Dirty Vegas Nights (The Trifecta #2) - Logan Chance Page 0,6

be like Ben, just a milder version. He would bring home women in droves leaving them weak and in love, yet never found the one to make him want to be a one woman man. After a couple years in the business, Damien stepped back from his whoring ways. He began to focus on making our brand, and he did such a good job he made us worldwide. Willie, the owner of the club we work at, took us in, and taught us everything we needed to know to become the Trifecta.

Damien made us better. And now that we’re taking over the club, the plan since Willie took us in, Damien is only focused on making the club the best it can be. No more time for women in Damien’s busy business life.

I think it has more to do with just being busy making the Trifecta the most well known erotic dancers. Even if he won’t admit it, I’m pretty sure Damien’s getting sick of all the women treating him like he’s nothing more than a muscular body. I had brought him over to the dark side, he just refuses to admit it.

It’s exhausting being treated like a plaything.

Being hollered at like we don’t have anything meaningful to say.

Me, I hated it almost from the very start. Women groping me as if they have the right, as if they own my body, and can treat it however they please. The other dancers laugh at me because of my hatred toward the way we’re treated, but I don’t care. Well, to be fair my emotions didn’t turn to hatred until I had to get a restraining order on one lady. She came in begging for a VIP experience and for some reason right after she left the club she decided I was the man for her. I cringe remembering all the attempts she did to get my attention.

I do my job, and I do it fucking well. But when I’m done, I leave to shower the hundreds of perfumes clinging to my skin. I can’t wait until we take over the club, so I won’t have to dance anymore. The thought that we’re almost done stripping is what keeps me going.

It motivates me.

“I’m going to shower.” I finish my beer on my way to the kitchen, tossing it in the recycling. Damien’s laughter follows me down the hallway to my private bathroom.

Asshole.

The hot water feels amazing on my tight muscles, but it doesn’t do anything to relax me. The sight of Emma dressed in her tiny shorts and cut off top is burned in my brain. If I ever lose my memories I hope that one doesn’t vanish. Every time I blink the image of her shiny shorts, tanned legs, breasts straining against the tight material of her top come to mind. My cock hardens to the point it’s painful as it demands attention. I stare down at it in disgust, thinking of the women who go home and finger themselves to the thought of me. Fuck, I’m no better than them.

I ignore my dick as I snap off the shower and dry off before putting lotion on. The three of us are particular with our skin and our bodies. Our bodies are our money makers, so the three of us keep a regimen of body care. We work out every day, and have excellent skin care products. It helps that we’re the Trifecta. We get sent products to test out daily.

Sure, being part of the Trifecta does have its perks.

Thinking of perks, I glance down groaning at the huge bulge punching out my boxer briefs. I climb into bed not paying attention to the engorged monster.

I lay there with my aching dick, doing my best not to address its needs. There will be no sleep for me until I get it to go down, but I refuse to jerk off. I’m better than that. I have to be, or I’m a hypocrite. My mind wanders back to work tonight. All the women pawing at me, rubbing their tits against me. I try to think of the mingling smells of their perfume, but all I can think of is Emma, making my erection impossible to handle.

All the women I picture turn into versions of Emma. The hands pawing me transform into light pink fingernails on dainty hands. The tight dresses turn into sparkly red shorts and barely-there white t-shirts displaying full under boob. I want to forget the light vanilla smell