Strip Me Bare

by M. Never

  “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.

  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 have 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?” He pushes tentatively.

  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.” I consider.

  “Really? You’ll come?” I think he’s as shocked at my split decision as I am.

  “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 forward 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 runs his fingers down my side.

  “Wrapped around it?” I laugh loudly. “I’m lying right in the middle of it.” I stare up at the white decorative molding on the ceiling that looks as if it’s made out of delicate filigree.

  “I never finished your back rub.” Ryan attempts to distract me from my uncertainties. It will work on the surface, but deep down my uncertainties will always be there.

  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 reminisces, “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 traces 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 my chest and cups one of my breasts.

  “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” Ryan digs his erection into my ass.

  Arching underneath him, I lift myself up 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 from my soaked center, seconds before he flips me right over the edge.

  With my arms still stretched over my head and my breathing labored, Ryan crawls on top of me. “I want to love you, baby.” He spreads my legs open with his, before surging into me without any warning, the rush causing me to gasp as I clutch the sheets and press my forehead firmly against the mattress.

  “God, you feel so fucking good, I can’t even stand it.” Ryan grinds out the words like pulverized salt.

  I am completely full. Completely full of him in my body, and my heart. Ryan rests his forehead between my shoulder blades and just breathes. It’s a titillating sound. Lying here, unmoving, listening to dreamy music, being together is extraordinarily profound. When he said he wanted to love me, he meant in more ways than one. He wants a connection. The ultimate connection.

  His erection pulses inside me while his breathing becomes strained.

  “I need to move.” He nips at my neck. “I need to feel you.” He hooks one arm underneath me and slightly lifts my hips.

  “You have me,” I whisper submissively. Ryan groans feverishly as he begins to move the same way he dances—passionately, keenly, instinctively. Feeding my body exactly what it needs. Exactly what it’s craving. Devouring me with each pull and every push.

  As I listen to Ryan’s tortured sighs, feel his slick skin slide across mine, and consume the painstakingly slow rhythm of his hips as he slides in and out of me over and over, my mind goes blank, leaving nothing. 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 nothing but a hot spring of yearning as my climax builds deep within my core. Aching and throbbing, I’m desperate for every inch of him.

  “Do you like the way I touch you?” He slams into me.

  “Yes,” I gasp, completely helpless to the constrictive hold he has on my body, not to mention my mind.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” He slams into me again.

  “Yes!” I cry out, every muscle in my belly coiling into a compressed spring. I can hardly stand it, I’m going to shatter. “Ryan, please.”

  “I know, baby.” He sucks on my shoulder, my muscles expanding and contracting around him. “Let go. I want to feel you let go.”

  With one last, hard thrust he snaps me like a rubber band, and I choke out my orgasm as he pulls harder on my hair.

  “Alana.” My name rips from his throat in almost an agonizing plea as he finds his own release right alongside mine, his arm tightening around my waist, rendering me still. Then he collapses on top of me, his breath hot and heavy against my back. Both of us panting and physically depleted.

  “You’re so fucking incredible.” He wraps his arms and legs around me and rolls us onto our sides.

  “I think you’re the incredible one. You did all the work.”

  Ryan chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back. “I like you submissive.”

  “I like the way you make love to me.” I exhale languidly.

  “I’ll make love to you the rest of your life if you’ll let me.” He hugs me tighter.

  Hmmm . . . W
hen you persuade a girl like that, who can say no?

  “So, when is this Vegas thing supposed to happen?” I pump Ryan for details as I pull my shirt over my head.

  “Not for a while. The end of next year, maybe.” He tries to lift it back up, but I slap his hand away. We’ve been playing this little game for the last half hour.

  “How am I ever supposed to leave this room if you won’t let me get dressed?”

  “Who says I want to leave?”

  “We can’t stay in here all night.”

  “Yes, we can.” Ryan grabs me, and throws me back onto the mattress. I squeal.

  “Emily is going to be wondering what happened to us.”

  “So?” He crawls on top of me and stares down.

  “So—” I don’t have an answer for that.

  “I want to know you’re really okay with this.”

  “With what? Moving to Vegas so you can launch into superstar stripper stardom?”

  “Superstar stripper stardom?” Ryan raises his eyebrows, then his expression morphs into something wicked. Oh, no. He dispatches a tickle assault on my ribcage before I can think.

  “Ryan!” I shriek, writhing and kicking and gasping for air, powerless under his attack. Before long we’re both laughing so hard, neither of us can breathe. This is exactly why I love him so much. Why I couldn’t live without him. He sets me free.

  “Yes, I’m okay with it.” I think. “We’ll be together, that’s all that matters. Just make sure you remember who you’re coming home to at night.”

  “I already told you, I could never forget.” Ryan swipes his thumb across my cheek and kisses me chastely.

  “Good, because my threat still stands.”

  “I remember. You’ll make me understand the true definition of pain.”

  “The acutely unpleasant physical discomfort experienced by somebody who is violently struck, injured, or ill,” I rattle off.

  Ryan rolls his eyes, and I laugh.

  “You’re such a geek.”

  Ryan locks the door to the B and B and slips the key back into his jean pocket, just as Emily emerges from behind some hanging beads with a big, buff blond guy in tow. She freezes when she sees Ryan and me, the expression on her face classic. She was 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 assures her with a surrendering hand gesture.

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

  “Is that like your mantra or something?” I recall 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 laugh aloud, clutching her tightly.

  “Where were you?” She turns the interrogation on me. She clearly 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?”

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

  Her eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

  “Oh, shit, is right.”

  Logan and Ryan mutter under their breaths as they walk behind us.

  “I thought you didn’t go in there? And what happened to your girlfriend?” I catch Logan ask.

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

  “What?” I question under his pointed stare.

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

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

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

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

  “Nor does she want to,” I add dryly. The little bit I do know is enough.

  “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 a.m. Jill is passed out cold on the couch and there are a few make-out sessions going on here and there. Sean is in the corner trying to hit on one of Jill’s friends, looking close to sealing the deal.

  It’s a regular bordello in here.

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

  “Occasionally.” He’s looking at the same thing I am. Sean in action. Now that he’s not heckling me, I notice he looks skinnier than 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 gives 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.” There’s a flash of warning in his eyes, and a threat in his tone.

  “I don’t think he’d do that.” I pacify him, not liking his response 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.”

  “Daniel?” I ask, woozy, trying to recover from the overbearing 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 announces 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, rabidly 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. Alone, I lean over the railing of the balcony near the wall, watching the club dance with life. It’s a show all on its own.

  “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?” He looks right through me, 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,” he scoffs.

  “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 pla
ces.

  “Are you always so controlled?” he asks absurdly.

  “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 offers randomly.

  “Unwind how?”

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

  “What the hell is 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 have always wanted to know and this seems like a perfect time to ask.

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

  “Why did you let him do it?” I am desperate for answers. For Sean’s side of the story.

  Sean’s eyes glaze over with a detached glare.

  “Because I’m weak.” He’s candid, and I’m floored by his honesty.

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

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

  “She doesn’t need to be chilled out.” Ryan yanks 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 erupts and I flinch. He barely ever raises his voice. It’s uncharacteristic. “You get popped with that shit you go to jail. You’re on probation, dickhead.”

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