cock. But that can’t be me, I remind myself as I roll and move.
I search desperately for a safe topic. “How is work?” I ask.
She sips her wine, crossing her legs innocuously. The top she wears gapes slightly, showing the crests of her full breasts. If she lifted her arms, I would see—
“It’s good. I’ve got a regular spot there now, but as the headliner so…” She shrugs, the shirt slipping down one shoulder to expose her tanned skin. My mouth aches with the need to dig my teeth into it while I slam into that sweet little pussy. My son is right there, through the doors, but I debate running my hand up her thigh and parting them. Would she be wet?
Would she scream for me?
“That’s good,” I rasp, before clearing my throat. “What’s the club’s name? I might have to come some time.”
She giggles, a blush staining her cheeks that has me grabbing onto the table edge. Fuck, she blushes so goddamn prettily. I bet it would flush her chest as well.
“Erm, I don’t think you would like it.” She tilts her head, those blue eyes lighting up naughtily.
“Why? Because I’m old?” I huff.
She winks. “Not at all, but… Well, frankly, Mr. Ph—”
“Tyler,” I interrupt, raising my eyebrow and daring her to call me Mr. anything again.
“Tyler,” she corrects, my name rolling from her tongue, caressing it. “It’s a burlesque club.”
I blink and freeze, my body turning rigid. I can’t stop my eyes from running across her again, imagining her in those little costumes while dancing across a stage. Fuck.
“Burlesque?” I manage to get out of a choked throat.
Fuck, that’s all I’m going to see now. Imagining her in lace and pearls, floating across in the spotlight while smirking at me. She laughs again. “Yep. Justin probably didn’t want me to say, but I’m not embarrassed.” She shrugs one shoulder and moves on the board. “It’s just another form of dance, of expression, just like ballet or tap.” She looks up then with defiance on her face, daring me to judge her. “They all use their bodies to express their emotions, but in burlesque, I get to be free and lay it all out on the stage, to flirt and tease that line. It empowers me. It’s not all about sex, it’s about power.”
I nod in understanding. I wasn’t judging, I was trying to stop myself from demanding she put on a show for me. “Of course, you sing as well? That’s very impressive, you must be quite the athlete.”
She tilts her head in confusion, and I carry on, “To dance and sing at the same time, that takes great strength.”
The smile is slow, but when it fills those lips, I suck in a wobbly breath. It punches me right in the chest, as if me understanding means everything to her. Does Justin not?
“That’s a very enlightened view to have. Many men get insecure.” She huffs.
“Justin?” I surmise, crossing that bridge. I shouldn’t ask, but I’m not backing out now. I trap her in my gaze, and she shifts, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at me.
“He didn’t mind at first…but yeah, he’s getting worse with it. Thinks I want to sell my body for money.” She glances down, her face angry. “They always do. They never see past the pasties and feathers to the art underneath, to the freedom it gives me.”
“Is that what you want, angel, freedom?” It slips out, I can’t help it. But I don’t take it back.
She jerks her head up, meeting my eyes, those pink lips parting temptingly. Swallowing, she nods. “Always. To be free and be who I want, to do what I want…who I want.” Her voice turns husky at the end.
Our eyes stay locked, and I’m unable to break it. I can’t look away, even though I should. Tension fills the air as her meaning sinks into my skin. Does Lexi want me the way I want her? Is that what she’s trying to say?
I open my mouth to ask, but the sliding door slams open and breaks the spell. “You ready, babe? I’m tired,” Justin calls, as he steps into the living room.
She clears her throat and gets to her feet. Winking at me, she moves again, and I gawk as she wins. “Gotcha,” she murmurs, and turns with a grin.
A laugh bursts out of me. No one has ever beat me. Not ever. But this little angel just did, an angel dreaming of freedom—something she won’t