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Something is wrong.I’ve been working in my office for hours when the atmosphere shifts.

I own the only gym in Courage County. It’s typically filled with the sound of loud, boisterous laughter and friendly competition. But right now, no basketballs are bouncing on the floors. There are no grunts as my regulars trade punches in the ring.

Instead, there’s a new sound. It’s a slow, sensual beat. After a moment, I recognize it as a pop song from the radio. It’s not exactly the type of music that’s played here.

Frowning, I get up from my seat and move across the room to the big window. I flip a switch and watch as the blinds for the tinted window slowly rise. What I see next nearly makes me swallow my tongue.

For the first time in the gym’s history, there’s a steel pole in the middle of the floor and a woman dancing around it. She’s scantily clad and gyrating to the beat. As she works her body, she calls out instructions to her audience which consists of half a dozen other women. Most of them are also scantily clad, but one in particular catches my eye.

Ivy Jones.

She works at a shop in town called Sinful Desserts. It’s aptly named given the fact that every time I go in there, my thoughts are filthy images of the things I want to do to her curvy body.

Today, Ivy is wearing a sheer beach cover-up. It does nothing to hide the sea-green swimsuit that clings to her large breasts and keeps her pink pussy from my curious gaze.

Someone in the crowd hoots at the instructor’s dance, and I realize that other men can see her. Other men can see my beautiful virgin. My fingers curl into a fist and my heart pounds as the edges of my vision turn red. They’re seeing what’s mine.

Sure, Ivy doesn’t know she’s mine yet, but I can’t stand here knowing these fuckers are staring at my treasure. My sweet girl doesn’t even notice the way the men in the room are drooling over those delectable curves.

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to run over there and throw her over my shoulder. I’d storm back into my office and bend her over my desk. I’d spank her cute round cheeks until they’re pink, and she’s squirming for relief. Then I’d slide nine deep into her perfect wet channel. I’d make it so damn good for her.

Since doing that would probably alarm my girl, I settle on pressing the button on my desk and demanding Susie come to me immediately.

Susie is the community manager here at the gym. I found her sleeping in the women’s locker room this past winter. I gave her a job and got her set up with an apartment in town.

“What can I do?” Susie asks the moment she’s in my office. She’s always eager to please.

Normally, I like that about her. But today, I’m barely holding myself together. If Michael looks at Ivy one more time, his balls will end up on his wallet chain.

“Why the hell does it look like my gym has become a fucking strip joint?” I’ve never been one of those polished CEOs with the perfect words for every occasion.

Susie hesitates. “I mentioned last month that a citizen wanted to use the gym’s facilities for a class. This was the class.”

That sounds vaguely familiar. Still, it didn’t have to be held during lunch hour when every horny, single male in town is in attendance.

“Send them away,” I grit out the words as one man nudges Michael and the two of them exchange a hissed conversation and gesture toward Ivy’s tits. Those are just for me. No one else should get to appreciate them.

“It’s a pole dancing class. They promised they’ll keep their clothes on,” Susie protests.

“Not them. Get the men out of here. Right now.” Before I go and murder all of them for breathing the same air as my girl.

* * *


I watchMackenzie trying to do some type of move in her cute little stilettos, but she doesn’t execute it properly. Instead, my friend Ginger grabs her upper arm. Somehow, the two of them manage to stay upright, giggling the entire time.

I never thought I’d be taking a pole dancing class, but when Ginger wanted to create one, I showed up to support her. Both Mackenzie and I are here for her. The other women are here to get some exercise in or to impress their husbands.

“It’s your turn,” Mackenzie says to me. I’m the only one who hasn’t tried out these moves. It’s not that I’m afraid to. After all, the gym is now filled with only women.

Except for him.

Hale Evans.

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