Forced.
He held up two fifties. “I’d love a lap dance.”
She glanced over at Carrera to find him and Karen staring at her. And an idea took hold that she couldnotresist.
She wanted to make Carrera crazy with desire and wild with envy. She wanted to tease him with her body, torture him with what could have been. She wanted to make him pay for the hurt and the heartache he’d caused her all those years ago.
“My pleasure.” Slash took the customer’s cash, slid it into her thong, then started dancing seductively to the beat of the music.
The patron moved his chair, giving her full access to his lap. While gyrating her hips, she slowly untied the sarong and draped it around his neck. When she turned her ass toward him, she locked eyes with Carrera.
The lust in his eyes left her breathless. As she slithered and wiggled over this guy, Carrera tapped his fingers on the table.
Impatient? Annoyed? Either works.
Whatever it took to get under his skin, make him angry, or make him regret the damage he’d done to her would be well worth her efforts.
With an arched brow, she turned back toward the guy and lowered herself onto him. His audible moan made her want to grimace, but she stayed focused on his face.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
“No,” she replied as she continued teasing him with her body.
“My god, you’re even prettier up close,” he said. “I would cut off my right arm for a shot with you.”
She wasn’t impressed.
When the song ended, she stepped away.
“That was great,” he said. “I was hoping my hundred would get me a little contact.”
“That’s not happening.” She retrieved her sarong and tied it around her waist.
To her surprise, Karen had pulled a chair over and was chatting it up pretty good with Carrera.
As she sashayed by him, he didn’t even glance in her direction. For a woman who kept her emotions on lockdown, Slash wanted to scream.
No one on the entire planet infuriated her more than Carrera Santini.
Carrera
Carrera’s agitationwas front and center… but he only had himself to blame. Slash had danced on that guy to piss him off. He was sure of it.
Why else would she be eye-fucking me?
He hated watching. It took all his willpowernotto pull her away. But Slash wasn’t his and that kind of behavior would kill their partnership. He had a plan, so he sat there, gritting his teeth through her sexy performance.
Tonight, however, he was Claude Amos, a wealthy out-of-town businessman. Dressed in duds from Luciano’s designer line, he’d worn a $7600 sport coat, a $1500 pair of black stretch pants, a $700 white dress shirt, and a pair of $2900 dress shoes.
When he first arrived, thirty minutes ago, he asked to speak with the manager. Karen Woodside had been talking his ear off when Slash strutted onto one of the stages.
And his brain shorted.
Sensual, stunning, and commanding, she strutted around like a woman who was in complete control. Second to no one, her sexuality drove him wild with need.
After he introduced himself to the GM, she paraded a steady stream of dancers his way, hoping to entice him into forking over $5000 for a membership.
Then, he had to endure Slash’s fucking lap dance… on someone else.
