by Harper Sloan
When he turns and faces Nate, doing some hand slap and foot kick with him, I settle in against the shadowed wall with Ember and feast on the show. My eyes zoom in on our men, both of them working the main bar and dancing together as if they've practiced some routine, playing off the other in favor of hyping up the ladies screaming below them. Shane's got his dark button-down shirt wide open, flapping around with each move of his body to the rhythm echoing around us--making the music feel even more powerful when you're watching the show that accompanies each beat. The taut ab muscles flexing with each thrust and dip of his hips. That V dipping into the waistband of his black slacks makes my mouth water, wanting nothing more than to lick each hard ridge.
"They need a warning when they're acting like this," I muse, speaking loud enough for Ember's ears only.
"You aren't wrong." She giggles, taking a sip of her drink. I look over and frown at her water. She just shrugs and winks.
"You aren't!" I exclaim.
Even in the darkness, I can see her whole face come to life. She's radiating happiness as if someone stuck a light bulb in her butt and cranked it up to full power.
"We found out two weeks ago. I told Nate, after this one, my baby factory is on temporary strike."
"Yeah, right." I snort. "That man was out of control when you were preggers with Quinnie. I told you then, and I'll remind you now; he's got some weird fetish with you being pregnant."
She shrugs, her bright red shirt falling off her shoulder, exposing the top swell of her boob. She doesn't move to adjust it; instead, she turns to smirk at her man while he continues to move seductively. When I look back at her, I understand why she didn't catch the fact that her shirt was about to flash anyone close to her.
"Are they ... wet?"
"Mmmhmm," she confirms, still not looking away.
"How ... when ... aren't they going to chafe?"
Her elbow jabs me in the side, and she has to hold herself up against the wall as she laughs uncontrollably. I frown at my best friend, which only makes her laugh even harder.
"You're something else, Nik. Only you would see some of the hottest moves outside a strip club and be worried about them getting a rash."
"What?" I exclaim, frowning. "It's a valid concern."
The guys jump from the smaller platform in the middle of the main bar, over a laughing Denton's head, and back to the bar top they started on, directly in front of the female patrons still going nuts. The song had, at some point in our gawking, changed to a popular dance song I couldn't recall the name of. I don't remember the guys ever doing their spotlight dances for more than one song, so they must be just as lost in their enjoyment of performing as we are in their enticing moves. An idea sparks in my head, and I make a note to bring it up to Shane. He might not want me to work here, but that doesn't mean I can't help make my man's business a little more successful. Plus, with Nate's growing family, I doubt he would say no to guaranteed income.
"When did they add the wet stage?" I ponder, pushing my other thoughts back until I see Shane later, watching him toss his head back and laugh at something Nate says. The longer strands of hair on the top of his head spray the crowd with water.
"He looks happy."
"Well, of course, he looks happy, chica. He's got the second-best woman in Hope Town," Ember titters.
"Second best, huh?" I jest, ignoring the heat that blooms on my cheeks for being busted speaking my thoughts.
She just shrugs. "He does, though. I've never seen him this ... I don't know, carefree? He always seems so tense. As if he's holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's a good look on him. You too, for that matter."
"Me? I'm always happy!"
Her smile gets soft with a hint of sadness. "You haven't been, but that's not important now, Nik. I like the look Shane gives you."
"And that would be what?"
"Contentment."
I look at Ember, and she studies me with a serene expression on her delicate features. She knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I shouldn't be shocked that she came to that conclusion, but hearing it out loud makes me wonder just how unhappy I had been without even realizing it.
"Back to your other question. They added the center stage a couple of weeks ago, but just got the plumbing rigged for that little nugget of wet hotness the other day. I knew Nate was eager to try it out, so I'm not shocked Shane was too."
"That was a good call."
"Oh, you aren't wrong." She giggles. "I make Nate practice his moves in the shower all the time. Something's insanely hot about them moving like that anyway, but you add in the water and plaster their clothes to their skin ... and, well, it's downright sinful. Every hard inch is in your face, if you know what I mean."
"I think it's safe to say every woman in proximity knows what you mean," I add on a laugh, watching the ladies go a little crazy when the song ends and both Shane and Nate drop back down behind the bar, slapping each other's backs in a manly hug.
"Are you okay with that?" Ember asks, genuine concern in her question.
"With what?"
"This," she says, pointing the top of her water bottle toward the large room before us. "Him dancing, the flirting that's involved in what they do, exposing his skin to capitalize on the fact that these people keep coming and fantasizing about them being more than just a nightlife attraction. I know they don't dance much anymore, just once or twice a week, but it still happens."
"You sound like Shane now," I huff, leaning back against the wall. "He's mentioned his concern that I wouldn't be okay with it. Em, I am, honest. Maybe some other girls wouldn't be, but it's just a big freaking turn-on for me. You've never been jealous of Nate."
She continues to nod after I stop talking. "That's how I look at it. It's like a big game of foreplay between Nate and myself. I just wanted to make sure."
"Yeah," I breathe, moving my head to the side to try to glimpse Shane through the packed room. It still amazes me that, on a night in the middle of the week, this place is full to bursting with people.
"What do you say we go surprise our men?" she coos, tipping her head toward the bar with a wink. "I'm feeling the need to be a little naughty."
I hook my arm with hers, smiling at my friend. "I forgot how horny you were when you were pregnant with Quinnie. I swear, Em, you're like the angel who gave in to the dark side and just wants to be bad all the time when you're pregnant."
"Well, come on, girlfriend, and step to the dark side with me!" She starts walking, pulling me behind her, both of us clumsy with our hilarity as we walk.
It takes us a second to fight through the bodies. I lead the way, pushing people out of the way and making sure Ember has a clear path. I know her new little addition is safe inside her, but I can't help but be protective of her even more than normal with this many hungry women around us. When the guys dance, the men who frequent Dirty looking for an easy lay scatter until they can pounce on the groundwork laid down by the Dirty boys.
"Would you move!" I yell at the tall redhead standing between me and the bar.
"Back off!"
"I hate the groupies when they think they'll actually catch the eye of anyone who works here. Don't you, Em?"
She giggles at my back, and even through the music, I can hear it clearly.
"What did you just say?"
"Uh, move?" I answer with a roll of my eyes.
"Listen here, Barbie. I've been waiting for one of those two to finish up so we could go play, and I'll move when one of them lets me know they're ready."
I toss my head back and laugh.
"Have they actually said they were going to take you off to some dark corner and give you something every other woman in here is thirsty for?"
"They don't have to say the words, not when they're dancing just for me."
I have to hold in my laughter now. Wow, she's a few screws loose. "Let me try this again. Have you ever seen any of them give any more than the dancing they just blessed your eyes with?"<
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She loses a little of her cocky attitude, knowing that I'm on to her.
"That's not how they do."
"That's not how they do," I parrot. "Em," I call over my shoulder, my best friend wiggling under my arm and popping her head into the space between me and the redheaded Tarzan.
"What's up, sista from another mister?"
"Our new friend here says she's waiting for the two guys who just stopped dancing. Did you know they can let someone know they want some action just by thrusting their hips on top of a bar?"
"Why, no Nikki, I had no idea!" She gasps sarcastically, her eyes round with mirth.
"Gosh, we've been doing it all wrong." I press my hand to my forehead.
"Maybe you should just hike that shirt down and give it a try. I mean, if all we have to do is stand here and blink at them, maybe we can get some action too!"
Ember snorts and almost loses her control over the laughter fighting to break free.
"You don't have what they want," the nasty woman in front of me says with a nasty sneer.
"I don't?" I whine, looking down at the tight black dress I put on. The low cut in the front not extreme. Yet. I move my arms and pull the front down, the straps pulling against my shoulders. Reaching into the built-in bra, I tug my boobs and give my cleavage a little more va-va-voom. Then I run my fingers through my hair and tousle the strands. "Em, I'm not a troll, right?"
"Nooooo," she says with a long drag. "I mean, if our friend is so sure she's who they want, it shouldn't matter. Right, sweetheart?" She looks up at the woman and blinks.
Challenge down. I see the exact moment it's picked up and accepted too. A nasty expression crosses her face, and she steps to the side. I see a few people almost fall over when she bumps into them, my eyes only caring about the spot open right at the edge of the bar now. Just big enough for Ember and myself to fit. Shane and Nate are busy at each end of the bar. When we step up, Dent looks up and opens his mouth, presumably to take our orders, but just smirks.
"Ladies," he croons. "What can I get for you?"
"Two of Dirty's best," I answer with a wink. "Make them both sinfully delicious and a whole lot of naughty, would ya?"
He shakes his head, laughing at us, and quick to cotton on, he turns and rings some bell above his head.
"That's my bell," Ember says against my ear so that the woman drilling daggers with her glares doesn't hear her. I see Nate's head pop up and zoom in on us before a grin takes over and he stops what he's doing right away.
Halfway down the bar toward us, he yells out Shane's name. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs a bat signal, motherfucker!" he bellows with a deep chuckle.
Shane frowns at him before following the finger pointing at us. When he sees both Ember and myself, his frown vanishes and that wolfish grin makes me thirsty ... for the promise I can see in his eyes even in the dim room.
"Dent, call Travis if you need backup. He's working VIP with Matt, but they're good with just one back there. We're taking a real fucking long break, if you catch my drift."
Dent mutters something under his breath but nods at his two bosses.
"Step back, ladies."
We do as Nate asks, and so does an arch of bodies around the bar. Then one after the other, they put their palm against the wood, and with a leap, they sail over the edge and land on their feet, right next to each other in front of us.
"Hi," I greet Shane, smiling up at the man who only has eyes for me. I forget about Ember and Nate the second my man's burning gaze is devouring me with intensity.
A smirk slips through that fierce study of his as he continues to silently appraise me, but I only see it for a second before he bends, shoulder gently digging into my belly as he stands and lifts me off my feet. One of his large hands covers the area between my legs where my dress would otherwise be flashing the room, and then he's off--his feet falling heavy and jarring me slightly.
I love it.
Before we get far, though, I press my hands against his butt and push to lift my gaze. When I see the same redhead who had been so sure these men would be hers, I give her a wink before grabbing a handful of Shane's firm ass and sticking my tongue out at her.
Childish, sure.
But I win.
Shane tosses me off his shoulder, and I land with a squeal on the soft leather couch in his office. I look around at the rich brown and cream tones of his office, having never been in here before, and smile at him.
"Surprise, pumpkin," I offer, winking at the man breathing hard in front of me. I can only guess what he's thinking. I know his reservations about me being able to handle his job, but if he doesn't see me being able to handle what he does when he takes the stage, he'll never believe I love it.
"What are you doing here?"
"Just enjoying a girls' night. So how's the weather tonight? If I had known it would rain, I would have let you take my umbrella to work," I jest, loving it when his eyes get dark.
"You saw?"
I shift, the ache between my legs growing as I remember how he had moved when the water started to rain down on them. "Oh, yeah."
"And?" he continues his questions, body taut and tense. He's bracing. I hate his ex even more for putting the thought in his head that no one would accept something he clearly loves to do.
"I think, next time, you should take a little more off. It's not fair to just tease everyone with unbuttoning your shirt, sugar lips."
"Nikki," he growls.
"Cross that one off too?"
He doesn't answer; instead, he steps the last couple of feet between us and pulls me to my feet. Even with the tension radiating off him, his touch is gentle.
"The crowd ate that up, Shane. It was so hot seeing you move like that, knowing that your body is mine and not theirs."
Another animalistic groan comes rumbling from his lips. He doesn't speak, so I weigh my words and continue.
"In fact, I think you need to step up the game here. Make that little extreme show something you guys only do on a feature theme night." I tap my chin, trying to come up with a witty name. The second it hits, I feel giddy. "Filthy," I murmur.
"What?" he asks, some of the harshness in his body receding and flowing from his tenseness as he continues to run his hands over my body.
"Dirty Dog gets Filthy."
I see the confusion.
"I've been here when you guys just dance, but tonight, both you and Nate let loose and just had fun. It wasn't hard to see you and think of what you looked like when you were stripping. I'm not saying go buy a bunch of banana hammocks and start doing it again, but who's to say you can't marry both worlds and give those thirsty women one night when Dirty Dog is Filthy Dog."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he hedges, but I can see my idea has already taken root.
"I don't?" I ask, taking his hand and lifting my dress up until my panties are bared. His nostrils flare, but he lets me continue to manipulate his arm. I press his palm against my thigh, smiling to myself when he has to bend to make up the height difference. Still, he lets me play. I drag his hand up until he's cupping my sex. My soaking wet sex. "I think I know exactly what I'm talking about. Dance for me, Shane. Give me your filthy."
And he does just that; the only thing louder than my screams is the music still blaring in the club below us. That night, I learn just how much fun it can be to get dirty.
"DID EMBER TELL YOU WHAT time they would be ready for dinner?" Shane asks, walking out of his closet while tying his black tie. I lick my lips. When I don't answer, he looks up from his task. "Really?"
"What?"
"I'm tying my tie, mon belle."
That phrase has joined his growing list of French endearments. My beautiful. That one started a few days ago, about a week after I made him make me filthy. It doesn't come often, as he still favors hummingbird, but I soak it up each time he croons those two words in my direction.
"It's hot." I shrug. What does he expect from me? Two nights ago,
he used the tie he had been wearing at work to tie my hands together and take me hard against his kitchen table. I'll never look at a tie the same again.
"Fucking cute," he mutters under his breath, turning and looking at the mirror behind his bedroom door to finish. "What time are we meeting them?"
I pick my phone up off the bed and smooth the deep purple lace of my dress. "In about an hour? She said her mom was picking up Quinnie at six, and they would meet us at the restaurant no later than seven. Our reservation is for fifteen after."
He nods, giving a little jiggle to the knot he just tied until it did whatever he wanted. Turning, he walks over to the edge of the bed, bends over, and takes my mouth in a deep kiss. When he pulls away and just looks into my eyes, I squirm under his attention.
"What?"
"Liberty is excited to meet you," he answers.
"I'm excited to meet her."
"Though, if she calls me nonstop the next time I've got my cock deep inside you, there won't be family dinners for a long fucking time."
I giggle as last night comes back in a rush of embarrassing hilarity.
"It's not funny, cherie."
"It's so funny, handsome."
"You didn't think so last night when I stopped fucking you," he returns with a brow high.
I smack his arm playfully. "You answered the phone!" I laugh. "You just pushed in deep, left me tied to your bed, and took a call from your baby sister."
He groans and drops his forehead to my chest. "I had to, Nik. She wouldn't have fucking stopped calling until I did. It was easier to get her off the phone quickly by letting her know I wasn't on the side of the road somewhere and pretending I didn't have your wet pussy hugging my cock so tight it was pure torture not to move when I talked to her."
"Maybe we should have a nice talk with her about calling hours," I joke, not even the tiniest bit serious. Seeing him awkwardly tell his sister he couldn't talk only to get tricked into a makeshift family dinner so she could see Nate and Ember and meet her brother's new girlfriend was priceless. He would have agreed to anything to end that call.