by Alexis Angel
Getting my fingers good and wet, I run them along my slit and settle them on my clit, rubbing slow, light circles around the swollen bud. Bright light flashes behind my eyes as a shock of pleasure jolts my body.
“More … yes … Derek,” I cry, letting myself believe it’s him working his magic on my body.
A fire lights up inside me, my nerves sparking like an electric current.
Yes. It feels so, so good.
I’m so fucking wet. Drenched from the thought of him and what he did to me last night combining with the sensations rocketing through my body by my own touch. Juices flow freely, coating my hands, soaking the sheets beneath me, and I keep going, keep flicking my clit as I rise higher and higher, on the brink of pure bliss.
But I need more. My pussy clenches and convulses around emptiness, begging to be filled.
I slide two fingers deep inside my cunt, stroking my walls that are quaking and throbbing, squeezing and gripping my fingers.
Desperate moans fall from my lips, incoherent words as my head thrashes back and forth on the bed, my hips bucking as I finger-fuck myself.
Faster and harder, I push my fingers deeper and deeper into my pussy, adding a third when my body begs for more. Begs for Derek and his perfect cock.
I use my free hand to push a tit back up to my mouth, clamping my teeth around my nipple while my thumb furiously flicks my clit, my fingers still driving deep inside me.
I picture Derek, imagine him over me, commanding my body, claiming it as his own.
Out of my mind, I remember how it felt when his cock swelled up inside me, shooting hot jets of cum in a way that I will never ever fucking forget. And I lose control. I scream. I thrash. I buck. I cum and I cum and I cum, crying out his name over and over as pure euphoria overtakes me.
So fucking good. I relax into my bed, my body limp and sated.
Fuck, I’ve never made myself cum like that. It’s still nothing compared to how Derek made me feel last night, but just imaging him is apparently all it takes to drive me wild.
I sigh, settling deeper into the bed as I pull my fingers from my pussy, smiling again as I remember him talking about how good I smelled.
I don’t know how, but there’s no doubt in my head now. My mind and body both demand it; I’m going to find a way to see him again.
13
Derek
My smile gets wider and wider as my limo approaches the strip club. It’s early still, even though Ryder and I had a late lunch. I don’t know what time Sapphire starts work, but she has to get there before they open, right?
I bounce my leg, full of nervous energy, ready to just be there already. As soon as my driver pulls up in front of the club, I jump from the limo and rush to the front doors. They pull open easily, so I figure they must be open.
Wrong.
About twenty pairs of eyes all turn toward me where I’m standing on the landing just inside the doors. All women. Correction. Not just women, all strippers.
Strippers who all have a greedy look in their eyes.
I know that look and I don’t fucking have time for it. I’m here for one woman, and one woman only.
They all seem to close in on me at once, looking terrifyingly like vultures in the black lace covering their bodies. Well, sort of covering. There’s a whole lot of bare skin in this place.
“Hello, gorgeous,” a busty blonde says, sidling up to me, closely followed by three more girls.
She fingers my collar. “We aren’t open yet, but I think I could make an exception for you.” She winks and gives me salacious grin.
Sapphire has truly gotten to me—she must be the one because I’m totally unaffected. Not just unaffected, but fucking annoyed.
Up until last night, this would be a fantasy come true. An entire club of strippers sitting around in their underwear, and I’m the only guy to be found? The old Derek would already have both his hands full of tits, mouth eating out one pussy, and dick buried balls deep in another.
I can totally take care of four women at once. Don’t ask how I know this. But it’s true.
I hold up my hands warily. “I’m good. Thanks anyway.”
Trying to move around her, I scan the women scattered around the lush room, but I don’t see her anywhere. Maybe she’s in the back.
I start to head that way when two hands appear from nowhere and fist in my shirt.
“Where are you headed so fast, sexy?” A redhead this time.
I grind my teeth, frustration building. “Looking for someone. Excuse me.”
Prying her hands from my shirt, I cast her aside, only to be stopped two steps later by a brunette. This girl has the same hair as Sapphire, but her eyes are brown, and her face isn’t nearly as breathtaking.
An exasperated sigh rushes from my lips. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Aw, sugar,” she says, her voice so whiny it makes me flinch, “surely you can find time to let me make you feel good. And I promise, I can make you feel really good.”
I look around, suddenly feeling like a raw steak tossed into the middle of a pack of wolves. Fuck. They’re all looking at me like I’m the sexiest man alive.
To be fair, it’s probably true. I mean, I have the body of a God and a giant cock to match. But right now, all I care about is Sapphire.
“Look,” I say, glancing around at the strippers, trying to put on an easy grin that should have them willing to do whatever I ask. I figure I’m going to have to play their game to get what I want. “I’m looking for somebody.”
The brunette gives me a sultry smile. “Take your pick.”
I shake my head. “Not like that. There’s this girl.”
I glance around the room again to make sure I didn’t miss her. Not like I fucking could. If she were in here, I’d know.
Raking a hand through my hair, I turn back to the brunette. “Just tell me, where is the girl with the brown hair and big tits?”
She gives me a look like I’ve lost my mind, then steps back and runs a hand up and down her body, her giant tits nearly busting out of her costume. “Sounds like I’m exactly what you’re looking for.”
“No,” I grind out, “the other girl with brown hair and big tits.”
She lifts her eyebrows and looks around the room, pointing. I follow her finger as she indicates, like, twelve chicks that fit that description.
Okay, so maybe I’m not thinking straight. I mean, I’m in a fucking strip club. Big tits are part of the territory.
“Sapphire,” I say in frustration, finally finding some bit of sense in the chaos that is my mind. “Where is Sapphire?”
No one says anything for a minute, then a short girl—another brunette with big tits, naturally-approaches me, her eyes a little wide. A little star struck. Like she knows exactly who I am.
Well, that’s fine. As long as she can tell me where Sapphire is.
She stops in front of me, biting her lip nervously. “Derek?”
I nod impatiently. “Yes. Do you know where Sapphire is? Is she working tonight? Is she in the back?”
“I’m Misti.”
Great. Sorry, Misti, but I don’t give a flying fuck what your name is. I barely keep the words from spewing out.
Almost regretfully, she says, “Sapphire got fired last night.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I’m staggered. I literally feel like I’ve been knocked back by a blast. Fired? I know immediately it’s because of me. Somehow, they found out I had sex with Sapphire and they punished her for it.
Guilt swamps me. She said she loved her job. And now she’s lost it because of me. I can’t regret what we did, but I feel like shit that I caused this. My chest tightens with an unfamiliar feeling, like a heavy weight has settled on me.
I grip Misti’s arm, taking her by surprise. “I need to find her. Where did she go? Did she get a new job somewhere?”
Misti shakes her head. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess that’s what she’ll do. Most likely. But she didn’
t say where.”
I exhale sharply through my teeth. “What about her phone? I can’t get in touch with her. I’ve tried and tried to call her, but it’s saying her phone was disconnected.”
She nods. “Those phones were part of working here. When she got fired, they disconnected it.”
I rake my fingers through my hair again, making it stand on end, mumbling to myself about how I'm supposed to take her back to St. Albans with me when I can’t even find her.
“Thanks,” I mutter to Misti, turning to leave, my very soul feeling crushed.
Sapphire is the one woman I’ve ever truly wanted, and now she’s slipped right through my fingers.
14
Ella
The next Monday, I sit on a barstool at my favorite bar drinking mimosas with my friends. A couple of them are from my old club, and a couple from some other strip clubs around town.
They’re all laughing and having a good time, but I just can’t get into it. I’ve been depressed for the last two days, not sure if I’ll ever see Derek again.
At first, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to let myself get so caught up in something with someone who I don’t even really know. That maybe I should just take this as a lesson and learn from it—no sex with clients.
But my heart just can’t get behind that. I know we have a connection that went deeper than sex. That night with him was intense. Crazy. Profound. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life. And I want that. I really do.
I can’t give up the hope that I’ll see him again.
I sigh again, sipping my mimosa.
“You okay, Ella?” Misti leans and gives me a squeeze on the knee. “You look like you just lost your best friend, then got fired, right after somebody kicked your dog.”
I stare at her over my champagne flute.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, her face turning red. “You did just get fired.”
I did. But that’s not why I’m feeling like this. “Yeah, but I can deal with that. I can get another job. What I can’t do is—”
“You’re looking for a job?” my friend Stacie pipes up, leaning forward to rest her arms on the bar and look around Misti.
I shrug. I guess I am, though I can’t really put my heart into it. Not when all my thoughts are consumed with figuring out how I’m supposed to find Derek.
Stacie’s eyes light up. “We need a new stripper at my club. You would totally have the job in the bag with your experience.”
Misti snorts. “Even if her resume now includes fucking the clients?”
I give her some side-eye. The little bitch—and I say that with all the affection in the world—has no filter. Like, zero. And she’s a bit of a ditz, to be honest. Hence the dumbass comments she keeps making.
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“Oh, I have to hear this one,” Stacie says, rubbing her hands together like she can’t wait to get the latest dirt.
Misti glances at me as if she wants permission to tell the story. So now she decides to think before she speaks. I shrug again. It’s not like hearing it again is going to make it hurt any worse.
“So, Ella here nabbed the hottest client on Friday night,” Misti begins. “And when I say hot, I mean make-you-cum-with-one-look hot. He had his choice of any of us, and he chose her. Then get this, he tells her he wants the most obscenely expensive private dance in, like, the history of private dances.”
I hold my empty glass up to the bartender, pleading with him with my eyes for a speedy refill as Misti continues entertaining everyone with the night that changed my life forever. Stacie is hanging on her every word, just like the rest of my friends.
“Oh, wait. It gets better. Turns out this guy—this fuck-me-sideways piece of sex on legs—who insists he have Ella is none other than Derek, Crown Prince of St. Albans.”
Gasps all around. Seriously? Am I the only person who didn’t know who he was?
“Holy shit, Ella. You fucked the Prince of St. Albans?” Stacie’s eyes are so wide I think they might pop out if she’s not careful.
I nod reluctantly, not wanting to label it as just a fuck. Because it felt like so much more than that. Earth-shatteringly, life-changing more.
“That is so crazy,” she gushes. “But I can’t say I blame you. If I had the chance, I’d totally do him, too. You are so lucky.” She makes a face. “Well, except for the getting fired part. But I can totally hook you up with a new job at my club.”
“You haven’t heard the best part,” Misti cries, clapping her hands.
I frown. What else is there to say? That was the gist of it.
“He came bursting in the club two days ago looking like he was about to go crazy. Like, really. His hair was all sticking up everywhere and his eyes were kind of wild.”
My mouth drops open and I want to interrupt her, ask her what the hell she’s talking about, but she keeps right on talking, oblivious to the way I’m gaping at her.
“He says he has to find her. That he’s been calling and calling and that her number is saying it’s disconnected—obviously, because it was, but that he needs to see her again. Of course, I told him what happened.”
I’m almost speechless, trying to process everything she’s saying. Derek was looking for me? He was desperate to find me? At least, according to Misti.
I grip her arm. “Then what?” I want to shake her when she just looks at me blankly. “Misti, what happened next? Did you tell him how to find me?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know what to tell him. What if he was actually some psycho who had an obsession or something? I didn’t want him stalking you.”
“I get that, I guess, but you’re just now thinking to tell me?” Unbelievable.
“I guess it slipped my mind until just now.” She shrugs and gives me a little smile.
I want to scream. “You have to tell me what else happened. Did he leave a number? Say where I could find him?”
She purses her lips and squints her eyes like she’s thinking, then shakes her head slowly.
My shoulders sink with disappointment, but then perk up just as fast when she snaps her fingers like she just remembered something.
“He was mumbling something as he left.”
I look at her expectantly, and gesture get on with it with my hand.
“Something about going back to St. Albans or something like that. At least, I think that’s what he said.” Misti shrugs helplessly.
“Oh my God, Ella, you have to go there,” Stacie jumps in, her eyes full of excitement.
“I do?” My eyebrows crease as I try to process all of this. It’s all happening so fast I can barely keep up.
“Absolutely,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s clearly crazy about you, going out of his mind to find you.” She sighs. “God, it’s so romantic. You have to go to St. Albans and find him. He could be your soul mate!”
Normally I’d scoff at the idea, but when it comes to Derek, I’m not so sure. He’s affected me in a way no other man ever has. Am I willing to give up that chance?
I don’t think I am.
And I have plenty of money stashed away that I can do this. A grin starts to work its way across my face, and I feel lighter than I have in days.
I slam my glass down on the bar, the decision made. “Ladies, I’m going to do it. I’m going to St. Fucking Albans.”
15
Derek
I want to growl in frustration at the stripper who can’t seem to get the message that I don’t want her crawling all over me.
“Just tell me, have you seen a girl with brown hair and big tits?”
She pouts up at me like she’s totally offended I’m not into her blonde hair. Another girl with brown hair comes up and drapes herself around me.
I grit my teeth. This has to be the eighteenth or nineteenth strip club I’ve visited in Manhattan so far in my attempt to find Sapphire. Still no luck. But that chick Misti seemed to think she would find another club to wo
rk at, and I won’t give up until I’ve checked every last one.
“Just go back and ask everyone if they know someone named Derek.” I push the girl off me. “Please.”
I’m having a fucking hard time being polite right about now, but I figure being a complete ass won’t get me anywhere.
The blonde looks at me skeptically, but nods and struts off, disappearing through a door.
As if that’s an invitation, two more strippers sidle up to take her place. “What’s so special about this girl?” one of them asks, sticking out her lower lip in a ridiculous pout.
I sigh. She’s perfect. It’s that simple.
I want to take her home to St. Albans and make her mine, but I’m getting more and more worried that I might never find her. Shoving the thought away, I realize the new girls have worked the top three buttons of my shirt loose and are running their hands all over my chest.
I jump back and push them off, relieved when the blonde returns from wherever she went. I look at her anxiously. “Well?”
Shaking her head slowly, she says, “No. Sorry. No one here is looking for a Derek.”
I turn without another word and stride out of the club, yanking open the door to my limo and slamming it shut behind me when I slump into the seat.
“Any luck?” my driver asks. As if my face doesn’t tell it all.
“Next place,” I say glumly.
We take off down the street, and I try not to give in to the mounting frustration. But I can’t fucking help it. Let’s be real, I’m starting to consider the possibility I’m never going to find her, and it’s messing with my head.
I pull out the lacy thong that I haven’t been without since the night I met her and lift it to my face, drawing in a deep breath through my nose.
That scent. That fucking sexy scent. It drives me mad. Out of my mind. Both with lust and with desperation.
I have to find her.
We pull up at the next place, and I was right because the driver announces this is stop number twenty. Leaping from the limo, I bound across the sidewalk and through the front doors.