Stripped (3 page)

Chapter Four

Stone

Evil-brain dick sends telepathic messages

She’s still here. The girl with the dark eyes. From the moment I stepped out here on stage I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I kept thinking she might disappear. I’m going with the wildcard guess that Foreplay isn’t her kind of thing…

So, I know I shouldn’t do what I’m thinking.

Too bad the dragon below has other ideas.

If I were smart, I’d let that thought sink in and follow my own advice.

But the overdrive gear-shifter in my pants has set my brain to cruise control and is running the show.

It’s like all the intelligence I possess is seemingly being transferred to the brain between my legs as it strives to become its own thinking machine, usurping the system it belongs to in an evil-robot-takes-over-the-world sort of way.

When the music stops at the end of my performance, I watch as her gaze climbs up my body, only to stop when she reaches my own stare.

Just that one look and
those eyes
—all the wind is knocked out of me!

Evil robot gains more control. My dick grows hard and my stomach twists with desire.

I hold her gorgeous baby browns while I argue with myself. I should target a different woman in the audience—one who didn’t have a wanker of an ex-boyfriend mess her up recently.

Most women walk through these doors to experience some sexual freedom, but… I’m not so sure about Anne.

Definitely Anne.
Evil brain robot dick apparently sends telepathic messages.
You’d really be helping her out.

If I could’ve gotten more information from her friend…

She’s still holding my eyes.

I sift through the mental files:
ex-douchebag, darkest time of her life.

She’ll have fun either way,
evil-brain dick assures me.
That’s why she’s here tonight.
Just don’t take things too far.

She did come here, to Foreplay. I have to agree with evil-brain dick on that.

She paid to see me behave badly. I think it’s time to give her her money’s worth.

The lights go black. Thompson comes up with the towel and my shirt. Fast, I swipe away the excess moisture from my torso and force my arms into the long sleeved white button-up. I leave the black bowtie undone to fall around my neck. A few seconds later, the first chords of Jason Derulo’s “Talk Dirty to Me” pumps through the room as the bright white spotlight hits me.

I drink in the screams like a vampire drinks blood. With greedy abandon.

Anne is my target.

I always hit my target.

I let the music pump me up with adrenaline. With ease, I drop from the stage to the main floor. I flex my arms, fold them behind my head and pump my hips to the beat of the song. After throwing in some footwork and sexy grooves, I use a couple of chairs as steps and climb onto a few different tables to give the ladies their own VIP display. They grope my legs, squeeze my ass, and a few even get close enough to swipe their tongues across my abs as they squeal in delight.

My target stares on while biting her lip in a bad way— not in a tarty come-fuck-me way but a deep in thought way—she looks disappointed.

I can play that card.

Gripping the forearm of a woman whose hands are all over me, I pull her onto the table and fall to my back, bringing her down on top of me. Guiding her body, I get her bum over my dick so she’s sitting on me while facing the opposite direction, and I piston my hips. Her body bounces and shakes as she throws her head back, laughing, enjoying it as the audience erupts.

How’s Anne
with this?

I search out those eyes. Ahh, pretty baby seems disgruntled. I like it.

Maybe jealous. Like it even better.

I can remedy that.

I maneuver myself out from under my present situation, leap off the table, get a running start, and slide on my knees dramatically across the floor until I’m before her, worshipping her from my knees.

First I take her hand in mine and kiss the inside of her wrist. Then, rolling my hips in a slow deliberate motion, I fuck her with my eyes while leisurely peeling the shirt from my shoulders.

Her frustrated lip-nibbling ceases as her pretty mouth curves into an unwilling grin.

I’ve got her.

My objective: make her feel like the only girl in the room.

So maybe the evil-brain dick isn’t so evil after all.

Maybe.

Without the use of my hands, I seamlessly rise to my feet before pulling her sweet form against me.

“You’re never going to bloody forget me,” I breathe into the tender curve of her ear.

Lifting her against my chest, I wrap her shapely legs around my waist and carry her directly to the stage—which, incidentally, has been changed to a new dry platform.

My cock rises to the happy occasion by greeting the feel of her soft pussy.

I firmly grasp her outer thighs so I can circle her sweet center against my bulge. The not-so-innocent dance action is sure to make
Anne positively beg for more.

Purring against her lips, I coo, “Forget the rest of the world, Sunshine. It’s just you and me up here.”

Bending my knees and flexing my arse and quads, I roll my hips into her, giving her a taste of what I would do to her if we had our clothes off and I were actually fucking her.

And Christ, what I’d do to get that skimpy layer of cloth that protects her from me
off
!

Her nipples are pebbling and rubbing against my bare chest.

I’ve got to see them. I jack her back and capture her tender throat in the curve of my hand.

Her dark eyes fall closed as her head tilts back to give me full access. I stroke my fingertips down the softest part of her neck, until all five fingertips sit poised on her collarbone. Gently, but demandingly, I press her away so her back has no choice but to arch and her tits mound and raise.

Jesus, I have to touch them.

I sweep a cascading hand down the center of her chest to her belly. Teasing.

When she goes breathless and doesn’t struggle, I graze my hand back up so that this time I enjoy the sensation of her spectacular mound beneath my palm. I make sure my thumb gives her nipple an extra graze.

The crowd is wild, but the din fades into the music. There is nothing but her and me.

I desperately want to suck one of her sweet tits into my mouth.

But because I obviously
can’t—
with my own perturbed frustration that we’re really
not
alone—I slide my supportive hand up her spine to bring her close again.

Her eyes open and take mine, and she brings her soft hands trailing, tickling tentatively down the grooves and muscles of my arms as if she’s reaching out to explore something forbidden.

In that moment I lose myself and evil-brain dick gains complete control.

“Baby, you’re so fucking hot,” I manage in a throaty voice.

I’ve got to do something fast, ’cause she’s just turned the tables. I feel like I’m going to come, and I haven’t even gotten my pants off.

Oh fuck! I’ve got to get my pants off!

I lay my prima ballerina on the floor and press myself over top of her as I slide my body between her silky spread legs.

“You’re perfection,” I breathe, and she really is.

I kneel back and make a show of pulling at the button and zipper of my jeans.

My rock hard—evil brain—dick is throbbing, and the vein is aching as I release the bulge from the grip of the denim to reveal to the audience the second-skin, black Emporio Armani briefs that are a size too tight to properly accommodate the length and girth of my shaft.

Anne’s gorgeous eyes widen in an expression that is somewhere between lust and terror. Is lusty-terror a thing?

Not like I can actually penetrate her with it right here, anyway… … …

No! Stop it
.

Falling back over her body, I catch myself with my arms at the last moment before crashing into her and work myself in a series of gyrating push-ups.

The women in the crowd are wild imagining they’re her.

I’m wild imagining I’m
alone
with her!

I’ve worked at Foreplay for the last three months. I’ve brought countless beautiful, underdressed women up here for a good time—a couple I’ve even taken to a hotel after the show… so what is making this one feel so different?

I take a moment to appreciate her throat again—I’d love to stick my tongue down it.

And me.
Evil-brain dick puts that visual in my head, and now I’m really a goner.

Swiping my tongue and lips against the delicate skin, I climb to her ear. Hmm, she tastes sweet and gives off the scent of jasmine.

“If your neck tastes this good, I can only imagine how incredible your pussy must taste.”

She moans at my pronouncement. This is my confirmation to continue my present course.

“Stay,” I command and hop up to my feet. I shove the jeans to my knees and shuck them sexily—an enormous feat, considering they’re drenched from my first number and my cock is about to fucking explode.

After the
big
reveal, I glide down her as if I’m positioning myself to take a taste of her forbidden apple and scoop myself a handful of Anne’s arse cheek.

“You’ve got a fine arse.” I give her flesh a good squeeze and a stinging slap.

Her hips rise, searching for friction, and I’m more than willing to give it.

I slide my abs and chest smoothly over her soaked center, which I’m dying to steal a lick of.

“Baby, it’s heaven between your legs.” I wonder how much wetness I’ve created and how much my jeans caused. It’s easy to imagine it was all me. My ego and dick are big in that way too. Performing a hybrid push-up, I flex my arms while dragging my lower body over hers, rolling and rotating my hips seductively, provocatively, tempting her to come higher with me. It’s an erotic, smutty, and carnal display—and I’m wishing there was a mirror here so I could be watching the two of us going at it!

“You’re gonna make my dick burst,” I confess, growling with my own raw need and desire.

That’s when her back arches. Her pretty head falls back, her long dark hair flowing to the floor, and her thighs tighten.

In a moment, her entire body quakes, a look of ecstasy crossing her features.

OH FUCK!
She’s orgasming!

I so didn’t mean to do that… but it’s fucking gorgeous. I move quickly in attempt to shield her from the house’s view.

Too late.

The audience detonates, and their cumulative cheer is meteoric.

As the final tremors ripple through her being, Anne’s eyes grow wide as saucers, horrified at our public display.

Nothing like this has ever happened before. Now I’ve suddenly got an angel and a devil on each shoulder and they’re speaking to me at the same time.

The foul mouthed, un-angelic angel quips in my ear,
“Arse-hole now ya’ went off and did it! How ya’ gonna fix this one?”
Oddly, she sounds just like Glenda.

The horny devil, on the other hand, sounds very much as if he’s speaking through the throbbing magical microphone between my legs.
“God, we’ve got to finish this.”

He wins.

“Meet me in my dressing room.” The words come spilling out with no couth filter.

“ASSHOLE!” She slams her hands against my chest.

“
Told ya!”
The angel grimaces and shakes her head in disgust.

As I roll away from Anne, she jumps up and runs offstage. Mobiles are snapping photos and recording while women are hurling dollar bills at me, vying to get me to their table and do the same thing to them. I figure the only way to salvage the situation that’s literally gone all tits up is to keep moving and make it look like it’s all part of the show.

But as Anne
escapes through the hallway that leads to the front entrance, with her friend close behind, I know there is no way to truly fix what happened. At most, I may be able to distract the attention away from her.

Fuck, fuck… FUCK!

The music can’t end fast enough. I retreat backstage, and the first person in my face is Jay.

“Way to tap that shit, man!” he jeers, or compliments—I don’t care which.

It’s the expression,
that shit,
that gets me. I let loose a solid right hook against his jaw. He falls over, but I right him and shove his back hard against the wall. “Shut the fuck up!”

He lifts his hands in a no-threat gesture. “Chill, man.”

I’m not going to stand here and waste time on the wanker.

I bolt to the parking lot in nothing but my undies, praying she’ll still be here—maybe sitting in her car cursing my name.