” she said.

  “Hell no. I’m pulling up my music app so I can buy ‘I Touch Myself.’ I’m all over seeing you dance to that again. And touching yourself.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I had to do that. It’s one of Lilliana’s signature moves.”

  “It’s downloading now.” He piled up the pillows and settled back on the bed to watch. “What’s your stage name?”

  “I chose Mira. You called me that earlier. I hope it’s not some ex-girlfriend of yours.”

  “Nope. Actually, I’ve only had one girlfriend. Mira is a common nickname you hear among Puerto Ricans. Ready?”

  She nodded, and as the music started, swayed her hips slow and seductive. Only the light coming in through the window lit the room, making it much more intimate than the club. Of course, the lack of fifty men gawking helped, too.

  She shimmied down in that sexy move she’d done onstage, running her hands up the front and then the inside of her thighs, over her breasts. She pushed her hands up into her brown hair, lifting it off her neck. The top she wore already molded to her curves, showing off that creamy swell of cleavage. His fingers twitched to touch her, but he held himself still.

  She pulled up her shirt, slowly, teasingly. Only a glimpse of her black bra, then covering it, all the while gyrating her hips. She finally freed herself and tossed the shirt aside. She ran her hands over the cups of her bra, down her stomach, and to the waistband of her pants. She unbuttoned and unzipped, turned around, and stuck out that sweet ass as she shifted back and forth while pushing them down. She still wore those leopard panties from her act, with the black string going right up her crack. When she bent way, way over to pull the pants free of her feet … damn. His own private, exotic dancer. He was muttering Spanish in his head.

  She spun around and ran her fingers down along the inside ridge of her bra. Her fingers came together at the clip, and she freed those luscious mounds. She shrugged out of the bra, letting it fall from her finger. She danced for him, rotating her hips, tilting her head back, which made her hair fall all the way to her ass.

  “Oh, querida, you are amazingly hot.” And amazing in many other ways, too.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this. That part of me you woke up is now roaring out of me.”

  Something shifted in his chest. He’d woken her. Only him. He had to release a long breath to ease the pressure building in his chest.

  Mollie pulled her hair over her shoulders to demurely cover her nipples. She ran her finger along the string at the side of the panties back and forth as she eased them down ever so slowly. Holy shit, he’d awakened a vixen.

  He held back another stream of Spanish when he saw that she had shaved herself clean. She gave him an agonizing hard-on as she drew out taking off that one lone piece of … well, he wouldn’t call it clothing. String and a scrap of fabric.

  Finally, she swung it from her finger as she approached the bed. The moment she got close enough, he grabbed
her and wrapped himself around her, needing to possess her. “I miss the red hair.”

  “This is probably more interesting. Dark, sexy, instead of washed-out red.”

  “Are you kidding me?” But she wasn’t. She really thought her hair color was bland. “Your hair is the color of red clover honey, amber ale, everything delicious. You are an incredible, sexy woman. I almost came just watching you.”

  She kissed him hard, pulling herself even closer against him. Then she pushed him back on the bed and kissed down his neck, across his chest. He scrunched his fingers in her hair, stroking her scalp as her mouth moved over every inch of his stomach. Then she took his cock and sucked and kissed and licked, and he really had to fight the impending orgasm. He wanted to do that inside her. She moved down his legs, granting him mercy. Then she kissed all the way back up, over his cock and stomach.

  He flipped her onto her back and took pleasure in the time that he hadn’t been able to indulge in earlier. He loved on her, giving every inch of her body the same kind of attention she’d given his. Her breath caught as he nibbled, suckled, licked, and kissed, and then she gasped when he spread her legs and his mouth did more of the same. He made her come again and again, as she clutched the sheets and tried to wriggle away after the second orgasm. Then he worked his way across her stomach and breasts, then hovered over her to kiss her.

  He ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, and all these crazy words crashed into his head. Like “mine” and “stay with me” and things he hadn’t thought in years. Back then he’d been a teenager. Now he was a grown man who knew what those words really meant. And the way she was looking at him, with big doe eyes, he guessed the same thing was happening to her. He kissed her so none of them would escape, not yet. Like a doe, she would spook.

  “Any particular position that turns you on?” he asked instead. “I aim to please.”

  “I haven’t tried that many. Pretty much the standards. But today, there was nothing standard about making love with you.” A slow smile spread across her face. “I loved that. So I’m game for anything.”