by Burton, Jaci
She stood, let the pants fall to her ankles, and kicked them off, then turned around, pointing a hip in his direction.
Spencer’s gaze was hot, and when he licked his lips, she knew she had him. She took a step forward, spread her legs wide enough for him to zero in on the goods, and straddled his lap.
His brows went up. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Never.” She was operating purely on instinct and what she wanted. And right now she wanted to touch him, to feel his body under hers. She grabbed his shoulders and rocked against him, tilting her head back and arcing forward, letting him look. His deep breathing told her all she needed to know. And dear God it was exhilarating.
Truthfully, she’d never been bold like this before, especially with a man. Even her sexual experiences in the past had been in the dark and under the covers. She had no idea where this wild sexual side of herself had come from. She could tell herself she was doing this because it was her job, but she sensed it was more than that. She felt more than that.
Her body was alive, surging with tingles and pulses and wetness and need, all directed at the man whose lap she sat on. And, oh my, he was rock-hard all over, from the bulging muscles of his shoulders that flexed under her hands, to the wall of rock under her thighs.
As she inched closer, ever closer, she felt another hardness, one that compelled her need to explore. His cock was outlined against his jeans, thick and inviting, and she wanted to unzip his pants and slide her hands inside to wrap her fingers around him. Would he be as hot and pulsing as she was?
She was wet. He was hard.
She wanted to fuck him, impale her pussy on his cock until she came in a blistering, satisfying orgasm. Her clit quivered at the visuals slamming at her nonstop. Her gaze shot to his, and the message was clear in the heat of his eyes.
She could barely breathe.
“Do it, Shadoe.”
This had suddenly become less about work and much more personal, because she wanted to. She really wanted to. Her nipples were hard and throbbing, and it wouldn’t take much pressure on her clit before she went off like a rocket into a shuddering climax. Her panties were already soaked—probably through to his jeans.
But this wasn’t part of the job description.
Shit.
Like a cold bucket of water had been tossed over her, training and protocol and everything she’d been taught about mixing business and pleasure—or rather not mixing them—slapped her back into reality. She shook her head and backed off Spence’s lap, mortification mixed with regret, because for a moment there, she wished she wasn’t on assignment. She grabbed her clothes and turned off the music, sucked in air, slowed down her breathing, and forced a calm she didn’t feel. By the time she climbed back into her sweatpants, she was relaxed and smiling. “I think we’ve done enough for the day.”
He stood, his erection still prominent, as was the frown on his face. “You haven’t finished.”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t stripped.”
No, she hadn’t. Not completely anyway. She still wanted to. What would happen if she stood naked before him? Would he touch her? Do more than that? The thought of it made her weak in the knees.
She couldn’t go there. She inhaled, then moved toward him, pulling her T-shirt over her head like armor. When she stopped in front of him, she felt more herself again. “I don’t need to.” She slid her gaze down to his cock, then back up again. “You’re hard; you wanted me. I think I did a pretty decent job for my first day. I’ll call that good enough.”
She strolled past him and out of the room, hoping her legs didn’t give out from under her.
By the time she got to her room and shut the door behind her, she was shaking, sweaty, and her heart was pounding.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She hadn’t had control of the situation, and control was everything in her line of work. She’d let it get personal. Had she learned nothing at the academy?
She’d really like to blame Spencer for that debacle, but it wasn’t his fault. She could have said no when he’d told her to strip, but honestly, she’d needed the practice. He was right. How could she hope to get naked in front of a roomful of hundreds of men if she couldn’t do it in front of one? And frankly, doing it for him had helped her self-confidence. Oh, man, had it ever helped. She had no idea how sexual an experience it could be.
But was that stripping itself, or the man she’d stripped for? There was no doubt about it: she might find Spence arrogant and irritating, but there was also chemistry between them. Serious, combustible chemistry. Even now she could recall the feel of his skin under her hands, the way his rigid thighs felt under hers. She’d never been with a more commanding, sexual man in her entire life.
She’d wanted him to touch her.
“Good God, Shadoe, what’s wrong with you?” She pushed off the door and flung herself on the twin bed, staring up at the lazily twirling blades of the ceiling fan. Which, by the way, was not cooling her body down at all. She lifted her hips and jerked the sweats off, then discarded her T-shirt, too.
Even clad in just her bra and panties, she was still hot. And she knew why.
That was Spence’s fault, indirectly at least. He’d gotten her turned on, and she needed an orgasm. She could have rocked against his leg and gotten off if she’d lingered there long enough. That visual only made her body steamier. She laid her hand against her belly, feeling the heat of her skin there, then let her fingers slide lower, under the lace, to palm her sex. It was damp, still clinging with the heat and moisture churned up by her sexy encounter with Spence.
Oh, yes. Using her other hand, she undid the front clasp of her bra and pulled the cups apart, letting her breasts spill free. The cool air of the fan blew over them, her nipples spiking into tight, hard points.
Right now she’d love to have Spencer loom over her and fit his lips over her nipples—suck and lick them, tease them with his teeth.
“Mercy,” she whispered, lifting her hips against her palm and wriggling her fingers. She plucked her nipple while her other hand cascaded lower, sliding down over her clit. She gasped at the sensation, the tight bundle of nerves swollen and wet with her pussy juices.
“I need to come,” she said to no one in particular, but one man’s face crept before her. She tried to block it from her mind, but he kept coming into focus again. Him, and only him. Finally, she relented and let him in.
“I need to come, Spence.” She let the fantasy take over, and her fingers became his—his would be much larger, rougher, and would feel so good. She imagined the feel of them as she caressed her sex, then dipped lower to plunge two fingers inside her moist cavern.
“Oh, God, yes!” she said, then bit her lip as she realized she was too loud and had no idea who might be in the room next to hers. She lifted off the bed again, eager for release but still wanting to hold back.
She pinched her nipple between her fingers, needed that extra painful pleasure while she fucked her fingers in and out of her pussy. She was so wet, her juices ran down her ass. She loved it, reveled in every exquisite sensation.
The buildup increased and she had to fight back loud moans. She may not have a ton of sexual experience, but she knew how to pleasure herself. She did it often and she was a damn expert at it, bringing herself to the height of explosive orgasm within minutes.
She was there, at the precipice, ready to fall. The walls of her pussy gripped her fingers and she felt the contractions as her climax hovered. But still, she lifted the heel of her hand off her clit and hesitated, teasing herself just as she’d want Spence to tease her. She could see his tight, smiling face above her.
“Ask me for it,” he’d say.
She shook her head and pinched her nipple harder.
“Beg me.”
Finally, she couldn’t wait. “Damn you. Please make me come.”
She ground the heel of her hand against her clit, buried her fingers inside, and splinter
ed, letting out that moan she’d tried so hard to hold in. Oh, it was so good, a rush of heat and wetness and such wild pleasure she bucked her ass off the bed, seeking more of the devilish bliss that soared through her body.
Aftershocks made her tremble as she slowly floated back to the mattress. Once she caught her breath, she stood on shaky legs and headed into her bathroom to turn on the shower, pausing to stare at herself in the mirror.
“You’re a mass of contradictions, Shadoe Grayson,” she said to herself. “Hot and cold, stiff and melty. But damn anyone who thinks you aren’t sexual enough to do this job.”
Because she could. And she was going to be very, very good at it.
SPENCE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL OF HIS ROOM, LISTENING TO the shower running in Shadoe’s bathroom. Now it was his turn to let out a loud groan. He jammed his fingers through his hair and cursed.
What the hell possessed Grange to put her in the room next to his? The walls were thin and Spence had good hearing. He’d heard every one of Shadoe’s moans, heard her talking to herself, and knew damn well what she’d been doing after her semi-strip show in the gym.
She’d been getting herself off. And all he could do was listen against the wall like some horny twelve-year-old voyeur and visualize what she was doing, how she looked as she came, and wish he was in there doing it to her.
Okay, so he might have been wrong about her. He’d thought she was a buttoned-up tightass. Turned out she had a tight ass all right, but not in the way he’d originally thought. He’d seen that sweet, perfectly formed rear end of hers in the gym. Who knew underneath those regulation clothes lurked a Victoria’s Secret model?
He palmed his cock. Christ. He was still hard. And more than irritated that she’d managed to tie his balls up in knots. She might have given him a raging hard-on, but he’d be damned if he was going to take his dick in hand and jack off like a teenager. There were plenty of women in town more than eager to help him get his rocks off.
The problem was, his mind was occupied with a certain brunette with chocolate brown eyes and perfectly shaped long legs. She’d gotten him hard. Now he wanted her to get him off.
The way she’d eagerly slid onto his lap in the gym, the way her eyes had gone all soft and melted with desire and need? Oh, yeah. She wanted. Especially after listening to her masturbate in her room.
The woman was A-number-one sexual. There was nothing prim and proper about Agent Shadoe Grayson. The problem was, Spence knew better than to mix pleasure with business. And Shadoe was business. Concentrating on his dick meant he wasn’t concentrating on the job, and that wasn’t good for the Wild Riders.
Shit. Maybe he would have to head to town for some relief. Because working around the innocent seductress was going to be a painful experience. And Spence didn’t do pain.
He also didn’t do denial. Which meant he hoped Shadoe had more self-control than he did, because if she said yes, there was no way he was going to say no.
This was going to be one hell of an assignment.
THREE
MARIA, THE STRIPPER SHADOE MET WITH THE NEXT DAY, WAS A tall, statuesque, raven-haired beauty with long, long legs and huge breasts. Shadoe felt like a short, mousy midget standing next to her. But Maria was also very nice, so Shadoe had a hard time hating her, even though she really wanted to.
They met at a dance studio in a very ritzy section of Dallas, one that Maria said she used frequently when working out new routines.
Maria apparently knew Grange well, and was discreet, according to Grange. Shadoe had no idea how much of Grange’s or the Wild Riders’ business Maria understood, and they didn’t discuss it. Grange just told her that Maria would be happy to show her some moves, and wouldn’t ask questions.
Good enough for her.
Shadoe hadn’t seen Spence all morning. Not that she’d gone looking for him. He wasn’t needed for this part of the assignment anyway. Grange had sent her to meet with Maria alone, which was fine with her.
Maybe Spence was avoiding her. Maybe he’d had enough yesterday after her impromptu private striptease. Shadoe released a triumphant smile at that thought, though she was pretty sure he just didn’t care to watch again today.
Introductions out of the way, Shadoe and Maria set to work. Or rather, Maria took charge and Shadoe followed along.
Maria had dressed in a short turquoise miniskirt and a body-hugging midriff top, covered by a sheer blouse. She wore heels that Shadoe had no hope in hell of ever being able to walk in, though Maria assured her she’d get used to them over time since high heels were a required part of any stripper’s uniform.
Shadoe didn’t think there was enough time in the world to get used to six-inch heels. When Maria discussed a stripper’s wardrobe, Shadoe realized she was going to have to go shopping. Maria gave her the name of her favorite trendy off-the-wall store where she could get some sexy stage clothes and shoes, then offered to go with her. Shadoe was grateful for any help she could get. Gun shopping she could do. Stripper clothes? Totally out of her league.
She thought they’d start dancing right away, but Maria was all business, discussing the philosophy and psychology of stripping. Maria took her job seriously, from what customers looked for all the way to how to please herself, to make sure she looked and felt her best, because if she didn’t look and feel good, her customers would know it.
The woman was thorough. Then again, so was Shadoe. She took her job just as seriously, so she admired Maria’s dedication to her craft. No wonder she was a headliner. This wasn’t just a get-in-and-make-a-quick-buck-until-the-real-thing-came-along type of job for Maria. This was her career. Her eyes simply glowed when she talked about stripping. Shadoe could tell that Maria loved what she did, that she enjoyed being the center of attention, loved dancing and playing to a packed house.
And when Maria finally turned the music on, pointed to a chair, and had Shadoe sit while Maria went through one of her routines, Shadoe was mesmerized.
Not only was Maria beautiful, she was captivating. There was nothing crass about the woman. Sensuality oozed from Maria’s body as she went through her moves, subtly removing each item of clothing—not too fast, not so slow as to make the audience lose interest—and the way she caught the eyes of her audience, let them know she loved what she was doing, like she was really there, as opposed to just counting down the minutes until her show was over and she could be somewhere else. It was magic and Shadoe felt utterly seduced.
And stripped down to just her thong, Maria was unashamed of her body, using every curve to her advantage as she gyrated around the room, completely in tune with the music.
When she finished, her body glistening with sweat, she grinned and Shadoe jumped from the chair and applauded.
“That was incredible,” Shadoe said, moving toward Maria as Maria turned off the music.
Maria grinned. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it. You can do the same thing.”
Shadoe laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. You obviously had quite a bit of training.”
Maria grabbed a towel and wiped the back of her neck, then unscrewed the top off a bottle of water. “Mainly it comes from on-the-job training. You learn a lot of tricks up there on the stage, and from watching the other dancers. You’ll pick it up in no time at all.”
Dancers. Maria constantly referred to herself and the other girls she worked with as dancers, not strippers. She’d have to remember that.
“I’ll do my best, but I have to tell you I’ve never done this before.”
Maria shrugged and pulled up a chair, seemingly not bothered at all by her near nudity. “Some girls step onto that stage and go at it like they’ve been doing it their whole lives. Others can dance for years and years and still look like amateurs. You’ll either have it, or you won’t, and no amount of training will help you with that.”
“Have what?”
“It, honey. The magic. You either have a calling for entertaining, or you don’t. Some are born to perform, to seduce men with th
eir bodies and their eyes. Others just climb on the stage to make a quick buck, but they’re never really into it. And it shows.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Maria grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “There are various levels of strippers, Shadoe. You have your seedy joints, with part-time strippers who are also hookers, or the drug-addicted ones out to make fast money for their next fix. Really low-class stuff. They look worn down, or bored, and you can tell right away that their hearts are not in it. Then there are the ritzier clubs, where you’ll be. Those are the places where the headliners perform, where the owners are choosy about which girls get the privilege of dancing there. They hire only the high-class dancers. Believe me, there’s a huge difference, and you can tell right away between the two.”
Shadoe nodded. She had a lot to learn. “You’re obviously high-class.”
“Well, thanks for that. I like to think so. I’ve worked hard for the past ten years to get where I am today.”
Shadoe leaned back and studied the beautiful woman. “How does someone get into a field like this? I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s not like stripping is something every little girl dreams of doing someday.”
Maria laughed. “It’s okay. I get asked that question a lot. I majored in theater in college, but I got bored and antsy easily, and though I loved performing, I found I lacked the patience for all the classroom work. I loved doing the shows, enjoyed the performance aspect, but didn’t like taking the time to study the craft. Bad me. So I took some sideline jobs as a singing waitress and dancing at a few clubs—not stripping just yet—and then I got a great offer to strip at a high-class club because of my dance skills, so I decided to give it a try.”
“Kind of scary for someone brand-new to that kind of lifestyle, I imagine.”
Maria laughed. “You have no idea. The first night my knees knocked together so hard I was afraid I’d fall right off my shoes. But the customers were all encouraging and I fell madly in love with the spotlight. I never left after that. School just wasn’t for me. I had found my calling and stayed there. It’s a kick and a half and I love my life.”