by Isabel Morin
“Go on, Emily. Don’t keep the man waiting,” Cheryl said, giving Emily a little push toward him.
Cutter let her precede him out of the room, ignoring the avid looks from the other women. Out in the hallway he urged her forward until they reached a closed door.
“In here,” he ordered, reaching around her to open the supply closet.
She looked up at him, hesitating as if she’d lost whatever nerve she’d had, but he wasn’t backing down. Finally she relented and walked inside.
He closed the door behind them and locked it.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” he asked, moving toward her until her back was against the door. But even as he asked, another part of his brain answered: Who cares?
She was still in her fuck-me heels, but even so he was a good six inches taller than her. He pushed her long, silken hair off her shoulder and smoothed his palm over her skin, unable to keep from touching her. She trembled and a pulse throbbed in her neck.
She looked up at him, her lush mouth set in a stubborn pout, her eyes defiant and uncertain. “Maybe I wanted you to see what you were missing.”
“You’re killing me, Emily,” he said, his voice coming out rough and desperate.
But he was done talking, done caring about the fallout. He wanted her now.
His mouth slanted down over hers, the first taste of her nearly bringing him to his knees. She opened for him immediately, her whimper of need driving him even more insane. Kissing her was like drinking from a well in the desert, and he couldn’t stop. Her lips were soft, her mouth tasting faintly of red wine, and he dove into her again and again, his tongue dancing with hers, insistent and demanding.
She molded herself to him without hesitation, her robe falling open so that he could feel the heat of her bare breasts and thighs. He pressed himself to her, letting her feel his full arousal, driving himself crazy. Her hands ran over him, restlessly touching everywhere, sliding under his shirt where her nails dug into him, urging him on.
He was so far gone, all he could think about was pulling his cock out and driving into her, making her call his name, feeling her tight heat around him. The need was so desperate and real he pulled back, closing his eyes as he tried to gain some semblance of control.
Chapter Five
Emily’s eyes drifted open and she looked dazedly at Cutter, still in her arms but now pulled slightly back, his face tense with need and restraint.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice coming out husky and full of naked desire.
She no longer cared.
“I’m trying not to act like a damn animal.”
“Maybe I want you to,” you said, her fingernails raking his back, pulling him to her, offering herself to him without reservation.
It was as if she’d raised the door of a cage. His eyes darkened and he looked at her for the space of a heartbeat. Then his mouth took hers again, his tongue filling her, demanding everything she had. Her legs trembled and her clit swelled and throbbed, the thin strip of her thong abrading her into a near frenzy.
A moment later she felt his hands at her shoulders and then the silken whisper as her robe pooled at her feet. He groaned her name, his voice low and rough as his hands cupped her breasts, toying with the tight buds. His hands were big and calloused, a workingman’s hands, and they roamed over every inch of her feverish skin. His breath was ragged as he ran a hand over her hip to her thigh, sliding his fingers beneath the tight band of her garter.
She needed to feel him. Her fingers trembled as they worked at the buttons of his shirt, slowing her down until she groaned in frustration. Cutter let out a husky laugh and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. She rested her palms on his chest, holding him still so that she could look her fill.
The only light came from the neon signs outside the high window, but even so she could see the contours of his muscles. His chest was smooth and perfectly defined, an artist’s rendering of what a man should be. Needing to explore him, to make him hers, she ran her hands over his chest and stomach, lingering on the fine ridges of muscle above his pants. Bolder now, she pressed her hand against the huge bulge straining against his zipper, smiling with satisfaction at his pained groan.
But even that wasn’t enough. She was aching for him, hollow with need as she worked franticly to get her hands on him. She listened to the delicious sound of his labored breathing as she released his huge erection, running her hand up and down in pure feminine approval. He tried to press her back against the wall, but she eluded him, dropping to the floor to take him in her mouth.
Never had she felt so carnal, so desperate to take everything a man had to offer, to give him every kind of pleasure. She knelt on her robe and took him into her mouth, the tension in him nearly singing as she sucked him.
His hands went rigid in her hair as she played with him, using her hand in time with her mouth. As powerful and in control as he usually was, she made him tremble and pant her name right alongside God’s. Her own excitement rose alongside his, everything in her alive to his warm skin and thrashing pulse.
Then he pulled her up, his hands fisting in her hair as he tipped her head back to receive his desperate, almost painful kiss. His hand covered her pussy, pulling a long moan out of her. She clutched his arms to keep from melting to the floor as one strong finger slipped beneath her thong and stroked until she was writhing against him. His mouth left hers to close over a nipple, sucking and lightly biting as his fingers slid into her, again and again.
“You’re so wet,” he groaned, his voice raw.
“Please, Cutter,” she said, nearly sobbing with need.
He leaned his forehead against hers as his breath heaved in and out. “I don’t have any protection.”
“It’s a strip club,” Emily said, half crazed with desperation. “There have to be condoms somewhere. What about the men’s bathroom?”
“Right. Wait here while I –”
“Cutter, look behind you,” she said, pointing to a box on the shelf behind him. It was a supply closet after all, and they now had at their disposal the biggest box of condoms she’d ever laid eyes on.
“Praise Jesus,” he breathed, pulling the box down.
He took a packet out and ripped it with his teeth while Emily stroked him, desperate to get him inside her.
He sheathed himself and then his hands were under her ass, easily lifting her up and pressing her back against the wall.
“You want this, Emily?” he asked, his expression fierce, his face taut as he held himself in check.
“God, yes,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist and gripping his shoulders.
Without another word he pulled her thong aside, entering her in one tortuously slow stroke. Her head fell back and she arched in pure ecstasy, taking him in as deep as he’d go.
“You feel amazing. So tight,” he said, his praise given between ragged breaths.
Her fingers dug deeper into his shoulders with each powerful thrust as he drove into her, hitting her sweet spot until she could hardly bear it. He filled her exquisitely, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until she was sobbing with need.
“You want to come, baby?” he asked.
Wordlessly she nodded, too far gone for speech, the feel of him between her splayed legs beyond anything she’d ever known.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered in her ear, his voice a dark seduction.
She looked at him uncertainly.
“Go on, show me how you do it.
He watched as she took one hand from his shoulder and brought it between them to stroke her painfully throbbing clit. He stayed with her, keeping her pace, thrusting in time with her rhythm until she didn’t know where he ended and she began. They were just bodies coming together as if they’d been made for each other, their skin slick with sweat.
Sensation built until it was nearly unbearable, her thoughts narrowing to the vortex of pleasure pulling her under. She hovered on the peak
for endless seconds and then broke around him with such violence he had to hold her to him. She was still drifting back down when he spread her legs wider and thrust home, burying his face in her neck as his cock pulsed inside her and his big body shook in release.
Her eyes were still closed, her body boneless, but Cutter had hold of her. His face was still buried in her neck, his cock still inside her. Their hearts beat almost in time, slowing down as the seconds passed. She wanted just a few more minutes breathing in the glorious scents of sex and sweat, a musky combination that should have been indecent. A few more minutes of this intimate, hard-won knowledge of how he felt and looked and sounded.
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.
