When he put his arm around me, I flinched and repositioned myself closer to the edge of the bed. “Come on, Gem.” He sighed. “I’m not that bad.”
“I’m not a cuddler.” I pulled my pillow over, like I drew a line in the sand.
Even in the dark, I could see Bret’s frown. “Remind me why anyone dates you again,” he said.
“I could quote someone famous and say it’s because I’m smart, funny, and have amazing tits.” I laughed, but the sounded faded quickly, as if it bounced off of Bret’s disappointment. He was actually making me feel bad. “And we’re not dating.”
“I know that.” He may have inched closer. “But anything goes here. That was the deal. No limits.”
We’d cranked the AC, and eventually I was going to need the blanket or some body heat. My current chill had nothing to do with the temperature.
That was his deal. I only agreed to this trip because I wanted that money. The deeper we got into this, the more conflicted I became. I’d give my kingdom for another bed right now. Or for another room. Or for any sort of clear boundary. He’d pushed me far past my limits. The worst part was I wanted more.
“My head understands that, but sometimes my heart gets confused.”
“Mine too,” he said softly.
I lifted my head and stared at his silhouette, not believing I heard him right.
He took advantage of my shock to pull me into his body. I landed with my head on his chest. His heart thumped wildly, like my own, as he wrapped his arms around me. “Pretend I’m someone else if you need to, Gemma. Just give me tonight.”
I couldn’t say no to that. Even if I wanted to.
Chapter Eighteen
I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t unusual. I lay awake many nights, wondering how I’d get the bill collectors to stop calling me, or if I was going to get into grad school. This project I’d been working on with Mom would go a long way to getting the attention of the admissions committee at Ithaca. If I blew my credit to absolute shit, like I was doing by ignoring my bills, I’d never be approved for more loans.
I wanted to feel safe in Bret’s arms, but this was a lie, too. As much as I wanted to pretend it was something it wasn’t, it would just set me up for a bigger fall. We had two weeks before we needed to give the lawyer an answer. I wasn’t a big enough fool to think this could continue, even if I was a fool to want it to.
Bret’s breathing slowed as he fell into a deep sleep, pulling me tight against his chest. I tried to relax into the rhythm of his heartbeat but I couldn’t slow my mind. On top of the usual crap that danced in my head after midnight like a bunch of rowdy rave kids, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d come here to do.
The sun burned the outline of the blackout curtains. In a few hours, I was going to take my clothes off in a room full of strangers. Bret accepted that was my fantasy without asking why, because he did this type of thing all the time. Now, as I lay here wondering what the hell was I thinking, I had to find the answers for myself. Yeah, on the surface I was doing it for the money, like all girls say they do, when asked why they strip. But if I didn’t need the money, would I still want that? To put myself out there and be the center of the universe, even if only for five minutes? To be able to turn someone on without touching them? Kick start their fantasies into overdrive?
Yes. That was why I wanted to do this. I wanted to feel sexy and desired, and make every single one of my problems disappear when I stepped on that stage. For that one song, I could be everything I wasn’t.
My pussy throbbed at the thought, and I squirmed to make the feeling go away. My pheromones must have smelled like freshly brewed coffee to Bret, because they had an equal effect on him. He stirred underneath me, his cock growing stiff against my stomach. In a fluid motion that took me by surprise, he rolled us over, his eyes still closed. He inhaled deeply, moving from my hair until his lips hovered over my mouth.
Shit. He was going to kiss me.
“Oh, hey, Gem,” he mumbled, catching himself. His eyes flew open. His hair was fucking wild, and he was totally in a daze. He didn’t even know who he was sleeping with. Maybe he had to pretend I was someone else too.
“Hey,” I said softly. I thought he’d nestled himself back to sleep, but then his lips moved against my nipple. He took it between his teeth and pulled. Now it was my turn to wrap my arms around him, tangle my fingers in his hair, and keep him close to me. This lazy, half-awake sex was so honest and sweet. A release on a whole different level. No thinking, just instinct.
Which was why I tried not to freak out when he entered me without putting on a condom. I stiffened, but those little metal balls felt so fucking divine, moving against my inner walls, that I didn’t care for long. I held him inside as long as I could. His strokes were excruciatingly slow, but deep. We were never going to get closer than this. The unfamiliar sensations threw my body into overdrive more quickly than usual, but Bret continued to ride the storm. He’d learned something during those sailing lessons. Slow and steady, stay the course.
“Don’t come inside me,” I whispered in his ear.
He shook his head.
I’d swear he was sleep-fucking me. I’d make him bring me for Plan B tomorrow. We’d been on a collision course with sanity all summer long, but the one thing we could not do was make a baby.
I told myself Bret wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t awake either. How many times had he done this, unprotected and unaware? He gasped for breath as he pulled out of me and collapsed against my body. Awake or not, he came on my stomach and on the sheets. He wiped it away with a sleepy grin, then nestled his head in his favorite spot—right on my tits—and fell back into a deep sleep.
**
Bret hadn’t lied about the guy at the strip club. When they did the fist-bump-man-hug thingy, I let out a sigh of relief that I’d never seen this guy before.
“This is Steve, the owner of the club. How long has it been since we first played here?” Bret asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. “This is my friend, Katelyn.” Bret winked at me.
“Nice to meet you, Katelyn. Damn, it’s been about five years.” Steve shook his head and took my hand. “Time fucking flies, man. You guys are huge now. It’s great to have you back.”
I certainly didn’t feel like myself. I hardly ever wore makeup anymore. I never went out. At work, the animals didn’t care how pretty I was, and I’d sweat it off anyhow. Tonight I had too much of it on. The bra-and-panty set hid under my tank top and yoga pants, and my stage outfit was in my bag. I shook at the thought of even being here.
“Katelyn’s competing tonight,” Bret said.
Steve’s face lit up. This was a good sign. “I’ll be looking forward to that. I’m sure any friend of Bret’s has a few good moves.” Eww. I pulled my hand away from his and kept the smile plastered on my face, while he went on. “A couple of girls have already arrived. I have some paperwork for you to fill out, and I need to see an ID.”
My mouth dropped, and I slid my gaze over to Bret. He shrugged. Fuck. I was going to have to fess up to who I really was, and try not to make a big deal out of it. At least I still had the chance to fabricate my bio. I fumbled with my wallet, until I got out my ID.
“Thanks.” Steve smiled at me but raised his eyebrows when he took a better look at what it said. He wrote down my license number and birthday on the paper, before giving them both back to me. “Just got to make sure you’re over eighteen. You wouldn’t believe how many high school girls we get in here, wanting to show it all off. If you win, the grand prize is five hundred dollars.”
The grand prize was much higher than that, but Steve didn’t need to know. I lingered in the office, filling out the paperwork while Bret caught up with his friend. Maybe Steve wasn’t so bad. It might’ve been his way of being friendly. After all, the dude owned a strip club. Bret and I had the same last name. If Steve made the connection, he didn’t say anything. Best case scenario, he assumed we were married. Even better than that, he didn’t give a
shit.
“How are you doing?” Bret’s lips were against my ear, as we walked into the main room. He held my hand. “Still want to go through with this?”
His fingers felt foreign, laced between mine, but I needed to hold on to him. “No turtles in sight.” I turned to him and smiled, hoping he’d get my joke.
“Good.” He laughed. “But if you want to back out—”
“Yeah, I know. You’d be more than happy to take my money.” I sighed, checking out the competition. Three other girls, blonde and bubbly, were already in the room, and they all seemed to know each other. They stared me, furrowing their brows then looking back at each other. It felt an awful lot like judgment. I understood we were all in competition against each other, but I didn’t feel very welcome. Whatever. All I needed to do was step on that stage, and I’d win my own personal challenge. Their expressions changed when they realized who I’d brought as my cheering section.
“Holy shit.” One of them squinted. “You look just like Bret Starling from Enemy Impact.”
Another girl got up and approached us. “He is Bret Starling.” Biting her lip and looking at him like he was the long-lost cheeseburger she desperately needed to eat, she ran her hand down his arm. “I’d know this body anywhere. I’ve watched all your videos,” she purred, then remembered I was there too. “I’m Kendall.”
“I’m Katelyn.” The lie slipped from my tongue with more ease. She seemed much sweeter now that she saw me as a gateway to Bret.
“Are you in any of those videos?” one of the blondes on the barstool asked me. “I’ve seen them, too. I’m Dallas.”
“Rhianna,” the last one added with a wave.
So none of us were using our real names.
“Are you making any more videos, Bret?” Dallas raised her eyebrows. “I’d love to be in one, if you’re looking for actresses. I’ve done a few things like that before.”
“Maybe we could film after the competition.” Rhianna hopped off her stool and came over to flaunt her assets. Apparently it was no secret Bret was all about the boobs. “My phone makes great movies.”
Bret’s head was going to be too big for the room if they didn’t stop. Jesus. These girls offered to fuck him right after they introduced themselves. At least I waited almost twenty years to let him in my pants.
“Let’s see how the night goes.” Bret squeezed my hand. “The bar’s opening soon. I’ll be hanging out there if you need me.”
Shit, this was really happening. “Okay.”
“Good luck, Katelyn.” He smirked, slapped my ass, and then leaned in close. “You’ve got this in the fucking bag.”
One surefire way to make friends was to bring a rock star with you to amateur night. When we walked in, I thought the girls were going to eat me alive, even though they clearly didn’t see me as competition. They were carbon copies of one another. Don’t get me wrong, they were beautiful girls, but the same. Overly bronzed, with waist-length platinum-blonde hair, Kardashian-strength makeup, and emaciated bodies with surgical enhancements.
They had that type cornered, which left me with anyone who went for short, dark, and naturally curvy. I’d gone a little more Elvira than Playboy bunny with my show plans. Until Bret slapped my ass, I didn’t see it as an advantage. I hadn’t really cared that much about winning before, but I couldn’t say no to a competition. I always played to win.
“How do you know Bret Starling? Enemy Impact is amazing.” Dallas or Rhianna asked. Once they’d put on their stage outfits, they were interchangeable. “Is he judging the contest or something? I’m pumped to be stripping for a celebrity!”
All the girls giggled.
“We’ve known each other a long time.” It was the truth. And if he was a judge, these ladies didn’t even need to bother. He might fuck them, but they had no chance of winning. I’d make sure he forgot they were in the room. “And I thought the whole room judged the contest?”
Kendall’s eyes widened. “You’ve never done this before?”
I shook my head.
“Oh. Yeah. They have the room applaud and yell for us, and it’s loosely based on that. But Steve usually plants some judges in the crowd. They decide, unless their vote’s way off. So I’d be shocked if Bret wasn’t one.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dallas or Rhianna asked. “It’s okay if you need the money, or if you’re trying out stripping. We don’t judge. I’m here to get my name out for my movies. And to get on the regular roster. This is a big club. If the guys like you, you can make a lot of money here.”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted my answer to be. “It’s a long story.” I chuckled to myself. “But the short version is, I need the money.”
Steve decided we should perform in alphabetical order, which meant I was second. It also meant I was stuck backstage during Dallas’ number. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. I would’ve liked to watch her, to get a feel for things, but if I was far off from what she did, I might’ve lost my nerve. All I had to do was get on stage and let adrenaline take over. Bret had sent back a round of shots for all of us, and I’d supplemented with a rum and coke. Any stage fright faded into a comfortable haze.
“Our next contestant is a pre-med student from New York City,” Steve’s voice boomed over the speakers.
I came out on the darkened stage, sat on the stool in the center of it, and waited bent over, for the lights to rise.
“Please welcome Katelyn to the stage.”
I traced my finger up the line of my black boots as the opening beats of ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails began to play. I let my finger catch in the hem of my plaid pleated skirt and exposed skin all the way up to my hip, as I gyrated my hips on the stool. Running my hands over my black button-down shirt, I looked over my glasses at the crowd. Bret probably didn’t realize I still wore glasses, since I hadn’t let anyone see me in anything but contacts in years. I always had them with me, just in case, and as luck would have it, they were dark rimmed and nerdy. Just like he’d described. I’d almost forgotten about them until I put my makeup on. I hoped he wasn’t the only guy in the room who went for nerdy and slightly gothic.
I licked my fingertips, then trailed them down to the first button of my shirt, wiggling the fingers on my free hand to the crowd. They hooted in anticipation, and I flicked one button, another, and then ripped the fucker off. It was too tight and worn out anyway. I stood, kicking the stool back to a roar of approval, before strutting the catwalk.
Once the music—and I can’t lie, the booze—took over, my body knew just what to do. I stood, legs spread, at the edge of the catwalk, dancing and teasing the crowd. I held on to my skirt after I unzipped it, helping it slide down my legs. Then I sunk to my knees and crawled to the guy who held out money. Holy shit. A quick grind, and I threw the bill to the center of the stage. Next guy. Repeat. Fuck. This was actually kind of awesome. I went over to the next guy but stood before I gave him a private dance. His mouth fell open in disappointment, but he threw the money anyway. I knocked one strap off my shoulder, like I did last night for Bret. Yeah, they liked that. I lowered the other, holding on the cups as I unhooked. I dangled the bra in front of another patron, letting him pull on the strap. We let go at the same time, and it landed somewhere near the stool.
I was topless in a room full of strangers, and they loved it. I loved it. I ran my hands over my tits as I approached the pole. The other girls had been discussing technique. I didn’t know any tricks, so I swung around but didn’t get too fancy. I tugged on the strap of my thong. My heart pounded as I leaned against the pole, slid my underwear down, and stepped out of them. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached over my head to hold on to the pole like it was my dancing partner as I grinded my naked ass against it.
“Let’s hear it for Katelyn.” Steve’s voice once again boomed over the PA system, as the lights fell. The crowd went wild. I squatted, to pick up my clothes and money—so much money—before scrambling off the stage.
After dressing in an
adrenaline-soaked haze, I wandered out to the bar area. Several patrons stopped me before I reached Bret. I’d put the underwear and skirt back on, but the shirt was ruined, and I had to go back to my tank top. The boots were awesome and they stayed on. A couple guys begged for lap dances and a little more than that, but I smiled and declined. Steve encouraged us to make friends in the crowd, whatever that meant, to get votes and make fans. That wasn’t part of my deal. I’d already fulfilled my obligations for the evening.
“You were fucking smoking up there.” Bret grabbed me as I approached, and rocked me back and forth in a hug. “I almost came in my pants watching you.”
“Thank you,” I said against his ear. What else do you say to that?
He pulled away and laughed. “No, thank you.”
“I mean for making me do it. I thought I was going to freak out and run off the stage, but it was like something took over my body, and I don’t even know what happened. I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.” Now I knew I could do anything I put my mind to. Pay off my debt and get into graduate school. Mind over matter, baby.
“That’s what it’s like for me on stage, too. I become possessed. It’s the best high in the world.” He squeezed me again before letting me turn around to watch Rhianna. She poured baby oil over her body and was playing with her pussy in front of the same guy I wouldn’t let see my boobs. When she crawled away from him, she had a butt plug in that looked like half a disco ball, catching the light like her ass was a UFO. A little too much for amateur night, if you asked me.
“And that was Rhianna,” Steve announced. “I’ll give the ladies a little time to circulate, before we decide the winner.”
“Come with me,” Bret growled in my ear and bit my lobe. Before I had a chance to ask where, he was pulling me through the club. Men held their hands out to us, hoping to get our attention, but Bret was on a mission.
Dirty Little Secret: New Adult Rock Star Romance (Not Exactly A Stepbrother Romance Book 1) Page 14
