Set Loose (8 page)

He drew back and carefully pulled out of her, making sure the condom didn’t fall off, and Emily lowered her feet to the floor. She stared at his chest, wondering what she’d find when she looked him in the eye, terrified he’d want to pretend none of this had ever happened.

Then the doorknob rattled as someone tried to get in.

She and Cutter looked at each other, panicked, as Stan swore on the other side of the door. They stood, barely breathing, until he walked away.

“We have to get out of here. He’ll probably be back with a key in a matter of minutes,” Cutter said, bending down to retrieve her robe. He held it for her as if he were helping her into her coat. “You go first.”

“But what about you?” she asked.

He was bare-chested, his pants down around his chiseled hips. A delectable sight, and one that brought a smile to her lips. Still, she didn’t want anyone else finding him in this state.

He looked down at himself and smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry, I’ll be dressed in two seconds,” he said, retrieving his shirt from where it hung over a cardboard box.

Unlocking the door, he stuck his head out and looked around.

“The coast is clear,” he said, grinning wolfishly at her as he held the door open just enough for her to squeeze through.

Emily stumbled into the hallway, her legs still weak and trembling. Smoothing her hair back, she pulled her robe more tightly around her and headed for the dressing room. She had to go on once more tonight, and she had a feeling she didn’t have much time to get ready.

She heard Stan whistling from around the corner and looked back, relieved to see Cutter coming out of the storage closet, his clothes once again intact. His hair was tousled and his color high, but no one would think much of that. His gaze raked her from the tip of her spiked heels on up. His eyes met hers and a slow, devastating smile spread across his face. Then turned and headed onto the floor.

She was still standing there, breathless, when Stan walked by, key in hand, and opened the closet door.

Hurrying now, she entered the dressing room and looked at the time. Twelve-thirty. She’d have to hurry to get ready. Unfortunately, Cheryl had just finished her set and was busy fixing her make-up.

“I guess there’s something between you after all,” she said, turning from the mirror and fixing Emily with a look.

“There wasn’t when we last talked about it. But yes, there is, though I don’t know what you’d call it.”

“Don’t you?” Cheryl replied, her voice tinged with bitterness.

“I’m really sorry, Cheryl. I guess I should have realized you’d be upset. It just all happened so fast…”

“Forget it.” Cheryl sighed and gave a wan smile. “I had no claim on him. I’m just surprised is all. I’ll get over it. I just hope you know how lucky you are.”

Emily’s mouth opened but she was at a loss for words.

Cheryl laughed. “Hurry up, sweetie, you’re on in ten minutes.

Relieved that Cheryl didn’t hate her, Emily pulled out the costume for her next set and took stock of her appearance. Wild hair, flushed face, swollen lips. Pretty much the look strippers strove for, only she’d come by hers honestly. Hopefully only Cheryl would know that, though.

She worked to keep herself from acting too dreamy as she got ready and made sure to stop any goofy smiles before they escaped. Other dancers filtered in and out with none of them seeming any the wiser and she wanted to keep in that way. Especially since she didn’t know what any of it meant. Would it be the first and last time she and Cutter had sex, or could she look forward to more?

She wasn’t sure how she could stand being around him if he rejected her now. It was bad enough before she knew what sort of magic he was capable of. As high as her expectations had been, he’d blown them out of the water. Just thinking about what he’d done to her made her hot all over again.

But enough speculating. She’d find out soon enough what he wanted. Right now she had to get ready for another striptease. If history was anything to go by, she could count on Cutter watching her just as avidly as he always did.

***

Cutter moved around the room, his eyes scanning the crowd but only half seeing it. How was he supposed to think of anything but Emily? He could still smell her skin, feel the wet heat of her mouth on him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he plunged into her, more out of control than he’d been since he was a teenager.

He only hoped it wasn’t a one-time deal. Now that he knew what he’d been missing, nothing on earth was going to keep him away from her if she was still willing. His cock throbbed again, threatening to come back to life. He had to take his mind off of Emily or he’d be damned uncomfortable the rest of the night.

Then Emily strode out on stage to the tune of Janis Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” and once again he was nailed to the floor, riveted on Emily and good for nothing except lusting after her. She was dressed the way a woman might have been in the late sixties - skimpy tank top and no bra, a long, filmy skirt through which you could see her legs. Her hair was loose and messy. Messy from their wild fucking, a thought that made him want to charge the stage and drag her off. She danced as if losing herself at a concert, one where everyone was shedding their clothes in an orgy of ecstasy.

Christ, she was good. Looking around, it was clear everyone else thought so, too. Part of him was proud of her dancing, her unerring sense of how to make a dance work with a particular song so that each one was an experience in and of itself. But he had to work to control the possessiveness that made him want to shield her from all those stares. He knew exactly what all those men were imagining and he hated it.

Now that he’d taken her, her striptease mocked his hold on her, made his own desire seem nothing more or better than what all the other men around him felt. But that couldn’t be right, because he liked her, wanted to look out for her. That must count for something. Not that his cock cared about subtleties of feeling. It wanted only one thing and he agreed with it.

Emily had tossed her top to the side, baring all that creamy skin, those sweet little breasts. The song changed to the Stones “Little T & A’ and her dancing took on a bawdier feel. Now she looked straight at the audience, a teasing smile on her lips as she danced and shook her tits and ass for them.

Slowly she eased her skirt over her hips and down those glorious legs.

To think he’d been inside all that hot, erotic energy. He’d die if he didn’t have her again. Tonight.

He had to grit his teeth as her set ended and men shoved money into her thong and garters, taking the opportunity to run their grubby hands over her. He tried telling himself it was her job, he’d been watching the same thing for eight months now and this was no different, but it didn’t ease the urge to kick the shit out of every guy in the place.

He was turning into a fucking cave man. He’d better learn to deal with it, or at least keep his reaction to himself. The crowd responded to her and she was probably making great money. He was glad for her, even though his stomach sank at the thought that the more money she made, the sooner she’d leave.

All the more reason not to waste the time he had.

She left the stage to enthusiastic applause and shouts, appearing five minutes later on the floor. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he worked his way around the room. Her skin shimmered in the light, and she was lightly flushed from her exertions. Just looking at her made him dizzy. When she flirted with customers he had to turn away.

She glanced up every now and then, her eyes searching him out to smile at him. A smile that both calmed him and sent his blood pumping with the thought of having her again. At two o’clock she left the floor and he followed, clocking out before heading back out to the floor where he chatted with Richie. He had the same hours as Emily the nights they worked together, but she needed a few minutes to change, and sometimes she showered.

Fifteen minutes later she appeared in a sleeveless white blouse and red skirt that seemed both innocent and intensely sexy at the same time. Kind of like Emily herself.

She looked around the room, her expression pensive, as if she thought he’d left without her. As if that were possible. A moment later she saw him by the door and she smiled. A full, delighted smile that took his breath away.

She made her way over to him and smiled again, only this time some shyness had crept in.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said as she neared, conscious of Richie watching them.

Of course, Richie was no fool, but there was no reason to be indiscreet.

“That would be great,” she said, her cheeks pinkening before she looked away.

They both said goodnight to Richie and headed out, walking along in silence. Then he took her hand in his. He hadn’t planned it, it just seemed like the natural thing to do, and he needed to touch her, to connect with her after watching her from afar.

Emily glanced up at him, her freshly scrubbed face so lovely it hurt to look at her. Still neither of them said anything as they entered the hotel, and the pleasurable tension grew until his skin was humming and every nerve ending was aware of her beside him.

They got on the elevator alone and as soon as the doors closed he pulled her to him. His lips found hers already parted, ready for him, and her hands slid around his neck, holding him close. Her sweet body pressed against his and she tasted so good he got lost in her.

Then the elevator doors opened onto the seventeenth floor and an elderly man got on. They all stood and watched their progress as the numbers above the door changed.

By the time they reached Emily’s floor Cutter had forced himself to relax. One of them had to, and it didn’t look like it was going to be her. Something had changed and now she seemed anxious, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye and smiling nervously.

He wasn’t sure what that was all about. Was she afraid he was going to open the door and take her against the wall or throw her over a table? As appealing as that was, he wasn’t going to lose control this time. He was going to take it slow and make it last, give back a little of the sensual torture she’d shown him.

***

Emily led the way down the hall to her room, her whole body vibrating with awareness. If she’d had any doubts about whether he’d be coming in, that kiss in the elevator had put them to rest. He was as ready as she was, though he didn’t seem afflicted by nerves like she was. She wanted him, God she wanted him, but the crazy adrenaline she’d been riding on earlier in the night had given way and now she was just herself, no tricks or costumes, no stripper persona.

He was right behind her as she opened the door and set her things on the table just inside. Now what? Should she saunter over to the bed like some kind of sex goddess, or take off her clothes here? Or maybe she should offer him a drink? Contrary to what she might have led him to believe, she was no good at this sort of thing. What if he ended up disappointed that she wasn’t more exciting?

She hadn’t even looked at him since they entered her room, but she could feel him right behind her, big and sexy and probably used to crazy hot sex whenever he wanted.

Fortunately, he stopped all thought when he turned her around by the shoulders and kissed her. His lips landed warm and soft on hers, grazing over hers as he let out a hum of pleasure. It was a kiss that demanded nothing, and instantly all her fears fled. Her eyes closed and she leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his chest. One big hand cupped the back of her head as the other pressed the middle of her back, holding her close while his lips continued their unhurried assault.

A little whimper rose from the back of her throat, and her tongue slipped out to trace the seam of his mouth. Immediately he deepened the kiss, his mouth opening over hers as his tongue sought hers. He was greedy but patient, his clever tongue diving deep and then retreating until she was clutching him tighter, moaning for more.

They kissed and kissed, standing in the middle of her room, his body pressed to her along her entire length. He gave just enough, making her crave more before he gave it.

The memory of him stroking inside her made her restless. For the second time that night she went to work on the buttons of his shirt. This time he let her do it herself, though he kissed her senseless all the while, distracting her until she almost forgot her purpose.

Breathless, she pushed his shirt off him and ran her hands down his chest.

“Ever thought of stripping, Cutter? The ladies would pay plenty to see you.”

She was only half-kidding. As much as she loved having him to herself, she almost felt bad that his beauty was hidden. Works of art were meant to be seen.

He let out an amused laugh. “I think I’ll leave that to you. No one would pay to see me dance.”

“I could teach you,” she said, teasing him now.

“Okay, then,” he said, his expression wicked. “Show me how you take off a shirt.”

She looked at him in surprise and then laughed. So he wanted to play, did he? She could do that. Slowly she began unbuttoning her blouse, all the while singing the bawdy tune everyone thought of when it came to stripping. Da da da dada…She flipped her hair and spun, snaking her hips down to the floor and then coming up to smile wickedly at him. Her watched her as he always did, only instead of the reluctant watchfulness she usually saw, there was only heat.

She played him a little longer, holding the blouse closed even after the buttons were all released, then showing just a shoulder. He took a step toward her and reached for her hip but she darted away, still singing as she flung the shirt across the bed. His eyes went wide when he saw she was braless. She was laughing as he came after her wearing a wolfish grin, clearly determined to catch her. She didn’t try very hard to get away and in seconds he had her cornered by the kitchenette.

She yelped as he scooped her up and dropped her on the bed. She bounced once and then he was on top of her, his big hands gripping her wrists and holding her down. Instinctively she arched against him, unable to get enough contact. She wanted to own every inch of that smooth skin, that hard, rangy muscle.