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But that hadn’t been my filthiest fantasy, by a long shot. The filthiest had come when I was alone late at night, in my bedroom of the double-wide my dad and stepmom owned. That had come as a dream, really, a dream I’d never forgotten.
My gaze roamed over the three men, noting how Diesel’s dark brown hair, curling at his shoulders, was on the verge of needing another cut. He’d ask me to cut it when he was ready, he always did. Diesel had a role in that dream, though I’d never admit it to him.
Yeah, I also had the hots for my stepbrother, even though I’d tried to talk myself out of it more than once. For a girl who could be labeled as a sex worker, I wasn’t getting enough sex, and it was plain to see as I stared out at the three men that had given me more than one orgasm in sex dreams. Especially that one that still haunted me, the one where I’d had sex with all three of them at once.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I pulled my gaze away, angry with myself. My eyes wandered back to the table, despite my efforts to control myself. Diesel’s dark brown eyes were on Mr. Thomas, sizing him up. I could tell that even from this distance. Derek was relaxed on the other side of the table from Diesel, his blue eyes on Mindy but I knew he wasn’t paying attention to her. He was listening to whatever it was Mr. Thomas was saying. I’d go to their table after my set, I decided.
If I could get my nerve up. Mr. Thomas might be disappointed to find me working here and I’d hate to see the look that some men gave me in his eyes, like I was a piece of meat that would go to the highest bidder, without thoughts or feelings. That would be a spike in my heart if I saw that on him. Yet something told me that wouldn’t happen, even if I had to squash down the doubt to a deep, dark place.
I sent an air kiss to Mindy as she walked by me, glad to see the huge smile on her face. She’d made bank, then. I’d been too busy lusting after the impossible to notice how the crowd reacted to her set.
“Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our very own angel,” the DJ announced, and I knew it was my turn.
I performed the set, my eyes only leaving the trio at the table when I closed them or when I was facing away from them. From the few short moments where I was on the stage to the points where I was on the pole, climbing, wiggling out of my top, my eyes were on Derek, Diesel, and Mr. Thomas. I came to a halt at the bottom of the pole, my head thrown back, my breasts high on my chest, eating up the foot-stomping roars of applause and appreciation. Money rained down on the stage and I got up with a laugh and wave of acknowledgement.
Once the money was gathered, I left the stage and headed for the dressing room. I sent one last glance at the men at the table and made a decision. I had no chance with any of those men. Derek saw me as nothing but his best friend’s kid. Diesel, my handsome asshole of a stepbrother saw me as his kid sister, and Mr. Cameron Thomas would only see me as a kid he’d once taught Algebra to, one that was such a failure she ended up stripping to support herself. Normally, I didn’t feel like a failure, I felt empowered by what I did for a living, but now, with a man like Mr. Thomas sitting out there in the audience, I felt a prickle of self-doubt. Would he see me as a failure?
So why was I torturing myself, thinking of them constantly?
I threw the bag of cash down on the floor by the couch and sank down to remove my boots. I was so fucked up, in need of a shrink, but I’d never go. How could I admit to anyone that I crushed badly on three men who were the most forbidden to me?
