by Burton, Jaci
Ariele was there, along with two dozen other women of various shapes, sizes, and colors. They were packed into the dressing area like sardines, reminding her again of college. But there was laughter and yelling and squealing as everyone caught up on gossip and some argued, while others chatted one-on-one in whatever corner they could find. Some of the girls even had their boyfriends in there. No one bothered to care about that. Others were on the phone chatting up a storm.
Some were friendly, like Elan, a petite mocha-skinned beauty with a quiet elegance and an incredible French accent. She had mesmerizing doe eyes and full lips that men no doubt fell in love with.
Spitfire was a perfect name for the fiery redhead with pale skin and huge breasts. A bundle of energy and nonstop talker, her green eyes flashed with life. She talked so fast Shadoe understood only half of what she said. She was incredibly exuberant and obviously the welcoming committee of the bunch.
Star was a cool raven-haired beauty with gray eyes that seemed to always assess. She didn’t say much, wasn’t exactly unfriendly, just wasn’t overly social either. She nodded when Shadoe introduced herself. Shadoe noticed she didn’t seem to be chatty with any of the other girls. She sat at her table putting on her makeup and kept to herself. Maybe she was shy; maybe it was just her personality. Could be something else, but people who weren’t friendly weren’t to be trusted, at least in Shadoe’s opinion. She’d have to keep her eye on Star.
“So you’re the new girl.”
As Shadoe sat at her makeup table to do her face, she looked up into the eyes of a very tall, gorgeous blonde with big blue eyes and a knockout figure. “Yes, I’m Desi.”
“I’m Cheri, and I’m the lead here. We’ll see what kind of headliner you are.”
“Quit being such a bitch, Cheri,” Ariele said, moving over to stand next to Shadoe. “Can’t you just welcome Desi?”
Cheri lifted her chin and glared at Ariele. “I just did, didn’t I?”
Cheri walked away and Ariele flipped her off. “Cow.” She turned to Shadoe. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She thinks she’s hot shit and has delusions of being a headliner.” Ariele leaned in to whisper, “Which will never happen, because she has about as much sex appeal as stale bread. Wait till you catch her act.”
A dancer with a chip on her shoulder, and she already hated Shadoe? Great. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Ariele patted her shoulder, then went off to get ready for her act. Shadoe was pretty much ready other than getting dressed, and she had an hour to kill before she went on. She could throw on a robe and hang out at the doorway to watch the other dancers, get a feel for their rhythm.
That might help relax her. If they could do it, she could, too.
She didn’t know why she was so tense tonight. It wasn’t the first night she’d stripped. She’d done it in Dallas to a large crowd and hadn’t thought much of it at all.
Then again, maybe that’s because back in Dallas she’d just thrown herself on the stage without thinking about what she was doing.
She’d had plenty of time to think about it since, and she had the added pressure of the case now, of watching for the rogue agent. Plus, AJ and Pax were out there watching.
Which really should be no different from Spence seeing her strip, right?
Who was she kidding? It was different. Tonight, everything was. She grabbed a robe and tied the sash, then slid out the door and down the hall. The blaring music pounded in her temples and jacked up her already haywire nervous system. The hallway was pitch-dark and she had to feel the wall to make her way toward the light at the entrance to the doorway. She intended to linger there and peek at the dancers, hopefully gain some courage that way, but she crashed into something huge and immobile. It took her only a second to realize she’d run into a large, hard body, definitely male.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to focus in the darkness on the face of whoever she’d run into.
“No need to be sorry.”
“Spence. What are you doing back here?” She pivoted, certain someone was going to come rushing up to them and bust them, but she didn’t know why she was so nervous. Some of the other girls had their boyfriends in the dressing room. Spence in the hallway was no big deal. After all, he was her bodyguard and her boyfriend—at least that’s what everyone was supposed to believe. He had every right to be back here.
“Just came to check on you.”
“I’m fine. Get back out there.”
Instead, he pulled her against his chest. “Coming out to take a peek?”
“I was.” She pulled the robe sash tighter around her.
“Then let’s go take a look.”
“I don’t think—”
He didn’t give her time to finish her sentence, but instead wrapped his arm around her middle and walked her toward the doors, then stepped back to the corner. There, she could watch the dancers but the corner was recessed so they were out of the swinging doorway.
“This is a good spot.”
“I guess so.” He hadn’t let go of her. He was so big, his body pressed up against her. She felt him everywhere, and she was naked underneath her robe. His fingertips rested just under her left breast where he no doubt felt the rapid thumping of her heart.
“Relax, Desi,” he whispered in her ear. “Just watch and let me take care of you.”
Take care of her. What did he—
He moved his hand upward, sliding it inside her robe to cup her breast. Her breath caught and for only a fraction of a second she thought about darting away. But it was dark here and even the other girls wouldn’t see them. They used a different door to enter and exit the stage.
Her lips parted as she fought for breath. The thought of being caught was both mortifying and tantalizing as Spence slid the pad of his thumb across her nipple. His breath, hot and tinged with the scent of tequila, sailed across her cheek. She felt the hard ridge of his cock as it grew more insistent against her hip.
“I’ve thought about you all day, and tonight,” he whispered against her ear. “About leaning you over one of those barstools out there and fucking you from behind. Or laying you across the table and eating your pussy until you scream.”
Her legs trembled as she picked up images of him doing those things to her. She wanted that, wanted him to take her in so many different ways. Her nipples tightened, tingled with need as he flicked one with his fingers, then rolled it, pinched it.
“Do you like to have your nipples sucked, Shadoe?”
“Yes.”
“Soft and gentle, or harder?”
“Hard.” She could barely speak. Her throat had gone dry, but between her legs, she was wet. So wet.
Spence parted her robe and slid his hand across her hip. She shuddered at the contact of his palm on her skin.
“Shhh, relax, baby. I’m going to make you come. I’m going to touch your pussy, pet your clit, and shove my fingers inside you until you come for me.”
Oh, God. He really meant to do that, didn’t he? “Spence, I . . . I have to . . .”
“You don’t have to do anything but relax and let me take care of you.”
He gripped her hip, pushed against her, let her feel his cock. She remembered last night, how it felt inside her, filling her, and oh, she wanted that again. She wanted him again, in so many different ways. But this . . . this was erotic, naughty. Anyone could come through those doors, including Brandon. What would he think? Would she be fired?
Her clit quivered. The thrill of the forbidden.
“Do it,” she begged. “Make me come, Spence.”
It wouldn’t take long. She was already on the verge and he hadn’t touched her there yet.
When he did, when he cupped her sex with his huge, calloused hand, she arched against him, rocking her pussy toward his hand.
“Yeah, that’s what I like, Shadoe,” he whispered, abandoning her stage name. She loved hearing him say her name, loved the way he slid his palm across her naked sex.
“I can
smell you. When you go out there tonight, when you shake your pretty cunt in front of all those guys, they’ll be able to smell it, too, and know you’re mine. They’re going to want you, to want to fuck you, but only I’m going to fuck you.”
She reached up and twined her arm around the back of his head. “Yes. Only you.”
He slid two fingers inside her and she rose on her tiptoes, needing more, needing him deeper.
“You are so wet, Shadoe. So hot and tight. I want my dick inside you.”
“Spence.” She wanted that, too.
“Later tonight I’m going to fuck you hard until I come.”
She closed her eyes, oblivious now to anything but the pleasure he gave her, his fingers stroking her hard and fast toward an orgasm she craved more than the air she breathed. And when it hit, she shrieked, the sound muffled by the loud music beyond the doors. Her pussy gripped his fingers in a tight vise as she rode a blasting climax that left her shaking and disoriented.
It was Spence who withdrew, turned her around and pulled her robe together, then tilted her chin back and kissed her. “Now go get dressed and relax. And remember, you’re mine to fuck later.”
She shuddered at the powerful confidence in his voice, her mind awash in visuals of the two of them alone later.
She already wished it was later.
She nodded and walked on unsteady legs back to the dressing room, wondering if it showed on her face when she went through the doors.
No one paid any attention to her, fortunately. She cleaned up and fixed her hair and makeup, then grabbed a bottle of water and took a couple long swallows before letting out a very satisfied breath.
Wow. Spence was a genius. She wasn’t only relaxed now, she was a quivering pile of Jell-O. Tension gone. She smiled and went to grab her costume, ready to take on her job as headliner.
ELEVEN
BY THE TIME SPENCE FOUND A SPOT TO STAND NEAR THE STAGE, the club was jammed solid. He even recognized a few of the guys from the docks today.
Good. Shadoe would be happy to know her efforts hadn’t been wasted.
And hopefully she was more relaxed now.
Though he was wound up tighter than a string on a bow after what went down in the darkened hall. Her scent still lingered on him and the way she shuddered and came apart was burned into his memory. He’d gotten his erection under control, but he’d had to do some serious thinking about math and fishing to get it there.
Now he was going to have to watch her strip.
This was going to be a test of his endurance.
He noticed AJ and Pax had moved to a table near the stage. Assholes. Pax lifted his gaze and winked. Spence’s arms were crossed and he lifted a middle finger. AJ grinned, then turned his attention to the girl currently dancing on the stage, a long-legged, dark-skinned beauty named Elan, if Spence remembered her name right. She had lush, slow moves that were meant to seduce.
All the girls had some kind of special talent, all were decent dancers, and Spence wasn’t the least bit interested, which was rare for him. He tended to gravitate toward strippers. They tended to be just like him—not all that interested in permanent relationships, out for a good time, and no strings attached. His kind of woman.
Shadoe? Not that kind of woman at all. She was from a solid family—okay, maybe a broken home, but she had a stable father—military, even. Good schools, great job, a future ahead of her. She had goals and ambitions and none of those included stripping or fucking around with no strings attached.
So what was the attraction? Something about her seemed just a little bit lost. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t put his finger on who. He just felt . . . close to her, a kinship. There was definitely an attraction. He wanted her, but then, he loved fucking women, so desiring her didn’t surprise him.
The music had stopped after the last dancer, and the stage went dark. Men crowded all around, eager to see the headliner. He hoped Shadoe had stayed relaxed enough, because the front end of the club was wall-to-wall guys.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please,” the deejay announced. “From Dallas, Texas, let’s give it up for Desi!”
The lights hit the stage opening just as the sound of revving motorcycle engines—loud and heavy on the throttle—shot through the speakers. Smoke poured from the floor and filled the stage. Her music queued up and Desi burst through the door.
Spence stopped breathing. She wore a floor-length black leather duster, buttoned at the top but the bottom flapped back as she walked. She had on those fuck-me thigh-high boots that made his throat go dry. When she got to the front of the stage, she jerked the coat open and threw it off, revealing a black leather bra and matching leather boy shorts that barely covered her assets. Both were decorated with silver studs just like a bike seat. When she turned around to shake her ass, emblazoned on the back of the shorts was the name Desi in silver studs across her butt. The lights shined right down on her perfectly rounded butt cheeks, which looked even better encased in tight black leather.
Goddamn. He didn’t think he’d ever seen so many guys not yelling and catcalling. They were as stunned as he was. No one moved—except Shadoe. Her hips swung from side to side as she bent her knees and swayed down to the floor, touching her fingers there. She searched the crowd, seemingly making eye contact with everyone, but he knew she looked for him. She found him, smiled, winked, then threw her head back and laughed like she was having the time of her life. Then she raised up and shimmied around the stage in a frenetic dance, using every part of her body to move.
The club woke up, especially when Shadoe gave a high kick, leaped, and grabbed the pole, doing a double swing around it. They went wild.
She had them in the palm of her hand then, and she knew it. He caught her smirk, the gleam in her eye. She pulled off the bra, then the boy shorts, leaving her in only her black leather G-string. She shook her stuff, prancing around the stage like she owned it.
And for three minutes, Spence believed her to be the headliner she was. She was confident, in charge, and sexy as hell.
She rocked it. Money flew all over the stage, and when she finished, the floor was covered in bills. The bouncers had to keep guys from clamoring onto the stage after her, especially when she crawled over to them and cocked her hip toward them so they’d tuck money in her G-string.
She owned every man in the joint.
Hell, she’d owned him during that dance. And he wanted to tear apart every guy who thought he had a chance with her. Even AJ and Pax had been riveted, their mouths open as they watched Shadoe with lust in their eyes. He’d seen the way they looked at her. He knew those guys, knew their sexual needs. If they even thought for a second—
No way was that going to happen. Not with Shadoe. Not ever. Primal instinct had kicked in and he wanted to pull every man away from the stage and shout that the woman up there was his.
Fuck. What was wrong with him? He snapped his gaze back to Shadoe. Her gaze had found his again and he read the desire in her eyes, the slight smile meant only for him.
The song ended, the stage went black, and Spence realized his hands were clenched into fists.
Now who was tense? Beads of sweat trickled down his temple. He swept them away and went to the bar to get a beer, downing half of it in a couple swallows.
AJ sidled up to the bar next to him. It was crowded and noisy and no one paid attention to the two of them.
“Goddamn, that was hot,” AJ said, taking the beer the bartender gave him before turning around to face the stage.
Spence didn’t say anything. AJ arched a brow. “You screwing her yet? Because if not . . .”
“Fuck off.”
AJ’s lips lifted. “Guess you are. Too bad.” He tilted the beer bottle to his lips and walked away.
Asshole. AJ and Pax could just go find another woman willing to play their game of threesome.
Spence whirled around at the sound of cheers and clapping. Shadoe had walked through the door . . . or rather,
Desi had. She was dressed in a white minidress that cut high on her thighs and scooped in around her breasts in halter fashion, tight and low. She wore white stiletto heels, so she was definitely dressed the part.
He moved over to the doorway where she stood, crowded in by eager new fans. Two of the Wild Rose bodyguards had already taken position on either side of her to keep her from being rushed by the guys.
Spence muscled in, much to the irritation of the crowd. He elbowed more than a few of them in his efforts to get to her.
“Hey, that’s my bodyguard,” she said, motioning for them to let Spence through.
She smiled when he made his way to her side. He felt like ten times an idiot for not being backstage to accompany her out. It was time to remember his cover and stop thinking with his dick.
He took her chin between his fingers and tilted her face up to press a kiss to her lips. “Nice job,” he murmured before he straightened.
“Thanks.” Her smile widened, then she looped her arm in his and made her way through the throng.
“Give the lady some breathing space and she’ll have time to visit with everyone,” Spence said.
They backed away and the bouncers ahead of them cleared a path. One of them turned to her. “We’ve set up a table for you in the back. Looks like you’re going to be busy for a while.”
Shadoe pushed her hair away from her face. “Wow. It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it? And thanks.”
She took a seat at the long black table and it didn’t take seconds for about six guys to sit down with her, their faces eager.
What? Did they expect her to strip at the table? Not fucking likely.
“How about a drink?” she finally asked.
At least she knew what to do.
They fell over themselves getting a drink for her. Spence rolled his eyes. The next hour went that way, while Spence took up position behind her, watching for anyone who got too close or thought they could put his hands on her. Typically his glare would put anyone off, but the few brave ones who pushed their luck got removed in a hurry.