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“Not on the schedule.”
“She’s here. Her car is outside,” I argue.
“Give me a minute,” he says before walking to the side and speaking quietly into the headset he’s wearing.
He looks me over more than once while he’s chatting, and I’m wondering if he’s calling backup because he’s reading me right about not causing trouble. I’m vibrating with energy, my cock already half hard at the thought of seeing her dance and the thrill of kicking some guy’s ass for seeing that very same thing.
“Payment?” he asks as he steps back up to me.
I hand over my credit card, waiting for him to slide it. I don’t even check the price when he turns the tablet in my direction so I can sign off on the purchase.
“I’ll escort you,” the man says after he hands back my card. “There are rules.”
“Okay,” I tell him as I follow him along a dark hallway. I’ve yet to see inside the club. The front is separated by a thick, dark glass, making it impossible to see what’s going on inside, and the hallway we’re walking down is regal with red carpets and gold sconces on the walls, but there are no windows into the club.
“No touching.”
“Of course not.” This news makes me giddy. Now if only I can gouge out all the eyes that have seen Kendall naked.
“No hip thrusts. If the girl complains that you’re grinding your dick on her, you’re out. No refunds.”
“No grinding. Got it.”
“Oh, she can grind on you all she wants, but you just can’t do it back. The dances are monitored.”
“People are allowed to watch?” That creeps me out.
“Security is watching to make sure our girls are safe. Don’t ask her to break the rules because she won’t.”
“No touching, no grinding. Got it,” I say, repeating the rules.
“No licking either.”
“Licking?” I make a grossed-out face and he smiles. “That happens?”
“Not often, but I thought you’d need the warning.”
“I look like a licker to you?”
The guy doesn’t answer my question. “You’re in room three. She’ll be there in a minute. Music preference?”
“Something slow and sensual,” I say automatically.
“You got it,” he says before disappearing back down the hall.
I open the door to the room and step inside. The chair in the center of the room looks like a throne, but I feel less like a king and more like a fool when I sit down in it. I plan to confront a girl I hardly know about a lie she didn’t have to tell, and although I’ve run this through my head a million times, I know her answer doesn’t even matter.
I’m going to leave with a hard-on and blue balls. I shrug as if answering an unasked question. It’s not like I don’t walk around with blue balls already because of her, so nothing is really going to change.
My pulse ramps up when music fills the room, but the door doesn’t open. Is it possible that she can see me in here and decided not to come?
The song plays through, continuing on repeat once it’s done. Just as I’m about to stand and leave, the door cracks open. She doesn’t automatically enter, and all I can see are her red-tipped toenails and part of a very high heel.
I shift on the chair, wanting to go to her, but not wanting to get kicked out of here before all of this plays out.
Her eyes are downcast when she finally pushes the door open, and she closes it, back plastered to the thing.
I wait for her to look up, not wanting to miss her reaction when she sees me.
When she finally gets the courage to lift her head, her eyes widen, her face a mix of what can only be described as terror with a hint of elation.
“Finn,” she whispers, her hands coming up to her throat.
I don’t know that she’s ever used the shortened version of my name until now, and I like it. My dick likes it. Hell, every part of me likes it.
I don’t say a word. She knows why I’m here. At least it’s clear I’ve bought a dance, and she’s smart enough to know we’re not meeting in this room because of chance. I’m here because I know she lied about where she works.
Her eyes dart to the corner of the room, and although it’s too dark in here for me to see it, I imagine one of the cameras that security has is mounted there.
The song begins for the third time, the low bass seeming to make her remember why she’s here, and I have to shift again when she starts to prowl toward me. I drop my eyes from her mouth to her hips as they sway closer, and I feel like I should request that my hands be tied to this stupid fucking chair because it’s going to be impossible to keep them off of her.
