private room. My skin prickles with irritation, and I’m tempted to throw open the doors and bust open skulls.
I shift on my barstool and try to shake off my severe mental discomfort. Fresh off a drug deal, I’m hopped up on adrenaline and what-the-fuck. I breathe through a mix of relief and jumpiness. Don’t go kicking the ass of someone who doesn’t deserve it. After all, this is a legitimate job. Trix’s job. It’s her fucking job! I fist my hair and ready to make my hasty exit when our drinks arrive.
“Here’s to a successful fighting year, boys.” Wade holds up his beer and clanks bottles with the newbies, but I avoid the cheery “hear, hear” and slug back a good half the bottle.
“Gentleman, have we got a treat for you tonight!” The announcer’s voice grates on my nerves, ratcheting my agitation. “You got wood? Because we’ve got a girl who’s ready to grind on that. Put your hands together for the sugary-sweet and sultry—”
Oh, fuck no . . .
“Trix!”
Motherfucker! I slam down my beer bottle as the room goes dark. Rippling blue lights flash on the stage, and the sound of crashing waves trickle from the speakers. The crowd roars and yells at a blank stage. The music builds, waves mixing with some Indian snake charmer music, sexy and seductive. My heart pounds in my chest, and I’m transfixed on what I know is going to be a scene that will destroy me as much as turn me the fuck on.
A soft sultry voice singing about drinking drips through the speakers. Bright lights flash.
And she appears. Bare feet, bikini, and board shorts. No fucking way.
I suck in a quick breath and hold it, spellbound by the way she looks combined with the slow roll of her hips. Hypnotizing. The bass drops, but the tempo stays slow, lazy. Like love-making.
“Holy shit, it’s her!” Wade shoves my shoulder, but I’m locked on the beautiful woman on stage, unable to rip my eyes from the vision before me.
Her hands move over her body, sensual swipes of her palms over her belly that move between her legs, reminding me of last night. I shift in my seat, harder than steel, and watch as she dances just for me. All that hair, longer than it was the last time I saw her is draped and thrown around her face, which is fixed in an expression of ecstasy.
She turns, sliding her shorts down with a tug of her thumb, teasing to within an inch of my sanity. My fists clench against my thighs; the urge to rip those tiny scraps of material from her body and sink deep inside her is so strong it’s all I can do to remain in my seat.
The shorts drop to her ankles to reveal a bright yellow G-string, and she kicks them into the crowd to get swallowed up by a group of hungry men.
I blink, mesmerized by how she can move her body. Like liquid, she glides. Crawling on all fours, she dips her chin to the floor. Her chest, belly, hips, thighs . . . like a serpent. Fuck, she’s outstanding.
My legs push me to standing, and before I realize what I’m doing, they carry me toward the stage.
She pushes up to her knees, legs wide, and her hands glide up over her breasts, squeezing them gently before she moves them to around her neck, and with a flick of her wrist, her top is gone. Adrenaline fires through my veins; lust and the need to pop the eyes from every man in the room battle for dominance.
She drops into a wide split, the globes of her tanned ass in the faces of the entire front row. The song goes on at an erotic pace and sings about swerving on a surfboard. She mimics the motion of sex, her knee cocked as she rolls her hips in waves and grinds down on nothing beneath her.
For a split and selfish second, I imagine this is all for me. I take my head to a place where everything she does is for me and only for me. Where her body and all she has to offer she gives freely to the one man she can trust with it.
Me.
Warmth explodes in my chest.
She inches her gorgeous ass toward the edge of the stage, and hands come at her from every direction. I jerk from my fantasy and blink away the fog of lust as patrons shove as many bills as