by Chloe Cole
“I don’t have big career aspirations,” she said, sucking on the last of her second iced tea. “I’m happy to be able to pay the bills and have time for my hobbies.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Well, I like to swim. I have a gym membership and I take all the classes. Cardio dance, aerobics, spinning.”
“I could use some of your training.” His sexy mouth quirked. “You must be really…flexible.”
“Yeah, I am.” It took a second for her to realize he was coming on to her. “Plus I travel all over the world. My parents live in Omaha and we usually take trips together once or twice a year. I’ve been to thirty-two countries and counting. You should see my scrapbooks.”
“That would be really nice. You should invite me over.”
“To my place?” About to say no, she remembered her roommate had gone out of town. “Sure, why not? How about tonight?”
Once again that shifty expression slid over his face. What the hell? Maybe she needed to skip the pleasantries and get down to business.
“Ever been to that club before?” Shane asked, just as she opened her mouth yet again and inserted her chunky wedge heel.
“Do you like blowjobs?”
His eyebrows practically disappeared under the dark fringe at his hairline. He edged forward and licked his perfectly kissable mouth. “Did you just ask me if I like blowjobs?” he asked in a low voice. “I swear that’s what it sounded like.”
“Yes.” She folded her hands in front of her and met his gaze head-on. “I haven’t given nearly enough of them but I’d like to practice.”
Instead of rubbing her thigh or maybe playing footsie—though with his steel-toed boots she wasn’t sure that could work—he rested his head against the back of his seat and laughed. Just laughed. “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m not being funny. I’m serious. I’d like to give you a blowjob.” Preferably before this weak-assed buzz wears off…
Unfortunately the waitress picked that moment to arrive with two platters of appetizers. She set down their nachos with extra jalapeños and plate of mozzarella sticks before asking if they needed anything else. Both shook their heads.
When he still didn't respond, Emma shrugged and reached for a mozz stick. No reason to waste good food. She dipped it in marinara sauce and took a big bite, drawing the cheese out from between her lips. “Ouch. Hot, hot!”
She grabbed her empty iced tea and realized she’d forgotten to ask the server for more. Desperate, she tipped the glass back to try to get a little liquid and got her wish of flashing him tight nipple when ice cubes tumbled down her shirt.
He snatched the sheaf of extra napkins and leaned toward her, hurriedly patting her chest as she sucked on the one measly ice chip she’d managed to get in her mouth. Their gazes collided when his knuckles brushed one of those taut tips she’d been so eager to show off.
“Sorry,” he muttered, recoiling as if she’d bent down and bit him.
Apparently talk of blowjobs and hard nipples didn't turn him on. Check. So what was left? She sifted through her mental file of bass fishing tips then shelved them as a last resort.
“No problem.” She knew she was blushing but kept right on eating her molten mozzarella stick while he shoved a loaded nacho in his mouth.
After they’d demolished most of the food, he propped a forearm on the table and signaled for the waitress. He ordered a beer then proceeded to drink approximately two sips before he incinerated her sturdy panties with his piercing gaze.
“How often do you go to the club?”
Man, he had a thing for Strippendales. Emma fished out an ice cube and rubbed it over her burnt lip. Sore lip, raw tongue…maybe this wasn’t the right night to pursue wild sex. Not that it looked like she'd be getting any. “What’s the big deal?”
“No deal.” He shrugged. “Just wondering if maybe you get off on the mystique more than the man.”
“Mystique of what? That you take off your clothes for money?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, big mystique. Next week I’ll start chasing rock stars and hanging out in the back of tour buses.”
“Don’t think you’ll be very popular without that blowjob practice.”
Jerk. She reached for her purse and withdrew her wallet. “Another dream crushed.”
“I’ll pay.”
“No, I’ve got it.” She gave him a quick smile. “I can live without the mystique of a guy paying for my meal too.”
“I said I’ve got it. I insulted you, though that wasn’t my intention. Let me make it up to you by grabbing the bill,” he said quietly, his expressive eyes entirely too alluring. She couldn’t think clearly when he looked at her like that.
Wasn’t that what she wanted? To be hot and boneless and driven crazy with desire? Yes indeedy, she did. Maybe she should let him make up for his rude and fickle behavior in a much more meaningful way than by paying for some appetizers.
“I’ll make you a deal, Shane.” She licked her lips and wished she’d glossed them after leaving the club. “Easy peasy one, too. I let you pay the bill. You let me—”
“No.” Breathing hard, he placed his hand over hers on the table, his palm large, rough and oh so warm. “No blowjobs.”
She smiled despite herself. “I wanted to ask if you’d let me give you a stripping lesson.”
He reached up to run a fingertip around his collar. “What?”
Emma leaned forward until their faces were close. Very close. “I want to teach you how to strip properly,” she said in her most seductive whisper. “What do you say, Stripper Shane?”
Chapter Three
Dear God, how had he ended up here?
Shane sat on the couch in his small studio with his knees pressed together, his gaze bouncing back and forth between his entertainment and the ceiling. Though he tried, he couldn’t feign disinterest in the scene unfolding in front of him. On the contrary, his granite-hard cock could provide Maureen with plenty to hold on to if she really wanted to swing around and flash some ass.
Anytime now he'd go up like a torch. The stifling heat of the apartment didn’t help but his sudden internal fever had been caused mainly by the hot as hell woman shimmying and shaking a few feet away. That she wore blah clothes and clunky shoes only added a certain charm.
“Shane,” she said breathlessly. “Are you paying attention? Your eyes aren’t focused.”
“I’m halfway cross-eyed.”
She laughed and pushed a hand through her tangled curls. “Only halfway?”
“I’m immune to provocation.” His eyebrow winged up as she glanced deliberately at his lap. “Trust me, any other guy would be unconscious by now.”
“You’re just being nice.” She adjusted her top, allowing him to see her peaked nipples. Fuck, was she even making herself aroused? He couldn’t blame her. Christ, he hoped her pussy was wet. It wouldn’t be fair if he suffered alone.
Not that all this suffering would lead anywhere. Even if she’d said things that made him wonder if he’d found the right woman, failure was not an option. She had to be Maureen Shawcross and he’d have to jerk off in the shower the minute she went home to Connor. Or her harem of escort boys.
A private club he’d clearly never be asked to join.
Unless she intended to ask him for a private audition once she’d finished her routine. If so, he couldn’t refuse, and not because his balls were as sore as if they’d been massaged with burning coals. He had to see this job through to the bitter end—
Liar. You just want in her sexy, lush body. Whatever it takes. Whatever the cost.
“You think you’re cross-eyed? I want to run out that door and never come back. But I promised you a lesson.”
“Run out the door? Why?”
With a rueful smile, she held up her hands. Both palms were damp. “Strippers aren’t supposed to be nervous.”
Oddly endeared, Shane extended his socked foot to stroke the inside of her ankle. Even that much bare flesh made him long to see
the rest. “I almost threw up before my sets.”
“Really? You weren’t that awkward. Well, a little. Like you didn’t care that you sucked.”
He laughed at her sudden frown, almost as if she’d just realized what she said. “I think you owe me more skin for that one.”
Without flinching, she gripped a handful of her skirt and pulled it higher, revealing a trim calf and a hint of knee. “Better?”
To distract himself from wrestling her to the floor, Shane reached over and turned up the volume on the stereo beside the couch. He’d never more appreciated the tight quarters of his apartment than he did tonight. He seriously didn’t think he could stand up and walk across the room right now. Not with this hard-on.
“Not nearly enough.” Once he’d found an appropriate stripping song, he lifted his brows and sat back. “Show me what you’ve got.”
She flushed but she didn’t balk. How could she? The stripping lesson had been her idea. As had been the blowjob he wanted desperately right about now.
“I love this song.” She rotated her hips and tugged up more of her skirt. He tensed as she revealed more of her toned thighs—and what thighs they were—then she stopped and pursed her lips.
What now?
Changing directions, she dropped her skirt and instead grasped the hem of her shirt, tugging up just enough to show off a bit of her soft belly. He nearly groaned. While he stared, she revealed the round swells of her breasts hidden by the least provocative bra he'd ever seen. He almost lost it right there.
“Jesus,” he muttered, unable to check his language. He needed her to keep going. Keep moving those hips, keep showing him her breasts. Innocent white cotton had never turned him on more.
She stopped again, expression conflicted. He was about to hold out a hand to her when she wrenched off her top, tossing the silky fabric aside. Her skirt came next. Before he could blink, she cast aside her panties, leaving her pussy bare and on display.
Pretty. So damn pretty, with a scant ruffle of brown curls guarding the heat between her legs. He wanted to taste her. Lap up the juice he hoped clung to her dark pink lips.
But he didn’t. Heart hammering, Shane dragged his gaze up to hers and saw the longing radiating in her eyes. “You didn’t mention anything about a naked striptease.”
She offered him a tentative smile. “I’d rather show you all of me than my underwear.”
He tried not to laugh. He really did. But she made him so borderline giddy he couldn't help it. “You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever met.”
Even so, she wasn’t available. Even if she tipped her hips up in the sultriest imitation of slow fucking he’d ever seen, he had to maintain his distance.
Stop it. Can’t happen. Reboot.
“Does that mean you’re rethinking that blowjob?”
Her smile turned sly as she toyed with the little rose between the cups of her bra. He’d never seen one quite that industrial-looking before but the cleavage it contained made up for any design shortcomings. The rest of her body blew his mind too. God, what he wouldn't give to have her wrapped around him all night long.
So much for trying to talk himself out of having sex with her. Shit, he didn’t have to go that far. He’d happily settle for those plump, slick lips sliding up and down his rigid length until he came inside that gorgeous mouth.
Would she let him do that? Probably not, considering she’d said she hadn’t given a lot of BJs. But this little striptease confirmed she had a naughty side he’d guess she didn’t unleash too often.
While she danced, she rubbed her hands up and down her firm torso, sliding them underneath her breasts to cup them while she swiveled her hips. She was absolutely killing this striptease. His expectations—and his resistance—shot straight to hell.
He didn’t know what kind of woman she was. His loss. He wouldn’t get a chance to peel back all her very interesting layers to touch the soft pussy beneath—uh, soft woman—because he had only one interest in her.
Sex. Hot, sweaty, life-changing sex. Right here on his couch. The floor. The damn coffee table.
“You look a little warm.” Her tongue curled over her upper lip. “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”
He groaned as she extended her arms toward the ceiling and swayed, her body moving sinuously to the beat. She definitely made the most of what she had to work with. Those perfect handful breasts, the ultimate in eye candy. Those supple legs, divinely created to wrap around a man’s waist. Her full hips, fodder for a dozen fantasies.
But fantasies were one thing. This was reality. And the chances of him walking away dwindled by the second.
When she turned to wiggle her ass, the constellation of freckles exploding on the small of her back sparked visions of licking her from the top of her spine to the soles of her feet. He’d inhale deep breaths of her cool, sublime perfume, drown in her sighs, lose himself in all those soft, welcoming curves.
She crouched down and rocked, heart-shaped butt flexing. Deft fingers undid the back clasp of her bra and then the fabric hung free, daring him with what he knew lurked just beneath. She still didn’t turn around. Instead she flirtatiously pulled down the straps, her dark coils of hair skimming her creamy skin as she spared him a look over her shoulder.
“Wanna see more?”
He couldn’t speak. He struggled to lower his zipper, to get some room for his painful erection. She took no mercy on him. Her bra sailed through the air, landing on his knee. He reached for the damp material and brought it to his nose, drawing in giant lungfuls of her scent. She smelled as cool as a breeze, as hot as a woman who ached to be fucked. The combination grabbed him around the balls, twisting relentlessly.
As if she’d gone into slow motion, she swiveled on her heels to face him. Her hair tumbled into her seductive eyes and she'd bitten her lower lip until it swelled. She drifted her hands up her torso, cupping her bare breasts. Caressing them. Her nipples were large and rosy, her skin flushed with arousal. But nerves quivered in the shaky breath she let out when he didn’t reply.
“You don’t like it,” she said, dropping her arms to her sides. Apparently she’d missed his gaping fly. She covered herself halfheartedly. “I hoped enthusiasm would make up for my lack of—”
“Get over here,” he said through gritted teeth, taking in her widened eyes. “And if you ever, ever hide yourself from me again, I’ll—” He broke off when she stepped forward and bumped his legs.
“What?”
Inspiration made him grin. “I’ll make you watch me strip.”
Her warm laughter bubbled across his skin, releasing some of the tension. “I liked watching you. You have certain undeniable attributes.” She paused as he released one of them from his jeans and boxers, revealing exactly how hard she’d made him. “Oh my God, wow,” she breathed.
He had to laugh. “You were saying?”
“Why did I spend eight months with Ted?” she wailed, making his chuckle deepen.
Ted, not Connor. Shane knew he should ask questions, should pursue this niggle that all was not what it seemed. But she had proven more irresistible than he'd anticipated.
If this was his client’s fiancée, his career might end before it had really even begun. As for morals? He clearly had none. But if he could be wrong about her identity, he wouldn’t turn away.
He couldn't.
One simple question would end this now. Who are you? But he didn't ask, fearing the answer would leave him alone in his bed tonight.
He hadn’t connected with anyone like this in so long, he’d almost forgotten what it was to want. To crave with every fiber of his being. Need clawed inside him like a wild beast and only one woman could sate it. Her.
He had to let this play out. He had no damn choice anymore.
“Who’s Ted?” he forced out, stroking his cock more for her obvious enjoyment than his own. He didn’t want to be touching himself. He wanted her hands on him. Her mouth. Every centimeter of that glorious body.
/> “My ex.” She swallowed, hard. “He wasn’t built. Plus he, um, liked fish better than sex.”
“Fish,” he repeated, figuring he’d misheard.
“Yeah, the kind you catch. He was better at that than…Shane,” she whispered urgently, her entire focus what he gripped in his fist. “I really want to give you a blowjob.”
She crouched before him and tentatively slid her hand up his length, increasing the pressure when he shuddered. Such a gentle, feminine touch. Her green tea and honey scent wafted over him as she lowered her head, not making eye contact while she licked him. The flicks of her tongue were artless, almost clumsy. Despite her eagerness, he got the distinct impression she felt uncomfortable.
Though he wasn’t normally overly dominant in the bedroom, he wanted her concentrating only on pleasure. Giving it. Receiving it. Over and over again.
“Hey,” he murmured, slipping his fingers through her hair. “Look at me,” he said, using his fingertips to direct her head toward his cock. “And don’t think.”
“Oh, well, I can’t help—”
“Suck my cock,” he ordered, holding her gaze when she blushed.
She did as he asked, wrapping her hand around his length and drawing it to her parted lips. Her tongue snaked out again, lapping at the moisture, pressing down at his quick inhalation. She explored the head of his cock thoroughly, sealing her lips around him and sucking lightly, her gaze remaining on his. Seducing him without words.
When his palms cupped her head, she got to work, taking more of him in her mouth while her tongue rolled up and down his length. She coaxed him deeper, inviting him in with hesitant sweeps of tongue and the promise in her summer green eyes.
His muscles tensed and he rolled his hips up to offer more of himself. To demand she take. Hunger consumed him, his balls clenching with anticipation. Damn, she learned fast. Between her long pulls and her heated expression, he already neared one hell of an orgasm.
It had been awhile. Months, at least. The past year had been all about the fallout from leaving the force and the stress of setting up his own firm. Sex hadn’t been on his radar. Love and all its accompanying drama, definitely not. But it had been easy to turn his back on something that had never made him feel this good before.
