Strip for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  “It’s haunted, for one.” I maintain my deadpan tone and expression. “Yeah, Freddie Kreuger actually buried his victims’ bodies here after he was done with them.”

  “Oh my God!”

  I don’t break character, even though she looks adorable with her cheeky grin and I want to join in on her laughter. “It’s true. When anyone tries to buy this land, the souls haunt them in their sleep.”

  “Freddie’s army!”

  “Exactly.” I crack a smile at the way she plays along. Then I look around, putting on my most scared face. “We probably shouldn’t stay long. I think I feel rumbling below us. It’s almost time for them to rise.”

  “I think that’s just your ego coming out to play. Even the Earth can’t hold it down for too long.”

  “One, two, Freddie’s coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door,” I chant, but can’t contain my laughter. My shoulders shake as I take a swig of wine from the bottle. Barely swallowing it down through my laughter, I take a deep breath. “I had you going, though. Tell me.” I lean closer, facing her head-on, and wiggle my eyebrows. “I had you going, right?”

  “Yes,” she replies, matching my seductive tone, “I’m so wet from your joke that I just can’t stand it.”

  She meant it as a joke, to play along with mine, but her saying she’s wet makes my dick twitch without control. My throat suddenly dry, I do my best to swallow. “I knew it.”

  “Seriously, why don’t you buy it? The beach in the distance, the city—this is the perfect location.”

  “It is.” I pass her the bottle. “I’ve looked into the owner of this land. He’s had it for a while but hasn’t done anything with it. I could try to convince him to sell, I guess.” I exhale roughly as I continue. “I don’t know about the rest. My investment-to-profit ratios aren’t impressive enough to get outside funds, and a loan would be impossible by myself. I wouldn’t get to keep any profit for at least five years, and it’d be another thirty before I was free of debt. Not sure it’s a risk I’m willing to take at the moment.” She raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “What? I didn’t lie when I said I have a business degree. Nor did I sleep through my classes.”

  “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I, uh…” Her eyelids flutter, and she pulls at her hair nervously.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hearing you talk all professional and formal… it’s kind of hot.”

  “Yeah?” I repeat, but this time it’s more of a whisper.

  “I’m actually wet now. Talk dirty business to me again.”

  “Profit margins. Inspections. Collateral. Lo—”

  She cuts me off with a kiss, her lips smashing against mine without holding back. Crawling onto my lap and straddling me, she continues kissing me, tugging at my lips.

  I pull back to catch my breath. “You keep doing that and I’ll think it’s leading somewhere.”

  “That’s the goal,” she says breathlessly as she slips a hand between us and rubs my length.

  I bite back a curse and rest my head on her chest as she moves her hand up and down, but she brings my face back up with her other hand and continues kissing me.

  I’d be afraid someone would see us, but we haven’t seen any cars pass by since we pulled up. Normally this spot wouldn’t be so empty, but being so late, it seems everyone’s either going home or would rather walk around downtown in hopes of seeing a celebrity.

  Kendall doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest as she pulls my dick free, then pulls her own jeans down. “Should’ve told me we were having a picnic. I would’ve worn a skirt.”

  “I won’t be so stupid next time,” I say as I help her out of them. I check around one last time but don’t see anyone, though I still cover her ass with my hands as she lowers herself onto me. With a gasp from her and a growl from me, she moves up and down at a steady pace, kissing me greedily.

  I hold her close, her soft breaths vibrating through me as I help move her ass up and down more quickly, bringing us both so close to release. So close to the edge of bliss as she rides me here in the open, in a place so special to me.

  Sharing it with her makes it even more special.

  The warmth radiating from our bodies joining keeps us unaffected by the slight breeze. The surrounding beauty nothing like the beauty of her shaking in ecstasy while I’m still inside her. Nothing like her beauty in this moment as she pulls back to meet my gaze with wide eyes and a small smile.

  I pull her down as I find my own release, gripping her ass to push as far as possible inside her while I kiss her, hungrily tasting her with all the energy I have left.

  Drained, we stay this way for a moment, our breathing synced. The city noise and small waves from the ocean slowly infiltrate our senses once again the longer we stare into each other’s eyes. Like our souls are recognizing each other for the first time.

  My throat goes dry, the feeling inside me begging to be let out again. “You know what goes good with sex?” I ask instead.

  “Tell me.”

  “Pizza.”

  “Mmmm… yes, please.”

  As she scoots off me to put her jeans back on, I reach for the small boxes that are less warm than when we began our picnic, but warm, nonetheless. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re more excited about the pizza than the sex.”

  She looks at me as she zips her pants up. “Maybe. Haven’t had a cheat meal in weeks.” She shrugs and sits next to me, snatching a box. “What kind of pizza is it? I’ve never had Angelo’s before.”

  “And you’ve lived here how long?”

  “Hey, cut me some slack. I’ve been trying to stay away from this stuff because, you know, carbs.”

  “And that is why I got cauliflower crust and asked for no cheese. It’s still pizza, but we don’t have to feel as guilty, at least.”

  “Yeah right. You could eat an entire pizza, regular crust with extra cheese, and you’d still have a ten-pack.”

  I beat on my chest and yell into the quiet night, my voice echoing in the distance and scaring the birds.

  She covers her face like we’re in public and I embarrassed her. Like I scared more than just the birds. “Just eat your pizza, will you. Which, by the way, is fucking amazing,” she says with a mouthful, which makes me laugh harder.

  “Save some for me.”

  Once our pizza is eaten, we settle onto our backs and watch the sky together, talking about the hotel. About the size and style I want. How I want it to be comfortable for families but formal enough for small events. How I want a large pool and big fitness center.

  “You should add a full-service spa and sauna,” she suggests. “Then you should give me discounts.”

  I smile at her, thankful for the suggestion and for the way she includes herself in the future. That she thinks she’ll stick around long enough to see the project to the end.

  That she’s dreaming with me—because that’s all this is, a dream. The chance that I build my hotel is slim. It would take too much money to get there.

  And I’d have to leave Naked Heat again.

  As I wipe pizza sauce from Kendall’s chin with a wink, I wonder if she’d be okay with that. If I continued being a stripper.

  Judging by the way she hid it from her best friend, I don’t feel good about those chances, either.

  Once we’re back at her apartment, I can’t sleep. I can’t stop the flow of memories of Joelle telling her friends I’m a dancer, but it’s only temporary. Like the word “stripper” in association with her was unbearable.

  With a deep breath, I whisper to Kendall, partially hoping she doesn’t hear me so I don’t have to deal with this. So I can avoid her rejection. “You didn’t tell Emma about me… about what I do?”

  Her eyes flutter open, briefly meeting my gaze before casting them back down. She idly traces the rose tattoo on my chest with her forefinger. “No.”

  I gulp, my voice shaky with my next words. “If me being a stripper is going to be a problem, I need to know.”r />
  She stills, and when she doesn’t answer, I shake my head, the weight of it all coming down on me. Sitting up, I start putting my shoes on, but just as I’m about to say something, she tugs on my arm. Her small hand is unable to cover my whole bicep, making her look so fragile when I know she’s anything but.

  “It’s not,” she pleads. “Honestly, I never thought I’d see you again, so it didn’t seem to matter at the time if I told her.”

  I nod, unsure if there’s anything else.

  She scratches her head and sits against the headboard while I watch her over my shoulder. “I told her I met a guy in Vegas, but anything more seemed futile since it was Vegas. Not like I thought I was special enough for you to come looking for me.” She looks away.

  I drop my shoe and fall back into place with her against her headboard, cup her face in my large hands, and kiss her. “You are special. That’s why I had to find you. To see you again.”

  She returns my kiss but does so hesitantly. I don’t know what else I can say or do to convince this woman that she’s worth so much. So much more than I can give her. But I’d be happy to try.

  I want to try.

  I kiss her again more forcefully, begging her with my lips to believe me. Begging her to return the favor and accept me as well.

  “It’s really not a problem,” she says again more firmly, but I’m not sure if it’s for her benefit or mine.

  I’ll take it, for now. I’m ready to take anything she gives me at this point. “Good, because I make like six figures a year doing what I do,” I joke, though I actually do.

  “Really?” She taps her chin with a delicate finger, and I want to kiss her there. Everywhere. “I could use some cash. Maybe I should start stripping.”

  I whip my head around, and we almost bump foreheads. She sits back, stunned, her eyes wide like I’ve scared her when she’s the one who scared me with her comment.

  The thought of her taking her clothes off for other men sends a rage through my whole body unlike anything I’ve ever known. Trembling, I take deep breaths and try to control my primal need to claim her, for her to know she’s mine.

  I growl and decide to unleash the beast within, anyway. “I don’t think so.”

  When I smash my mouth to hers, her moans bounce off the walls. She’s not stunned anymore. No, she meets my every movement with her own eagerness, her nails digging into my shoulders. Instead of wincing, I welcome it. Because it reminds me that she wants me.

  At least for now.

  There was hesitation in her words and kiss before, but for now, it’s enough for me. I’ll convince her I’m real and falling for her in time.

  That’s all I need—time.

  Chapter 32

  Kendall

  The next morning, Sebastian and I wake up to his alarm going off at five o’clock. And Ty’s text. I snort when he reads it aloud, even though it’s so early in the morning and my eyes hurt.

  “From Ty—I felt strong doing heavy deadlifts yesterday but woke up as a ninety-three-year-old geriatric. Pick me up a walker on your way to the hotel.” Then Sebastian turns to me. “See what I have to deal with every day? A baby.”

  Sebastian leaves soon after, with several kisses to my lips, cheeks, and temples, and I need a week to recover from his visit.

  Because holy fuck.

  That man.

  I stretch out on my bed, delightfully sore in every spot.

  Cabinets open and close in the kitchen, and the sink starts running. I stumble only a little and smile at how Sebastian tossed me around last night like I was nothing.

  And everything.

  The way he couldn’t get enough.

  It felt good to be wanted. Needed. Accepted.

  “Cardboard pancakes or mushy oatmeal today?” Emma asks without turning to me.

  I sit in a chair by the window and put my elbows on the table, resting my head on my hands. “Why do the Insta athletes always make food look so yum, and our only options are cardboard and essentially puke?”

  She barely giggles. “It’s their job.”

  Too early for joking, I guess. She’s always up early even though she hates it, but it seems like she has to start the day at dawn to fulfill some kind of lifelong path—some yogi shit she discovered on her journey to find herself after Brant. “As I said yesterday, you don’t have to eat this shit. Why are you even bothering if you’re miserable?”

  “Healthy dinner food options are usually delicious.” I shrug. “I may not have a great breakfast, but you better believe I’m ending the day on a good note with a spring salad. Or honey-glazed salmon.” I raise my pinky up like I’m in a mansion and not a small apartment that’s barely able to contain the two of us. It’s on the outskirts of LA, wedged between a hotel that I’m pretty sure is a brothel, and an Asian restaurant owned by the family across the hall, who I’m pretty sure kill their own food over there. The smell never goes away. Seeps into our apartment little by little every day until I’m sure one day I’ll be living in that restaurant and not know it.

  Emma doesn’t laugh.

  “Okay, my dinner joke wasn’t funny. It’s early, give me a break.”

  “Maybe if you would’ve gotten more sleep last night instead of Sebastian’s lovin’, you’d be on your game today.” She grins over her coffee mug, small waves of steam radiating from it. She drinks it black, no creamer, and I want to hurl. Black coffee? Only soul-crushers drink it that way.

  “You’re just mad you aren’t getting any dick.” I flip her off, and she shakes her head.

  “Are you taking him to Lauren’s wedding?”

  My face flushes. Will I? Should I?

  Sensing my hesitation, she teases and pokes my side. “He could be Lauren’s entertainment at the reception. Who needs a band?”

  I know she’s kidding, but that’s exactly the reason I shouldn’t ask him. People will wonder who he is, what he does, and I can’t have my family knowing I’m seeing a stripper. Especially not this early. I let out a weak “Right” and smile for Emma.

  But my mind races.

  “Easy.” She holds up her hands. “Looks like you’re about to vomit.”

  “How can I tell my mom that I’m seeing a stripper?” Between this and the impending tasteless breakfast, I do actually feel the urge to vomit.

  Emma blinks at me. “Are you seeing him? I mean, are you going to see him again? Realistically, he lives several hours away, travels a lot, and flirts—a lot.”

  Voicing my worries makes this all real. I’m seeing a stripper. And even though it’s not serious, he makes me think it could be.

  I want it to be.

  I exhale and let my head fall on the table. She’s right—all those things are true, especially the last one. It’s part of his job. And although that would make many women jealous, it’s not something I’ve ever been guilty of. I don’t tend to get jealous at all, unless my boyfriends frequent strip clubs like Adam used to.

  “You’re right.” I throw my hands up. “It would never work, logistically.”

  Emma winces like she does when she uses the “p” word, penis. Like she’s guilty of something I’m not aware of. “Look,” she says while I brace myself for her next words, “I may have misjudged him and let my own trust issues with guys get in the way.” Her expression softens, as much as her tight ponytail will allow. “Sebastian doesn’t flirt so much. Definitely not as much as Ty. My God, did you see the way he slapped my ass yesterday? The nerve.”

  “Huh?”

  She shakes her head. “What I’m saying is… when have you ever been logical about anything? College, moving out here, riding the waves of life’s ocean? So you add falling for a stripper to the mix.”

  “Should I be offended? Not sure how to feel about this right now.”

  She shakes her head again and rests a hand on mine. “You know what makes you happy. You’ve always gone after what you wanted, and from what I heard last night? You want that hunk of man.”

  “Don’t say sh
it like that.” I shake my finger at her. “It just sounds dirty coming from your prissy mouth.”

  She grabs my finger and bites—actually bites—it.

  “Hey!” I screech. “I always knew there was something feisty buried in there, but Jesus.”

  She shrugs and starts humming the tune of what I think is ABBA’s “Dancing Queen,” then sets two plates full of pancakes and eggs in front of us. “Oh, and Gym Class Heroes is a band.” She pulls up an image on her phone.

  “I told you.” I scrunch my nose up at them. “And not a hot one, either. Unless you’re into the whole ‘I’m high and I own it’ look.”

  “You’re not into that? Just strippers, then?” she says sarcastically.

  I mimic her words in my best childish voice like I used to do when we were in elementary school. Oh the days of “I’m rubber and you’re glue,” or my favorite, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

  “Real mature.”

  I stick my tongue out but pieces of pancake fall out, and when I burst out laughing, more small speckles of dried oats decorate the counter between us.

  “You’re disgusting,” she says, trying to hold in her own laughter. “I don’t know why I ever let you move in.”

  “Because you need me to keep things interesting around here. Who else would agree to be your lesbian lover to the neighbors?”

  “Please stop.” She final loses her battle and snorts.

  I hold up another forkful of pancake. “Remember when Pop-Tarts were acceptable?”

  “When we were ten, yes.”

  “I wish I had a strawberry one right now.” I stuff a large bite in my mouth. “I’ll just pretend,” I say while more pieces of pancake fly out of my mouth.

  “That’s it.” She throws a towel my way and takes her plate to the couch while another fit of laughter consumes me.

  I’ve laughed more this weekend than I have since I moved to LA, and a long time before that. And not because of LA itself. I fell in love with the city immediately, with its vibrant life and lack of tractors like you’d find on every highway back in the South. It’s been an unbelievable dream come true.