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HER PRIVATE DANCER
by
ISABELLA JORDAN
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com
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Her Private Dancer
An Amber Quill Press Book
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.AmberQuill.com
http://www.AmberHeat.com
http://www.AmberAllure.com
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
Copyright © 2009 by Isabella Jordan
ISBN 978-1-60272-515-7
Cover Art © 2009 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting
Provided by: Elemental Alchemy
Published in the United States of America
Also by Isabella Jordan
Accidentally Yours
The Beckmeyer Wolves, Book I: Going With The Flow
Bewitching Breckin
Electrical Storm
Elegant
Every Breath You Take
Gypsies, Tramps, And Heat
The Legend Of Black Robert Flynne
Midnight, Madness, And Naughty Things
Naughty Journeys And Sexual Conquests
Runaway Train
Sache's Consort
Scar's Conquest
Sister Moon
Stay
Stiff Competition
Viola's Inheritance
Waiting For You
Woman In Chains
Chapter 1
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The sexy Latino stripper stopped right before her chair. Harriet Wallace's heart pounded as loudly as the techno-dance music that filled the club. The yells and whistles of her coworkers rang in her ears and her fingers tightened around the crisp twenty-dollar bill in her hand. All she could see was the hard muscled wall of his chest, washboard abs, and one holy hallelujah of a bulge filling out the red thong he wore.
Okay, this was the part where she was supposed to stuff the twenty...somewhere. He had everything from singles to hundred dollar bills sticking out of the red silk all around the impressive erection that strained toward her.
How could she focus on anything when he was dangling that thing in front of her face? His hips were undulating in a way that made her want to do more than shove more money in that package. Her palm itched to touch him. Her pussy walls clenched hard at the thought.
Get a grip. Just because she hadn't been on a date, much less been laid, since her divorce two years ago, didn't mean she should lose her head and act stupid now.
It didn't help that this particular dancing devil had been watching her since the moment his act began. He had eyes black as sin, a smile that made her feel dirty, and dance moves that made her panties a wet, sticky mess between her thighs. His long, black hair gleamed in the lights, tied at the back of his neck to reveal the clear-cut lines of his boldly handsome face.
Why did he keep looking at her? She was the older woman in her little group from the bank. She was thirty-six, full bodied, and wearing a business suit because her coworkers only thought to invite her at the last minute. They, on the other hand, were all dressed in slinky little things that were supposed to be dresses and were all in their twenties. Shouldn't he be trying to entice them?
"Go Harriet! Woooooooo!"
Oh, yeah. The stuffing.
Harriet knew the sooner she got this over with the sooner he'd be off shaking his goodies for someone else. You can do this. Her hand shook as it darted toward the top of his thong and she felt her face warm. Who was acting like a silly twenty-something? Do it already!
Quickly, she tucked the bill into the top of his thong, knowing from the merriment of her coworkers around her that they'd never let her live this down.
The dancer grabbed her hand just as she was about to pull it back, pressing her palm flat against the hard surface of his abdomen. Damn, she could bounce a quarter off him. His flesh was warm and firm, rippling slightly beneath her fingers as if her touch affected him. There was the finest sheen of moisture on his skin from his performance. Just the simple touch started a tingling in the pit of her stomach. She imagined him naked, sweaty from sex...
Still, she was the uncomfortable center of attention even though she really liked getting to touch him. She tried to pull her hand back but he held on to it firmly.
Harriet glanced up into those sexy dark eyes. She would have expected to find amusement there, all things considered. Instead he flashed her a devilish grin. Oh, he was good. He knew just how to make a woman feel so desirable and make her believe it, too.
Or maybe she was just that gullible and pathetic.
"Dance with me."
He sounded as sexy as he looked. Was the Spanish accent real?
"I'd...rather not." Harriet managed to throw him a small smile. "Thank you."
"Dance with me." This time it was a command, not a request.
Before she could protest further, he was pulling her out of her chair by the hand that he still held captive. She could have fought him but she had a feeling that it wouldn't do any good considering how easily he'd hauled her up.
He secured her against his body, nearly squeezing all the breath from her lungs. All of her softness pressed against his hardness and she came up only to the middle of his chest. Easily he held her in place with one arm wrapped around her like a band of steel. One of his thighs pushed its way between hers, forcing her to straddle him.
"Harriet! You go, girl!"
"Go, Harriet!"
Oh, this was bad. She shouldn't want to rub herself against the hard length of muscular thigh between her legs. But God, she did want to. She'd had a drink earlier, and watching the male strippers had already worked her up a bit. Now there was an incredible ache building in her pussy. He brought up his leg, grinding it into her wet heat, and her thighs clamped around it like a vice. It alleviated nothing, only made the craving in her body stronger. Her breath was coming fast, her heart thundering in her chest.
"Squeeze it, baby," he said just loud enough for her to hear over the noise all around them.
Her mind frantically tried to wrap around the entire scenario. Yet her body obeyed him and her thighs gripped him even tighter. She cared less by the second that his hand was sliding down over her ass in front of the entire crowd. Without warning, the gorgeous devil lifted her right leg over his hip and dipped her.
Completely out of her element, all she could do was look up into his gorgeous face. His strong features held a powerful sensuality and his grin could be described only as wicked as he held her in the passionate pose. From all around them, the other women in the room erupted into woohoos and applause.
The handsome dancer slowly brought her back up, but not before his fingers delved into the slit at the rear of her skirt and skimmed up to edge of her panties. She jerked in surprise when they darted into the heated juices that had seeped from her aching folds.
He released her and left her to stand on wobbly legs she couldn't trust. Harriet immediately sank onto her chair, startled when he gently took her hand and kissed the back of it before walking away.
"Oh, shit, Harriet! That was hot!" Kelly, a new loan officer in their bank, wrapped an arm about her shaking shoulders. "He's hot!"
The mu
sic changed now and another dancer, dressed as a police officer, strutted out on the stage while her man, who'd started his dance dressed as a matador, made his way toward the exit.
"Yes," Harriet managed, still struggling to breathe from the closest thing she'd had to sex in a long time. "Yes, he is."
Harriet tried not to watch him leave but she just couldn't stop herself. And he seemed to know that she would be. He made a point of turning around in the doorway and meeting her gaze, his eyes smoldering with fire.
He brought the fingers he'd dipped into her juices to his lips and made a great show of sucking them into his mouth. Harriet shuddered, her body convulsing with desperation.
Then he backed out of the doorway and out of her sight, leaving her a trembling mess in the chair.
"You looked great up there," Rachel chimed in on the other side of her. "You should have grabbed his ass or something."
Harriet grinned at the younger woman. Hot and ready as she was at the moment, she'd wanted to grab something all right.
The moment was lost about ten seconds later to the sexy police officer who began to enticingly peel off his uniform and snatched away the attention of her cohorts. The new dancer was a nice looking man but he didn't do a thing for her. Not the way her sexy matador had.
Besides, her fifteen minutes of fame, more like fifteen seconds, were over and done. Her coworkers didn't even notice when she left her chair and headed for the restroom. Another drink would have been great but she had to drive herself home. Her body was on fire with need but she'd just have to live with it and try to get some rest.
Rest for what? Tomorrow would be back to her regularly scheduled programming. Her coffee, her cat, and her books. And loneliness, her only other constant companion.
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Alejandro waited in the shadows of the parking lot until he saw her come out of the club with the group of women she'd been sitting with. They gathered in a little circle to make their goodbyes. There was a skinny blonde wobbling on her stilettos and another woman with short dark hair whose loud voice and laughter led him to believe she was a little drunk, too. There were a couple of others with them, young and perky and apparently into the clubbing scene. He'd seen them before, and that said a lot considering he was only a fill-in dancer these last two years.
Not her. Alejandro had never seen her before. He would have remembered.
He could tell by the way she lingered on the edge of the gathering that she wasn't exactly part of the girl posse. She wasn't a girl. She was a woman with real curves and sexy eyes.
He'd spotted her almost instantly when he took the stage. A lot of nice looking women came to the club and she was no exception. She was striking, though not a classic beauty. She had a unique look.
She wasn't dressed like her companions either. Her suit was black and all business, fitting over her body in a way that made him itch to get his hands on her. And she had the curves to fill a man's hands. She reminded him of the glamorous women in the movies his mother used to watch when he was a child living in Brazil. Hers was the body of a Marilyn Monroe or a Jayne Mansfield. The woman wasn't skinny and waifish but lush with full breasts, a trim waistline, and great ass. The lady had all the things he liked in a woman physically.
Her hair was nearly as black as her suit and swept up in an elegant style that made her look like she should be back in some high rise office somewhere. Was his lady a CEO? A woman of power?
The way she'd watched him dance had really grabbed his attention. She didn't send the same vibes he normally got from women when he performed. Her eyes didn't move over him like he was just another piece of meat. Those pale blue eyes had studied him, savored him as if he were a work of art. Something she truly admired.
He'd always enjoyed working the crowd a little and it gave him a good excuse to get close to her. Maybe a little too close. Most women didn't mind when he grabbed them out of their chairs, rubbed against them a little.
He'd taken a serious risk when he'd ventured into her panties. When he'd found her little pussy hot and wet, it had pushed his own excitement to an excruciating level. He knew that evidence of her excitement wasn't necessarily just for him, but that hadn't stopped him from wanting a taste, so he took it. Then he'd waited to see if she'd watch him leave and she had. He wanted her to see him sampling her intimate taste and to see how she reacted.
The pure heat he'd read in her eyes from across the room of rowdy women had let him know the feeling was mutual. His cock still throbbed while he replayed it all in his mind.
Alejandro knew he should leave. He should just head back to his apartment, whack off, and get in some work on his thesis. Yet he didn't want to just satisfy himself. He'd tasted her now. He wanted more. A lot more...
Finally the little group broke up. Alone, she made her way toward a sleek, sporty car parked in the far corner of the lot. No one was leaving with her. Perfect.
Dashing over to Jose's car, he found the driver side door unlocked and his friend had left the keys in the ignition, too. Reaching inside, he popped the hood and flipped on the headlights. He couldn't have asked for a better scenario because his friend's car was almost directly across from hers. She'd have to see him as she backed out of the parking space.
Alejandro waited while she started her car, just sitting there with the park lights on.
Okay, act frustrated. Act like this is your car and it won't start. Alejandro knew a little about cars, acted like he was checking the battery, the oil. Still her car didn't move and he hoped it was because she was watching him. Perhaps she was even wondering what to do, wondering if she'd be safe in offering to help.
Oh, she'd be safe with him. He'd keep her safe and happy while he buried his cock in her. He wanted to be so deep within her that she'd wonder if she'd ever be free of him.
Finally the brake lights of her car came on and she slowly started backing out. Alejandro's heart pounded heavily in his chest. Would she stop?
He didn't get a chance to ponder that further. Her car stopped only a few feet away from him. Slowly the passenger side window slid down and she ducked her head to peer at him from the shadowy interior of her car.
"Do you need help?"
Alejandro smiled, his cock jerking in the jeans he wore. She had the cutest little voice.
"Hi there." Leisurely he headed for her car, leaning down to get a better look at her from the open window. "Ah, my car won't start. I think the battery is dead."
She nodded, her eyes glittering at him in the darkness.
"It's almost one o'clock. You'd probably have a hard time getting someone out here at this time of night."
If his car were really here and really dead, she'd be right.
"I would."
"Is there anyone I can call for you?"
There was more to that question than her just offering to help him. He could read it in her eyes. Was she was feeling him out to see if there were someone else in his life?
Easy answer.
"No."
Alejandro could read the conflict in her expression even in the dark. He just hoped she was concerned with what might happen between them instead of her safety. He didn't want her to think he was some kind of psycho.
"Do you live close by?"
Well, that question hadn't taken her long at all.
"Actually I do. My apartment's on Tenth Avenue."
They were on Second Avenue already, so he didn't have much time to move things along. He couldn't help but believe she wanted him, considering the way her eyes had smoldered at him back in the club. He sure as hell wanted her. His body had been burning for her from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.
There was still a hint of doubt in her express. If she didn't feel comfortable with anything, he wouldn't press. Still, he could hope...
"Okay. I'll give you a ride."
"Thank you." Alejandro smiled. It wasn't the ride he had in mind but it was a promising start. Running back to Jose's car, he pulled the hood back down and shut
off the headlights.
When he returned to her car, she flipped the door lock and he opened the passenger door to get in. Nice car. It still had a touch of new car smell. She couldn't have had it long.
He'd just become accustomed to that smell, when he noticed another enticing scent. The subtle, intoxicating fragrance of her arousal, already familiar to him, drifted to him like the sweetest perfume. The scent had his balls knotting hard, making him more desperate to have her.
"So how long have you been a dancer?" she asked.
No. It wasn't the time for small talk. The mood was right, the window of opportunity limited.
"Did you really offer me a ride to ask how long I've been a dancer?"
"I beg your pardon?" There was a tremor in her voice.
It was an unconvincing attempt at indignation. Well, if it made her feel better...
"I thought I was offering you a ride because you needed help." Keeping her eyes glued to the road ahead, she put the car in drive and made her way out of the parking lot. "Are you trying to pull something?"
The question didn't surprise him. He didn't take her for a fool.
"I just wanted to see if you were for real," he admitted. "Considering what we've shared so far, I thought you might want to see where it could lead. Like I do."
Her sharp intake of breath was a quiet whisper of a sound that had his libido growing fangs.
"So your car..."
When she dared a quick glance at him, he shook his head. Truth was best.
"You just wanted to..."
Hook up?
"Yes."
"I shouldn't be doing this." She gripped the steering wheel hard as she drove, her thighs shifting against each other. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"Why not?"
"Do you do this often?" Her voice still shook slightly. "Oh, God. You're not a male escort or something, are you?"
Her Private Dancer Page 1