Hit the Spot

by J. Daniels

  “Jamie not here yet?” I asked.

  I was surprised he hadn’t greeted me out in the parking lot. Figured he’d be watching out.

  “Oh, he’s here.” Quinn laughed, drawing my head around. She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “I paid for him to get a private lap dance just before you walked in. He was killing the vibe.”

  “He was taking all the attention away from you, you mean?” Chante asked playfully, knocking her shoulder into Quinn’s.

  “Yeah. Like I said. Killing the vibe,” Quinn returned.

  The girls kept up the banter, Jen and Andrea joining in, as I looked behind me in the direction of the VIP area and the big scary man guarding it.

  A private lap dance, huh?

  I smiled. Perfect.

  Then I turned back to the girls and declared, “I’ll be back. I think the birthday girl needs some attention.”

  Quinn’s eyes started shining bright.

  “Oh, Lord,” Jen laughed.

  “Yes, she absolutely needs some attention,” Quinn said, wiggling in her seat. “All the attention!”

  “You already have it,” Andrea claimed. “What’s new?”

  I dug some cash out of my wallet and then sat my purse on the table, asking, “Watch this for me?”

  The girls nodded.

  Then I spun around and padded across the room, stepping up to the big scary VIP guard.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling. “My husband is back there and he’s got three kids at home and one baking in the oven. Do you mind if I go remind him of that?”

  The bouncer’s mouth slowly stretched into a grin, revealing a gold tooth among the rest.

  “You need help escortin’ him out, let me know,” he said before stepping aside.

  “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

  Lifting back the curtain, I moved into a separate hallway that had private rooms on either side. Each door had a small window on it to see in, a security feature, I was guessing, and I peered in those windows as I searched for Jamie.

  Men were sitting on long, black benches while topless women danced in their laps. I was willing to bet Jamie wasn’t far into his private show. If he got back here right before I arrived, his was probably just starting.

  I was at my fourth door when movement caught my eye and turned my head.

  A woman wearing a sequined bikini and spiked see-through heels was walking down the hallway in my direction. She stopped in front of a door, looked in the window, and reached to turn the knob.

  “Wait,” I whispered, waving my hands and grabbing her attention. I ran up to her and peeked in the window.

  Jamie was sitting on a bench seat with his arms over the back, stretched out and waiting.

  Yes!

  I turned to the woman. “Hi,” I said, keeping my voice down in case he could hear. “How much do you get paid for these private shows?”

  She popped her hot pink gum.

  “Three hundred.”

  “You already get paid?”

  “Honey, of course.” She laughed a little and waved her hand in the air. “I don’t trust some of these guys to buy the cow after getting the milk.”

  I tilted my head. Huh. Not sure that was how that expression was supposed to be used, but okay.

  “I’ll pay you five on top of the three you already got to let me go in there instead. How’s that sound?” I held out the bills I was offering.

  Her eyes jumped between my face and the money, then stayed on the money when she grabbed it.

  “Sounds like he’s all yours,” she said, balling the cash up in her hand.

  “Oh, and there is a table of girls out there, one of them has short, spiky pink hair.” I handed her another hundred. “Give her some love, will you? It’s her birthday.”

  The women flashed me a smile as she tucked the bills into her bra, saying, “You got it, honey.” Then she stepped away and headed back out into the main area, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor.

  I turned my head after she disappeared and looked at Jamie through the window again.

  His head was tipped back and his eyes were cast at the ceiling while his fingers tapped the back of the booth. He looked bored.

  I smiled. Relax, Loser. The show is just about to start.

  Chapter Eight

  JAMIE

  The door to the room I was in made a clicking noise, indicating it was opening.

  Finally. What the fuck?

  I tipped my head down to get a look at this chick I’d been waiting on for a fucking minute, eyes already set in a glare ’cause I was bored and wondering where Tori was, if she was here and if she was wondering the same about me, when the object of my attention stepped inside the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Pressure built in my chest. My back stiffened.

  We locked eyes.

  The fuck?

  “Hey,” Tori whispered, then gave a shaky laugh and looked down, drawing all of her hair over one shoulder. “Uh, right, so I hope you weren’t expecting some big-breasted bimbo wearing pasties and an edible thong. I always found those to be uncomfortable.”

  I cocked an eyebrow.

  She started moving closer, still in her uniform and still making that shit work for her like she always did.

  White shirt, tight across her tits. Shorts showing all that skin I wanted wrapped around me.

  “The fuck is this?” I asked, frowning, looking between Tori’s face and the door behind her. “Did Quinn do this?” I met her eyes. “Are you mine?”

  Tori froze a foot away, blinking at me. She didn’t speak. If she had a reason for coming in here, it looked like that reason just left her. She seemed lost.

  “Legs,” I probed, when she kept with the staring and not speaking routine.

  “Mm?”

  “What are you doin’ in here, babe?”

  I had no fucking idea what was going on, but unless Tori wanted to watch some chick grind all over me, she needed to get what she came for and step out.

  She wet her lips. I watched her neck work with a swallow.

  “You showed me your dick,” she stated.

  I felt my mouth twitch. Fuck yeah. Breathing a laugh, I relaxed back onto the bench, arms spread behind me and hands gripping the black leather cushion. I tipped my head to the side. “See that impression is stickin’,” I said. “What’s that got to do with this?”

  “You showed me your dick after I flashed you. That was your move.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. What the fuck was she getting at?

  Tori smiled. Her sin-colored lips stretching slow. “This is mine,” she said, lifting her shoulders as if this shit she was declaring wasn’t a big deal, which it sure as fuck was.

  This is hers…Oh, fuck me.

  Fuck. Me.

  Tori moved closer. Whatever smirk I was wearing pulled from my mouth. That pressure built again, in my chest and lower. I shifted on the bench.

  “Legs,” I warned, my voice vibrating in my throat as I watched her walk toward me. “What’d I say about takin’ this shit places you can handle? Did you think this through?”

  I was willing to bet she didn’t. If she had and knew how this could play out, with her bent over and me buried deep, she wouldn’t be back here.

  “Shh.” Tori stopped in front of my knees. “If we talk, I won’t go through with this,” she admitted, sounding anxious. “And I doubt you’d be chattin’ up the girl who was supposed to be in here, so quit it. Just sit there. Shut up. And keep your hands to yourself.”

  “You know what you’re doin’?” I asked, looking up at her. “’Cause in this room I’m allowed to touch, babe. Rules are out there.” I tipped my chin at the door, keeping her gaze. “Not in here. In here, I’m participatin’. You don’t like that deal, you better quit now and think of another move, ’cause the second you start takin’ shit off, Legs, I’m on you.”

  “Then I guess I don’t need to worry,” Tori shot back, speaking with confidence and smiling again.

>   The fuck did that mean? My brow tightened. “Say again?”

  “I don’t need to worry ’cause I’m not taking anything off, meaning you won’t be on me. I’m just dancing.”

  I stared at her for a beat. Then a laugh rumbled in my chest as I thought about how fucked she was.

  “What?” she asked, tilting her head all cute. “This is a really good move.”

  “I know it is. I ain’t laughing ’cause of that.”

  “Then why are you laughing?” She brought her hands to her hips and studied me, looking on the verge of an attitude. Her eyes narrowed. “If you think I need to take my clothes off to win this bet, then you are mistaken, Jamie McCade. I know how you feel about me in this uniform. This is gonna kill you.”

  “Legs, hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong, babe. You gotta worry.”

  “And why’s that?”

  I dropped my arms and sat forward, elbows resting on my thighs. “You start dancin’ on me and I’m touching you,” I promised, watching her blink. “You start dancin’ anywhere in this room and I’m touching you. You don’t gotta strip, babe. I just threw that out there ’cause that’s where I thought this was headed. Telling me you’re makin’ a move and you’re makin’ it in a strip club, I figured you’d be taking shit off, but honest to God, it don’t matter. Like I said before, rules are out there. Not in here. Only way I’m keeping my hands to myself is if I’m fuckin’ dead.”

  “These are my rules,” Tori countered, bending down to get closer. “And unless you want me to holler out for my new friend with the gold tooth who looks like he eats narcissistic assholes for breakfast, I suggest you follow them, Jamie.”

  I chuckled, knowing who she was talking about. Dude made sure I was clear on a few things before letting me back in here.

  Something I wasn’t sharing with Legs.

  “And what are these rules, babe?” I asked.

  She straightened and snapped, “I already told you. Sit there and shut up.” Tori put her hand on my shoulder and shoved, pushing me back until I was pressing against the bench again. Then keeping her grip there, she swung her knee up, braced it on the leather, and lowered herself onto my lap, lifting her other knee and boxing me in with it.

  I pulled in breath through my nose and curled my hands into fists on the cushion. “And the touching?” I asked, voice strained as I stared at the shape of her tits.

  They grew closer as she leaned forward, her hands shifting to hold on behind me, and my gaze snapped up to meet hers when her face got an inch away.

  “Beg for it,” she whispered.

  My eyes flickered wider. Hers brightened with impending victory.

  No shit.

  Tori was gonna let me touch, but I had to call it. I had to let her win.

  I had to fucking beg.

  Jesus.

  Why’d she have to be so good at this shit?

  I steadied my gaze, telling her as my head tilted back, “Think I’ll just enjoy the ride.”

  I wasn’t lying. I was going to enjoy this, every second of it, and I didn’t mind sharing that. But what I wasn’t sharing was how hard it was going to be swallowing down the words I was wanting to say.

  Tori laughed as if she wasn’t buying my assurance. Then she gave me a halfhearted “good luck” before she slid up against me, shoved her tits in my face, pressed her stomach and ribs flush against mine, and sank down.

  If we were naked, she would’ve slid right onto my dick. Right…the fuck…onto it.

  Bad move.

  Not for me. That shit was fucking awesome.

  It was bad for her and she found that out quick, gasping and going rigid the second she felt the tip of my cock between her legs.

  I was rock fucking hard on account of what she was doing, what she was wearing, her just being here and looking the way she did, and the fact that I hadn’t jerked off since we started this bet. Hadn’t fucked anyone either. Didn’t even want to. Not unless it was Tori.

  The second I locked her into this shit between us, that was it.

  And since we weren’t fucking yet and she wasn’t offering hand jobs, I was overdue. My balls basically hated me.

  Expecting her reaction, I gripped her hips and kept her from hopping off, figuring Legs wouldn’t be able to fight this shit between us anymore and end up begging me to fuck her, realize this, and then freak.

  And I would totally fuck her. Already had it planned out in my head.

  Bend her over first with her ass in the air so I could spank the shit out of her for fighting this for so long, then taking her with those legs thrown over my shoulders like I’d pictured a thousand fucking times.

  Fuck yeah. It would be good. And I’d drag that shit out for as long as possible.

  But Tori wasn’t reacting how I had anticipated her to react. She wasn’t freaking. She was feeling. Me.

  Yeah, she startled with a gasp and went rigid, but the second my hands found her hips, that sweet body of hers went soft and melted above me, sinking lower as her eyes rolled closed and her head fell back.

  She moaned, low in her throat, as she started rocking her hips. Gentle at first, then with urgency. Moving on my dick and getting off on it.

  “Fuck,” I groaned, watching her, feeling her.

  Thank Christ I was wearing shorts and not jeans.

  Tori froze after I spoke. Her head snapped down and our eyes met. That was when she tried hopping off. As predicted.

  And no fucking way was I allowing it now.

  I grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and kept my other fastened on her hip, gripping her tighter there so she couldn’t move and then pulling until her face was a breath away from mine.

  Her mouth was right there, so close I could lick her fat, cherry lip, but I didn’t.

  She was staring into my eyes, looking panicked and turned on, breathing heavy, possibly on the verge of hollering out.

  I was staring back, feeling all kinds of shit right along with her and she was reading that, loud and fucking clear.

  Tori blinked, looked at my mouth, and then looked back into my eyes. Her breaths started coming out faster. She wasn’t resisting.

  She was waiting. Waiting for me, and I was not about to make her wait for shit right now.

  Hell, I was done waiting.

  I’d waited too damn long for this already.

  I kept her close, my fingers staying wrapped around her neck and keeping pressure. And with my hand on her hip, I started shifting her, grinding her against my shit so hard I thought she might bruise.

  Tori made a noise and shuddered like she wanted that, like she wanted this to hurt, then she brought one hand to my neck and gripped me there so she could hold on and hurt me, too.

  Her lips parted. Her fingers curled around and cut into my skin.

  Fuck yeah.

  I groaned, grit my teeth, and started pumping my hips up, giving her more and urging her to move, to go faster, pressing her down so that there wasn’t a part of me she wasn’t getting.

  She met my desire. She matched it.

  It wasn’t me moving her after a while.

  Tori took over. She rolled her hips and jerked in my lap like we were fucking. Tits bouncing behind white stretched cotton. Ass slapping against my thighs. Limbs tensing. And she knew, fuck, she knew without me having to say when I needed faster and when I wanted her to slow down.

  Drag this out. Build this with me. Please, fuck.

  She knew what I wanted. I didn’t speak. Neither of us did.

  I could taste her breath as we got off like we were both thirteen. I stared at her mouth and the way she moaned through it. I wanted to kiss her.

  I wanted to fuck her.

  I wanted to tell her she was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen in my life, and the way she was getting off on me was topping actual sex I’d had with women who wore a helluva lot less.

  Crazy shit. Shit I shouldn’t want out in the open and known, but I didn’t care.

  This felt t
oo good. She felt too good, and I wasn’t even inside her.

  Then her breath hitched. Her limbs started trembling and her eyes rolled closed. And instead of telling her anything or confessing shit I maybe needed to keep locked in, I yanked her closer and took her mouth.

  My tongue assaulted her, pushing past her parted lips, and this time instead of being too startled or too scared or whatever the fuck it was that’s always got her running, she kissed me back.

  Fucking kissed…me…back.

  Lips and tongue and breath, Tori gave it all. And she gave it good. Really fucking good.

  Her body was still rigid with pleasure as I thrust my hips three more times, groaned into her mouth, and shot off my release.

  Right in my fucking shorts.

  Still…

  My thoughts on this experience hadn’t changed one damn bit. Hands down, this was in my top five. Top two maybe.

  Damn. What the fuck?

  I slumped back, keeping hold of Tori’s neck after we stopped kissing and pulling her with me. Her head hit my shoulder. She was panting. I was panting.

  Then my grip on her neck slid around to the front of her throat when she leaned away to look at me.

  “I didn’t beg,” she said quickly, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

  I looked at her messy hair and heavy eyes. I saw red smeared below her bottom lip.

  “Neither did I,” I told her, taking my thumb and wiping away the evidence of our kiss.

  Her body went rigid with a gasp. I showed her my thumb. Seeing it, she quickly rubbed below her mouth when my hand fell away, narrowed her eyes at me, then leaned in and with the tips of her fingers cleaned off my mouth, doing this while speaking fast, “This doesn’t count. It was a freebie. Just…pretend it didn’t happen.” She dropped her hand when she was finished.

  “Gonna have trouble pretendin’ the load I just blew in my shorts ain’t there,” I told her.

  Her eyes went round, fell between us, and then lifted again.

  “Right, um, let me just…” She pushed off from my lap and stood, raising a finger. “Hold on. I’ll get you something.” Then she spun around and hurried out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.