“Roxie! You’re up next, sweetheart!” Grant yells to her from outside of the dressing room.
She startles at the sound of his voice. Holy Hell’s bells.
Is she really going to go through with this?
Is she really going to walk out on that stage and dance…and get—gulp—naked?
“You all right, girlie?” Kitty stands behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror of Daniella’s designated vanity.
She only shrugs in response. Kitty’s red-painted nails run softly through her hair as a concerned look crosses her very done-up face. Obviously Kitty is ready for tonight; this is the norm for her.
This is not the norm for Daniella. She can feel the tremble in her hand as she applies her last layer of mascara. Her eyes hesitantly observe her appearance. She’s come a long way from the little girl in knee socks and pigtails. She’s gone all out for her first night on stage. Smokey eyes and thick lashes, blush highlighting her already prominent cheek bones, and lip gloss to make her gorgeously full mouth stand out for the crowd. She is sexy tonight, no doubt, but she can’t fight the incessant punch in her gut that serves as a constant reminder of what she is about to do.
There is no turning back after this.
It’s one thing to do a striptease in an empty club for Penn, but it’s a whole other thing to step out onto that stage with a packed club full of watchful eyes observing her every move. A club filled with customers who are more than ready to watch strippers take their clothes off and dance erotically across the stage. Her body will be bared and vulnerable, and at about three minutes into her song, she won’t have any clothing to hide behind.
“Are you sure, Roxie?” Kitty asks again, her face still worrisome and concerned.
Daniella nods. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little nervous. First night on stage… Just normal first-timer jitters.”
“You don’t have to go through with it. Just say the word and I’ll get you out of here.”
She sighs heavily at the offer. “I know. It’s all good. I’ve got tuition to pay, remember?”
Kitty raises a single questioning brow in Daniella’s direction. “I know, girlie, but this isn’t the only way. I know Penn would be the first one to help you out.”
Yeah, he sure would, but she has no desire to be indebted to him for the rest of her life. Lord only knows how long it would take for her to pay back the money, and she can’t stand the idea of him helping her out in that kind of way. She’s not his responsibility. Yeah, he seems to play the big brother card far too often, but in the end, she’s adamant that she can take care of herself.
Daniella waves Kitty off with feigned indifference. “Don’t worry your pretty little face about it. I’m good to go. I’m a little excited to be honest. I can imagine it’s quite the rush out there.”
A knowing smile crests Kitty’s bright red lips as a small giggle escapes her lungs. “I’m going to finish getting ready, but you come get me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
Kitty leans down and hugs her briefly around the shoulders before whispering, “Good luck,” in her ear and then striding away.
“I can do this. I can definitely do this,” Daniella mutters to herself as she slides her silver stilettos on. She stands in front of the floor-length mirror and hesitantly slips off the black silk robe. Her eyes go wide once her entire body comes in to view. Damn.
She looks good…sensational, actually. She’s adorned every inch of her skin with small diamonds. Her body glitters and shines under the florescent light above the mirror. The effect of the jewels will look even better with the club lights dimmed and colorful spotlights hovering over her naked form. Her legs appear long and lean and endlessly toned. A small G-string is the only thing covering her goods.
“Roxie!” Grant shouts in her direction as he peeks in behind the dressing room door. “Come on, baby. Get a move on it!”
Daniella quickly dons her body in the white lace and silk scarves to conceal the rest of her body and heads for the stage. She might as well be having an out-of-body experience. All of her nerves are heightened, her pulse pounds relentlessly in her ears. She barely hears the emcee announce her.
“I can do this,” she mutters to herself again.
Five deep breaths are all she accomplishes before she receives her cue to hit the stage.
Five deep breaths and she relinquishes, her mind taking her away to some place unlike anywhere she’s ever been. Somewhere deep inside of her brain that thrives off secret fantasies. The hidden, dirty dreams she’s never told a single soul. She lets another part of her personality shine through. She isn’t Daniella, the girl who spends her days at class and nights helping her parents at Nadine’s Diner. She’s Daniella, the woman, the seductress, the siren who gets off on hundreds of men watching her with lust-ridden, hooded eyes as she moves erotically.
She will be their focus and all of them will want her.
The initial beats of She Wants to Move by N.E.R.D. pound through the huge speakers in front of the stage. The lights are dimmed and the stage is dark as Daniella strides out, the heady music taking over her movements. Spotlights begin to follow her path as she moves provocatively across the stage. Her body is sheathed by white lace and silk, the diamonds glimmering sensually under the red and pink lights flashing across her body.
She doesn’t pay attention to the group of men huddled around the stage.
She doesn’t look at crowd. She doesn’t look at anyone.
She pictures Penn sitting alone in the empty room, his eyes focused intently on her as she shows him all of the things she wishes she could do. Her hips sway hypnotically, her legs using long, fluid, graceful movements. She’s the epitome of femininity, oozing enough sexual heat to light the entire club on fire.
The faint sound of wolf whistles, cat calls, and appreciative cheers threaten to bring her back to reality, but she fights the noise. She bends over seductively, the stilettos only accentuating the perfect curve of her ass. The lace and silk brush the ground as Daniella dips low, spreading her body on the floor. She slides effortlessly across the cool surface. The music is her motivation. She turns on her back, her hips thrusting to the pounding, relentless bass. Her hands run all over her body, caressing herself, touching herself, and making herself feel the music. Feel the pounding beat, feel the vibrations from the speakers, feel everything.
The crowd is entranced by her, unable to pull their eyes away from the goddess letting go on stage. Their eyes are lustful, excited, and beyond turned on. Everyone in attendance at Wild Nights is mesmerized. Her body remains covered by the thin, sheen material as she moves towards the pole. Her mouth-watering curves peek through the silk. Her body urges several jaws to drop in anticipation of seeing more. They want more. They want everything. And tonight, Daniella is prepared to give it. She’s completely lost in her fantasy.
As her hands grasp the pole, a commotion pulls her eyes away from the stage and she peers out into the crowd. Her movements come to an immediate halt when she finds fierce blue eyes locked on her. She’s frozen, still as a statue once the familiarity of those eyes seeps in.
Penn is here and he’s stalking towards her with purposeful movements, heading directly for the stage. He is predator and she is prey. The crowd moves out of his way, no questions asked. This cowboy is pissed. Beyond pissed, actually. Anger, rage, and absolute fury are etched all over his masculine, handsome face. Daniella can even make note of the sharp scowl that sits below the shadow of his cowboy hat. His black boots stomp determinedly up the stage steps, and in a matter of seconds, he’s gripping her tightly around the waist and throwing her nearly naked body over his shoulder.
She squeals in shock. “Penn!” she screeches over the blaring music.
Cat-calls and whistles along with several pissed-off patrons begin to shout towards them, but that doesn’t stop him. Penn stalks off the stage and straight to the studio apartment nestled away in the back of the building.
“
What the hell!” Daniella yells again, her fists slamming furiously against his back.
“Not another word. Not another fucking word,” he growls through clenched teeth.
His feet make quick work of the small staircase, and without the slightest difficulty, Penn unlocks the door and carries her in. The visual of seeing her up on stage, all eyes on her, every single bastard in the club watching her has him enraged. He can hardly contain his anger. Penn has never wanted to harm a woman in his life, but tonight, he has the urge to shake the ever-living shit out of her. She lied and she damn well knew he didn’t want her up on that stage. No, he wasn’t exactly truthful with her regarding his motives for never letting her dance, but that is beside the point.
“Put me down!”
Her body slowly slides down his until she’s finally standing on her own two feet. She’s nearly five inches taller with her stilettos and she still has to tilt her head to look up into his eyes. She wrenches the cowboy hat from his head and throws it across the room carelessly. Her finger pokes hard into his chest.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she questions, demanding answers from him. Her feisty temper is on full display.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” Penn shouts back at her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He points an angry finger in her direction.
Daniella’s temper has her brain racing a million miles a minute. She can’t think straight, can’t find the words to put this asshole in his place. Her breathing is uneven; heavy breaths have her chest moving up and down frantically.
His eyes involuntarily move down, following the path of diamonds and silk and lace. Her lush curves are more than apparent underneath the see-through material covering her skin. Her chest heaves in the most intoxicating way. His temper is slowly falling…but other things are rising. His cock twitches underneath denim, practically begging for Penn to ravish her, to crash his mouth to hers and work her body over until she can’t remember her fucking name.
Daniella turns away from him, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. The click of stilettos and her harsh breathing are the only sounds he can hear. Her round ass sashays on those ridiculous heels, and he has the intense urge to sink his teeth into that luscious, toned flesh.
She abruptly turns and faces him, holding both hands out in the air in exasperation. “Why did you do that? You just carried me off the stage like a caveman! I don’t understand! I was good. I was really good tonight. You didn’t even give me a chance! I don’t need a big brother, Penn. Cryin’ all night! I’ve got two for fuck’s sake!”
“Big brother?” A low, tense chuckle falls from his lips as he runs his fingers through his disheveled hair. Even messy, he still has picture-perfect sex hair. The kind of hair that makes a woman want to run her fingers through it and hold on for dear life. “I’m not playing the big brother card, darlin’. Far from it, actually. And I know you were good. You were too fucking good, and that’s not happening again. Ever.”
Her jaw drops to staggering depths as she tries to understand what this ridiculous man is saying to her. “What?”
“You heard me.” His tone is a near growl, and it lights a fire deep inside her belly.
“I don’t understand,” she whispers. Her temper is no longer an issue due to her overwhelming confusion.
“You don’t need to understand. You just need to fucking listen to me.” His hands are on his hips, irritation still radiating from every pore.
“Fuck you, Penn,” she spits venomously. Her pretty face twists into a scowl. “I’m not some woman you can boss around. And seriously, I’m going back out there. I need the money. That was the whole point of getting this job.”
“If you step foot back on that stage, I will drag you off by your hair. Better yet, if you step back onto that floor tonight, consider yourself fired.”
“What!” Her temper wastes no time, coming back in full force. Her big brown eyes squint in fury, rage threatening to burst out of her like a firework.
“How about you keep your little hot temper up here and try to cool down? I’m sure I’ve got a mess to clean up downstairs.” He takes a cavernous breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “There are clothes in the bedroom you can borrow,” Penn adds before turning for the door. He can’t stay in the same room with this infuriating woman before he does something he regrets…like push her up against the wall and have his wicked way with her.
“You’re such an asshole!” she shouts and throws a stiletto in his direction. The heel clamors loudly against the door as Penn shuts it with a loud slam.
She is fuming, downright raging over this entire scenario.
What the fuck is his problem!?
She rips the silk scarves off her body and takes off the remaining stiletto. She paces the cool hardwood floor of the apartment. Her bare feet tap harshly against the surface. It takes her nearly ten minutes to wrap her brain around what just happened. Penn carried her off the stage and then threw her up in this apartment to cool down. She wouldn’t have any reason to cool down if he wouldn’t have taken it upon himself to throw her over his shoulder while she was in the middle of her number. And it had been going really well. Her mind had been off in fantasy land and she’d been feeling that music. Her body had been moving in perfect synchrony and she knew it. Years of dancing experience have taught her many things. And tonight, she was one hundred percent certain that she had been giving one hell of a show.
She runs her hand through her hair and a small glimmer from her arm catches her attention. She glances down and remembers all of the diamond jewels glued to every inch of her body. Daniella strides into the bathroom and decides that now is as good a time as ever to take a shower. That’ll be the easiest way to remove her newly acquired temporary body art.
Her naked form stands under the water, the warm spray dripping down her body. Hot steam fills the shower and she immediately relaxes into the delightful feeling. Her irritation starts to fade away as the water soothes her. Every muscle in her body begins to unwind. The tension that was tightening up her neck muscles is lifted, and Daniella decides to savor this peaceful moment.
Thirty minutes later, she’s wrapped in a towel, jewel-less, and sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed in the only bedroom of the studio apartment. This is actually the first time she’s ever been up here. Her eyes take in the room. It’s very bare and scarcely decorated.
How often does Penn sleep up here?
How many women have been up here with him?
She shakes her head and forces that last question right back to wherever it came from. She can’t think like that. She has no right to know about his past or current relationships. The entire idea of him with another woman compresses her gut and has bile rising up into her throat. It’s a painful idea. One she wishes she didn’t care about…but she does. She cares too much, actually.
Daniella throws on one of Penn’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxers before heading out into the kitchen. She rummages through the bare cabinets and a shiny bottle of bourbon catches her eye. She takes the bottle and makes herself comfortable on the leather couch centered in the tiny living room.
She rarely drinks alcohol, and hard liquor is an even rarer occurrence, but tonight, she welcomes the mind-numbing powers of the intoxicating liquid. The first sip goes down terribly. Her throat burns, her chest lurches with hoarse coughs. But she powers through. She continues drinking and coughing, each gulp getting easier. She feels the moment the bourbon takes over her bloodstream; her head turns light and her mind fuzzy. A lazy, self-deprecating smirk crosses her lips. The alcohol has anesthetized her.
She is no longer angry and cursing Penn Wilder’s name.
She is just there. Drunk and deliciously oblivious to the world around her.
Penn’s eyes go wide in uncertainty as he takes in the sight of Daniella slouched over his couch, dressed in his t-shirt and boxers. It’s well past three in the morning and most of the patrons of Wild Nights have long s
ince filed out. He managed to cool off from the screaming match that had occurred between him and Daniella earlier. She’s so fucking stubborn, always pigheaded and unyielding. Her tenacity might be the death of him someday soon. If he keels over from a heart attack, Daniella will most likely be to blame. He’s actually surprised she didn’t end up going against his demands and attempting to cocktail tonight.
Penn wishes she could understand his reasoning for not wanting her to strip. He cares about her more than she realizes. His feelings aren’t friendly, nor are they in a big brother kind of way. How could they be? How could he merely see her as a friend when three years ago she ruined him for all other women? Maybe he didn’t realize it in that moment, but he knows that now. No one has ever made him feel the way she did that night on the dock. She gave herself to him in the most intimate way and, consequently, seared him. She sliced his heart and left him raw, open, and bleeding for her.
He refuses to let Daniella reduce herself to stripping her clothes off in front of a crowd of men. She’s better than that. She’s beautiful and intelligent and perfect. It’s hard enough letting her walk around in the revealing cocktailer club attire. Indecently short booty shorts, fishnets, and a tank that puts the curve of her perfect breasts on display in the most infuriating way. He hates it, loathes it to his very core. And after tonight, there’s no way in hell he can allow her to walk out onto the club floor again.
“Darlin’, I think it’s time we get you to bed,” he whispers into her ear. Her body doesn’t budge an inch, her face plastered to the top of the arm of the couch.
Attractive? Not in the least.
But adorable? Yes. Always adorable. She could be wearing a paper bag and he’d still see her as nothing less than perfection.
“I was looking for you,” she mumbles
“On the couch?” he asks with hilarity in his eyes.
She nods sloppily, her hand brushing across her face carelessly. “Yep. You weren’t here.”
He chuckles lightly. “Come on, Daniella.” He takes her arm and wraps it around his shoulder, effortlessly lifting her off the couch and into his strong arms. Her tight body presses against his muscular chest.
Southern Seduction Page 12