Page 50 of Sexy

“No,” I cut her off. “I’m scrappy, Tiffy. That’s not what I want. I can find my own way in this world. I don’t need your handouts. Fuck the job. I’ve already written it off and have three ideas for replacing the money.”

She squints at me, suspicious. “Then what do you want?”

She has every right to be suspicious. Because I’m smiling a devious I-am-sexy-fucking-Fletcher-Novak smile. “A lap dance, Tiffy. I want a lap dance. Right here. Right now.”

Chapter Seventeen

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” And he isn’t. I can tell. Because he stands up and walks across the large flat boulder to another one that is the perfect height to sit on. “Come on, show me your stuff. Show me how sexy you are. And if you do that, I’ll give you everything you want.”

“Fletcher, I’m not a stripper.”

“Neither was I nine months ago. My first lap dance was hilarious. Chandler laughed his ass off. I had to do him, by the way. So at least you’ve got me to entice. Just imagine trying to be sexy with a dude like him.”

I laugh as I picture him. “But you’re different. You’re good at this stuff. Girls look at you and imagine ripping your clothes off. Guys look at me and imagine the granny pants I have on under my suit.”

“No,” he says with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the thought going through my head that night I saw you at the show was, She looks fuckable.”

“It was not. I was a prissy bitch to you that night.”

“You were a sex kitten, Tiffy. Even your name is sexy. You opened that door and the look on your face said insatiable sexual appetite.”

“Fuck you,” I chuckle, trying to hide my blush. “It did not. I was thinking about how to fire you that night.”

“Lap dance. Come on. Get up and do it.”

“I don’t even know what a lap dance is. I’ve only ever seen one at your show.”

He eyes me suspiciously, considering if I’m lying or not. And then he stands up, takes my hand, whirls me around and pushes down on my shoulders. “OK, I’ll go first then. But you’re not getting out of it.”

I take a deep breath as I look up into his blue eyes. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I imagine what it would be like to watch him try to seduce me with a dance. I blush. Fiercely.

He shoots me one of those grins that light up his face. “Ready?”

I nod.

“Pay close attention, Tiffy.” He says this as his hips begin to move back and forth. I’m already mesmerized. But when he places his hands on my shoulders and straddles my legs, I have to gulp down air. “You have to make contact, Tiff. It’s the most important thing. I touch you here,” he says, his voice lowering as he rubs my shoulders, “and if you’re into me, a chill should run through your body.”

It does. It so does.

His hips are right in front of my face now, and I can’t help but stare at his torso. My eyes slip down to his belt. And then his hands are there, playing with the waistband of his jeans. “And then you direct my eyes down to your hips. Just like that.”

I glance up at him to see if he’s laughing, but he’s got a serious look on his face. And if I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know that this was the infamous Fletcher Novak, the guy who fucks anyone he wants, whenever he wants, and doesn’t have a flavor of the week, but a flavor of the day—then I might think he’s into me.

“When my eyes are on your hips, you tease me with them. Be my fantasy, Tiffy. Make me imagine what you’d look like with no clothes.”

Jesus. I can imagine. I saw him that first night. I saw him naked the next day. I sucked his dick looking up at him like this. It’s very easy to imagine him naked. He certainly qualifies as my fantasy.

He begins to play with my hair, taking the long dark strands into his fingers, caressing it in a long dragging motion until I feel a feather-light touch on the top of my breast. I look up at him again.

“Touch my chest first. Soft strokes that make me feel like this is all real.”

It’s not real, Tiffy. I say it to remind myself. It’s not real. This is a job to him.

His fingers slide between my bra strap and my skin, sweeping up until they’re on top of my shoulders. “It’s a tease, though. That’s the most important thing to remember. It’s just a tease. You want me to look at you with lust. You want me to look at you with desire. You want me to think I have a chance.”

You have no chance, Tiffy. Oh my God. Why am I even thinking these things?