and grunted out a low, guttural sound. He went completely rigid under me, and I didn’t know what had happened until I felt the warmth beneath me. The growing sticky wetness. He held me tight, bucking and shuddering against me, giving in to his shameful release.
“Ally,” he said again, thrusting against me. Using my body to ride out the orgasm.
I was on the edge of my own climax and held back on principle. I wasn’t going to give him that piece of me. He hadn’t earned it. And if I had a first orgasm with Dominic, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be in a strip club on amateur night.
I didn’t need champagne and candlelight, but I did need to not be paid.
He was vulnerable, powerless. I’d won.
But it felt like just another loss. Because now I only wanted him more.
I’d just made Dominic Russo, my boss, come in his pants at a strip club.
I didn’t know whether to go jump off a bridge or pat myself on the back. Maybe I’d do both. After those shots.
I decided a hasty retreat was required immediately. I slipped off his lap and out of his reach before he could reel me back in and make some crazy demand that made me think he cared.
“That’s two you owe me, Dom.”
And then I walked out.
34
Ally
Here’s a lesson, folks: Stripper shoes are impossible to run in.
I slipped out of the VIP room before Dominic could gather his wits—or a wad of tissues—and ran for the dressing room. Faith had thoughtfully left a shot of something that wasn’t tequila for me that I knocked back while trying to drag on my pants. I gave up when I tripped and fell over a pink suede ottoman. So I opted for my coat. It was long enough to cover me to my knees.
Ally. Baby. Dominic’s words as he came, as I made him come, hammered inside my head.
I’d heard a commotion outside the dressing room door and knew the shit was hitting the fan.
So I ran out the back and into the February night.
And now I was shuffle-jogging my way toward the closest bus stop wondering if I’d lose my toes to frostbite or these damn shoes.
The list of how many stupid things I’d accomplished in the last hour ran like a silent home movie in my head.
1. I’d danced semi-topless for an audience.
2. I’d said yes to a private dance.
3. I’d ridden my boss to orgasm in the VIP room of a strip club. A classy one, but still.
4. I’d panicked and run out of the club, leaving my stage money and whatever winnings behind.
5. I hadn’t stayed for my second free drink.
6. I’d placed my freaking pride ahead of my father’s well-being. I should have just swallowed my stupid pride and asked Faith for a loan.
7. I hadn’t gone with the cheerleader outfit with the cute little platform sneakers.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I whispered, my teeth chattering. The February air was so cold it burned my bare legs. I was going to top this night off with hypothermia and frostbite. Tomorrow, I could go to the nursing home and help my father pack.
Because I couldn’t stomach taking Dom’s money.
A tear formed in the corner of my eye and froze, binding the fake lashes to my lower real ones.
“Dammit.” Shivering, I swiped at it with my sleeve and only made it worse.
“Ally!” I knew that voice and I knew that tone.
Dominic Russo was mad, and he was closing in.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I chanted as I picked up the pace. I wasn’t running so much as prancing briskly.
It took him all of four seconds to catch and capture me.
He grabbed my arm and whipped me around. I had no balance and fell into him. Thank you, stripper shoes.
He held me there against him. It was my first good look at his face, and I immediately regretted peeking. He. Was. Furious.
“Take your goddamn money, Ally,” he said through clenched teeth.
“It’s your goddamn money! I don’t want a dime from you!”
“So you’re willing to dance for a stranger and take his money, but mine is tainted? That’s a murky moral ground, Ally.”
“Fuck you, Dominic.”
I tried to step around him on the sidewalk, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands held tight on my arms, making it clear I wasn’t slipping away from this conversation.
He was so angry and something else too. I saw it in those unfairly beautiful blue eyes. Hurt. I’d hurt Dominic Russo.
I’d wanted to hurt him.