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Un-fucking-believable.
I step into the path of one of the dancers who’s dressed in a spangled purple G-string, a white feather boa, and nothing else. “Tell her to come out and talk to me.”
The woman gives me an up-and-down. “Who?”
“Mia.” She stares at me blankly, and I growl through my teeth, “Tasha.”
Purple G-string gives me a sarcastic smirk and places a hand on her hip. “We don’t follow your orders here, honey. If you want to see Tasha, you’ll need to pay for a private dance.”
I pull my wallet out of the back of my jeans. “Then I’ll pay for a private dance.”
She points where I need to go, and after I hand over the money I’m shown into a small room and told to wait.
A few minutes later, Mia comes through the door wearing a ruffled white G-string.
Clear plastic high heels.
The curly lilac wig.
A flirty smile on her glossy lips directed right at me.
And absolutely nothing else.
She looks like jailbait. Mouthwatering, innocent jailbait. Not usually my type, the barely legal girl who probably doesn’t know her way around her own clit, but I happen to know this petite angel has a pussy of molten gold and can grind herself to orgasm on my fingers.
I open my mouth to ask her what the hell she’s doing here, but she puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me back against my seat. A song starts playing, something sexy and slow, and Mia straddles my lap.
As she slinks closer to me, and I catch the scent and heat of her perfect body, my dick stands to attention again.
I grip the sides of my chair. Oh, Jesus. I wasn’t expecting this. I planned to yell at Mia to explain herself, but she’s dragging her pussy along my erection and suddenly I’m seeing stars.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What do you think, baby?” she murmurs in the horniest voice I’ve ever heard. “I’m giving you a dance.”
She’s not acting like she even recognizes me. The crazy thought occurs to me that Mia has a twin, but I recognize the small mole on the side of her throat. I kissed that mole the other day in my car. It’s definitely her.
“You do know who I am, right?”
Maybe she’s high as a kite and she doesn’t realize the man she’s writhing against is her stepfather.
“Sure I do. What are you doing here, Laz?”
Mia holds on to my shoulders and arches all the way back, moving her body in a slow semi-circle. The colored lights overhead play across her flawless skin.
“Mia—”
“It’s Tasha.” She meets my gaze and gives me a wink. “But you can call me Bambi if you like. Shall I take this off?”
She runs a teasing finger under the waistband of her ruffled G-string.
I swallow. Hard.
The right answer would be to shove her from my lap and lecture her about how inappropriate it is for either of us to be in here, especially together, when I’m married, she’s in high school, and I’m her fucking stepfather.
But I never was much good at making the appropriate decision.
She edges the strap of her G-string down, giving me a flash of her waxed-bare pussy. “I won’t tell. As you can probably guess, I’m very good at keeping secrets.”
