Let Loose for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  I rub my palms together, my heart racing. Not even HIIT cardio can spike my heartrate this high, and Ty’s not even out yet.

  I take a sip of my drink as the curtain rises.

  The music grows louder as the audience hushes.

  The lights dim before a spotlight is aimed toward the middle of the stage.

  The first guy I see is Ty. He blinks in my direction like he’s surprised. Then he winks and rips—actually rips—his shirt off.

  The tear of fabric down the center happens in slow motion, my mouth watering with every torn stitch.

  I sharply inhale, involuntarily holding my breath as the guys stalk to the edge of the stage, their expressions sultry.

  Seductive.

  Each one a walking fantasy.

  My gaze rakes over Ty’s bare chest, his tattoos following his movements as he flexes every muscle to the beat of the music. I quietly gasp for air like I’m underwater. Like I’m drowning in a hot tub.

  Nothing could’ve prepared me for this… or what comes next.

  CHAPTER 25

  Ty

  She’s here—at my show.

  On my turf.

  Watching me dance.

  Her eyes on my half-naked body like she’s hungry for it. Starving, really.

  And after knowing what part of her tastes like—the taste that refuses to leave my lips or memory—I’d be more than happy to oblige with her other needs.

  I’m a little shocked she came. Even though she said she was, I wasn’t sure until I saw her there in the front row, sipping on a clear drink, her delicate fingers wrapped around the straw.

  I move my body to “What’s Your Fantasy,” dropping to the ground and humping the air, all the while turned on by Emma who’s obviously enjoying herself. She’s a few feet from the stage, but I can sense it. She’s got the same dazed look she had the night in her bathroom when I nipped at her breasts.

  I lock eyes with her, lick my lips, then do a push-up before jumping back up. She fights a smile, and I’d bet money she’s blushing. Which makes me smirk and turns me on even more.

  It’s like she’s the only one who exists in this room, even though there are close to a hundred people in here. They’re all cheering and giggling and blushing. Women of all ages—from eighteen to sixty-five. They all want to live a fantasy during this hour and a half when we strip on stage, pretending to be just that for them.

  But right now, my fantasy consists of one thing: licking Emma Jones’s perfect body from head to toe. Yanking her ponytail as I push inside her, while her screams of pleasure fill the room.

  I use my urges to my advantage, letting them fuel my every move. On the other side of the room from Emma, I grin at a couple of twins in the front.

  When it’s time for each of us to pick our girls to dance with for the night, I know Sebastian will go for his girl, Kendall. Since it’s his last show, of course, he’ll dance with his woman. But she’s at Emma’s table. Which means I can’t also go there and give Emma the best lap dance of her life—one we’d both enjoy.

  I wink toward Emma, thinking this works out better, anyway. She may even find it hot, watching me grind against another girl. Or two. I watch the twins giving fuck me eyes and stalk toward them, aware of Emma’s piercing gaze on my back.

  A strange feeling of déjà vu overwhelms me of the night we met.

  When I danced with two girls.

  The reason Emma instantly disliked me.

  It’s too late to turn back now, and besides, I know plenty of women who enjoy watching me dance on others. Maybe Emma just doesn’t yet know she likes it.

  Plus, this is my job.

  I pull each of the twins up on the table and dance between them. These girls are loose and can dance—my types, the ones I pick every show. They’re easy and fun, and they usually ask to take the show up to a private room for a nightcap. And although these two would be fun, I have other plans, which include one petite woman with an ass that won’t quit.

  One whose hatred I’ve been trying to turn into hungry lust for several weeks now.

  I continue dancing to “Pony,” sensually, purposefully. Wanting to make Emma’s mouth water. The girl behind me must like it too judging by the way she rubs her hand down my abs before shamelessly cupping my hard dick.

  This isn’t the first time this has happened. I’ve even taken the liberty to put the girl’s hand there myself during a show. I’m known to push the boundaries more than the rest of the guys.

  So I don’t remove it. Instead, I cover her hand with mine and squeeze, winking back at her.

  But as I do, I meet Emma’s gaze.

  Her nostrils flare, but it’s not from hungry lust. Or even hatred.

  Anger.

  So much anger in her expression that I lose my balance.

  She crosses her arms, staring instead at the empty stage. A woman next to her nudges Emma and points to a middle-aged brunette shimmying on Neal, our backup I’ve worked with several times in the past.

  As the song comes to an end, I convince myself Emma will look back at me and smile. Or at least blush. Any kind of reaction that’s not pissed.

  But she doesn’t.

  She doesn’t look at me for the rest of the show.

  And when we finish our last number, she leaves the venue before the curtains are fully closed.

  My stomach plummets, thinking I’ve lost Emma and what little progress we’ve made.

  Once our emcee Darren announces this is a special night—Sebastian’s last show—my chest tightens.

  The end of an era.

  We’ve been here together since we were nineteen. Learned tricks to getting women going. He was advanced in that aspect, as I was still coming into my own at the time. I was a lanky nerd who discovered how to use a Smith machine just a few months before that. I needed all the help I could get to make it in this business.

  And Sebastian helped me.

  He’s the only one aside from Leo who knows about my past, about my family and the tragedy that plagues us daily.

  One we’ll never get away from.

  I hug my friend, not as a goodbye, but as a see ya later. He might be living in LA and beginning a whole new adventure, but I know our friendship is stronger than a few hundred miles.

  After the show, I follow Sebastian outside to where Kendall and a couple other girls are. Kendall jumps into his arms and kisses him hard on the mouth. I shield my eyes sarcastically. “Whoa, get a room, much?”

  “Seriously? Weren’t you in a porno?” Kendall rolls her eyes at me as Sebastian sets her onto the ground. “Isn’t this, like, PG-rated in your world?”

  “I wasn’t in it. I was just there while my buddy Ricky was in it.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, suddenly embarrassed instead of laughing about it.

  What’s happened to me?

  I haven’t been myself since Emma first snarled at me.

  Kendall waves at her two friends. “Lauren, Margo, this is Ty. Ty, my sister, Lauren, and my friend Margo.”

  “Nice to meet you both, although I think we’ve met?”

  “Yes. A few months ago in LA.” Margo nods and smiles.

  “And we met at my bachelorette party.” Lauren shifts to the side, her cheeks pink like I’m still half-naked and not fully clothed.

  “Right. Fun night.” I grin, then turn to Kendall. “Wasn’t Emma here?”

  “Yes. She went up to the room to change her shoes, in case we decide to go out. Which I assume we are…?”

  I clap my hands and rub them together. “Let’s do it. What room is she in? I’ll go get her, and we’ll meet you.” I pat Sebastian. “Just text me.”

  “Room 2125.”

  I grip Sebastian’s shoulder. “We’ll miss you, player. But we’re happy for you.” He pulls me in for a bro hug, and then I wave them off before I all but sprint upstairs. I’d probably be faster than an elevator with as much adrenaline as I have rushing through me.

  And panic.

  I push the buttons on
the elevator repeatedly, until the gentleman behind me says, “I think you got it.”

  I shove my trembling hands in my pockets to stop them from holding down the button until I get to the twenty-first floor. Once I hear the bing, I run out, looking both ways like I’m crossing the street. I reach her door, smoothing down my T-shirt before knocking.

  Emma opens the door with a hand on her hip, her feet bare. Pink toes curl into the floor, shy of my attention. Like Emma, whose gaze darts back and forth, everywhere but at mine. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I came to get you. We’re going out.”

  She glares at me now, and I think I liked it better when she didn’t look at me at all—her glare is as terrifying as that of a rattlesnake. “I’ll come when I’m ready. Go ahead.” She tries to close the door, but I reach out to stop her. She continues trying to shut it, putting all her strength into it, which is a lot.

  If we manage to move past whatever this is between us, I’m challenging her to an arm wrestling match. I give her good odds.

  “Go away,” she says, but her eyes give her away once she finally looks up. She’s sad. Hurt. And I need to know why.

  “Let me in.”

  “No.”

  “Emma. Let me in.”

  She steps away from the door, but I’m still leaning on it. Tumbling inside, I’m barely able to stay upright. I’m sure she would’ve loved it had I fallen on my face.

  Chest heaving, perfect breasts on display in her low-cut sequin dress, she innocently says, “Oops. Close one.” She smiles sarcastically before moving past me to retrieve a makeup bag from the bed. She goes into the bathroom like I’m not even here. Like there’s nothing wrong.

  But there is.

  And I’m not leaving here until I find out what it is.

  I lean on the doorframe while she curls her lashes, her mouth forming an O in the mirror, shooting blood straight to my cock. “Will you talk to me?”

  She stops but doesn’t turn around. Watching me in the mirror, she answers, “About? You’re the one barging in here like you have something to say.” She spreads her arms wide, her subtle bicep showing, the line defined and sexy as fuck.

  I push more of my weight on the doorframe, afraid I’ll collapse from how much this woman—this infuriatingly stubborn woman—turns me on. “I do have something to say, but first, I want to know why you left. Why are you upset?”

  “Ha! I’m not upset, bucko.” She smooths in her red lipstick with her finger, a dark contrast to her pale skin and black hair. I want that same mouth to leave red smudges all over my body—but I have to get through to her first.

  “You seem pretty upset to me, and the sooner you tell me why, the sooner we can have some fun.”

  “I’m not interested in the fun you’re referring to. But hey, maybe the twin skanks would still be up for it. Or even Tarryn? Did you invite her too?” She moves past me, patting me on the shoulder and showing me the door. “Go, have fun, and make sure to get checked afterward. They have nasty crotch written all over them and their slutty skirts.”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “If you don’t quit telling me how I fucking feel—”

  I close the door and corner her into the wall by the bathroom, two inches from her face so she can’t keep running from me. “You’ll what? Give in? Bow down to me because you know I’m right?”

  “You’re such an arrogant prick.”

  “And you’re avoiding the real problem. You’re jealous I wasn’t on the table dancing with you.”

  Her expression relaxes a hint, but her nostrils flare, her gaze settling on my lips.

  I run my hand down her cheek, my thumb stopping on her bottom lip, tracing it as her breath audibly hitches. “But you were supposed to enjoy the show. How seductive the moves are. What my body looks like mostly naked, wondering what’s underneath. To wonder how I could make you feel, what my touch would do to you…”

  Her lips part farther, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “I think you’d love a threesome.”

  Her eyes widen then, sobering as she swats my hand away. “I would not.”

  “Because you’re scared? Scared of embracing your sexuality and not having to apologize for it?” I lower my voice. It’s hushed and slow. Methodical, so she can feel every word coursing through her body.

  “No, I’m not scared.” Her voice trembles, her eyes icing over.

  “Then why?”

  “Because I don’t fucking share.”

  I back off. Now I’m the one who’s scared. I hadn’t expected that from her. She’s usually curt and serious, but this time, she’s pissed. Enraged.

  Feral.

  And so fucking sexy I could bust a nut right now, fully clothed, with a foot between us.

  Shocked, I quirk an eyebrow, and she doesn’t budge. Our breathing speeds up, afraid to move, afraid of what’s next.

  But we both know what’s next—we can’t fight it anymore.

  CHAPTER 26

  Emma

  His lips crash onto mine, his hands holding both my cheeks, holding me in place. His tongue pushes inside my mouth, finding mine in a punishing, erotic kiss. Everything built up to this moment. The moment we finally act on our mutual hatred for each other.

  Except it’s been disguised as lust all along.

  And right now, in a Vegas hotel room as darkness cloaks us, we explode.

  He pushes me against the wall, his strong arms pulling me up so I can wrap my legs around him. I faintly hear a rip from my fitted dress tearing on the side.

  It’s intense—this kiss.

  And the hungrier we become for each other, the wetter I get. More so than I was when Ty walked through the door in his low-hung jeans and fitted gray tee.

  I moan when he nips at my bottom lip.

  “This lip has been teasing me for months. And this ass?” Growling, he grips my ass over my dress firmly, possessively. “Let’s just say you’ll be paying for all of it tonight.”

  He moves us to the bed, his lips never leaving mine.

  Ty’s raw intensity steals my breath. His want for me makes me feel so… sexy.

  I gasp when he tosses me backward, my legs spread as far as my fitted dress will allow, the rip tearing a little more. His gaze lands there, between my thighs, my most intimate part. I blush as he takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck,” he whispers, not in frustration or anger, but in painful reverence. “Just seeing you like this… Jesus, Emma. You’re going to make me explode before I even get a taste of your sweet pussy first.”

  My heart stops at his dirty words—turning me on. Dirty talk has never had this effect on me before, but it’s different coming from Ty.

  Heart racing, I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand, then assault those dirty lips, tugging at his shirt. We break apart long enough to rid him of it. I run my hands along his six-pack, the same six-pack I had to share with a room full of others moments before.

  But right now? Here? These abs are mine.

  He’s mine.

  No more logical Emma. I put her to bed for tonight.

  But a different bed, eighteen floors below this one, far away from me.

  He runs his hands along my thighs and underneath my dress, going to my bare ass first before hooking his thumbs on either side of my thong. Yanking it down, I shimmy out of it.

  Frantic, he kisses me and walks us backward again.

  Hands.

  Lips.

  Moans.

  We’re one giant mix of hormones and months of unsettled tension.

  I stop kissing him to catch my breath as his finger teases my entrance. My legs tremble from the anticipation, my eyes fluttering closed when his finger sinks slowly, painfully, inside me.

  “Emma…” He rests his forehead against mine. “You’re so wet. And tight. And so fucking perfect.”

  I moan into his mouth as he kisses me once more, his second finger joining the other inside me. Pushing in and out of me at a quicker pace.
“I need you. Now,” I pant.

  A guttural sound escapes him, his chest heaving against mine as his fingers pull out. “Tell me what you want, Emma. Say it.” He holds my gaze, bringing his fingers to his lips, savoring the taste of me, like he’s challenging me to say the words.

  Like hell will break loose if I say them.

  And I take the chance.

  “I want you.”

  “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.” He pulls on my ponytail, encouraging me to say the words. He tugs on my hair the longer I stay silent, then kisses up my neck, and our breathing only grows louder and faster. “Tell me,” he whispers against my skin, his warm breath making my whole body tingle.

  I’ve never experienced foreplay like this—or foreplay of any kind really. It’s a major turn-on, especially with his demanding tone. And I’m more turned on with each normally foreign word leaving my mouth, every word he soaks in letter by letter, as we focus on each other’s eyes. “I want you to fuck me, Ty.”

  He pushes me back onto the bed. Bending over me, he hikes my dress up over my hips with eager movements, my arms spread wide, gripping the sheets in preparation. He kisses me before standing up to unzip his jeans. The sound echoes as though we’re in a large stadium and not this small room.

  My core clenches more and more as he stands bare in front of me.

  He tears open a condom and rolls it on slowly, making my eyes bulge. I lick my lips, ready for him. Using his knee, he pushes my leg open wide for him, the hot pressure at my core about to combust like boiling water in a teakettle.

  He meets my gaze as I feel him against me. My eyes roll into the back of my head as he slides inside me, a gasp escaping as he stretches me. He then slowly thrusts again and again, deeper and deeper each time until he’s settled deep inside me.

  My mouth hangs open.

  How perfectly he fits there.

  He hisses, “So damn tight and sexy.” He thrusts once more into me. “And mine.” He leans over and kisses me, my fingers digging into his back, clinging to him as the tension builds.

  My whimpers mix with our ragged breathing as the glow from the bright lights outside our window streams in.

  As he picks up his pace, I grip the sheets tightly, my vision blurring. My core clenches more and more with every thrust. I’m on the brink of ecstasy as the sounds of our two slick bodies coming together fills the room.