Page 209 of Hateful Games

We hoot, throwing our hands in the air when the DJ shouts, raising the bass. The song turns to “Too many nights” by Metro Boomin. He’s become my go-to artist lately. Every song of his I freaking love. Closing my eyes, I roam my hands over my hips, the sides of my waist, before traveling up my breasts while slowly moving my hips to the rhythm of the beat.

One song becomes two. Two becomes three. Yet there’s no stopping us.

Guys try to approach us, one boldly grabbing my hips, but I shove him back, giving him two middle fingers, and he scurries away. Throwing my arm around Iris, who is the best dancer in our little trio, we press closer and dance together. Bianca pulls out her phone and starts recording us, cheering and singing the lyrics.

Flicking my hair back, I lift the hem of my dress a notch and circle my hips against Iris. She smirks and seductively grabs my waist. Ever so slowly, she bends low before rising up and grinding against me.

Bianca puts the phone away and joins us until we’re all hugging and screaming in happiness.

“One more song and then we have to leave,” informs Bianca, shouting in our ears.

So, we sway and laugh like no one’s watching.

Afterward, we hail a cab to the most anticipated show of our vacation. Watching chiseled and sculpted sexy men strip and dance, what woman wouldn’t be eager as hell? Plus, what kind of bachelorette would it be if there weren’t strippers?

I’m also secretly hoping that if I see other equally as handsome men, this sudden attraction I’ve felt for Nova that has me fangirling and daydreaming about him will go away. Once I realize he isn’t that special.

Magic Knights strippers better be the cure.

“Oh wow, is every single woman in the city here?” exclaims Iris, mouth gaping at the long line of women of all ages, above eighteen years, of course, waiting for entry.

“I bet.” I nod, watching a young group of girls busy taking selfies.

“Don’t worry, I got us VIP tickets. Our seats are the best,” says Bianca. Out of us all, she’s salivating to hurry inside. “With a private meet and greet in our own lounge. Come on, we don’t have to stand in line.”

Iris and I chase after her as she somehow manages to sprint in her high heels.

“Who lit a fire under your ass, Bee?” I yell after her. “We’re right on time.”

“I don’t want to miss the opening performance.”

“Jesus.”

The security guard, a handsome and hulking black man, scans the QR code of our tickets and IDs before pushing aside the velvety red rope and letting us in. The gates open with a flourish and we’re swarmed with equally enthusiastic and ecstatic women.

While shirtless men roam around the place, serving drinks to the tables as well as from behind the biggest bar I’ve ever seen.

“I’m going to remember this night till the day I die, I swear,” mumbles an awestruck Iris.

I’m grinning like a fool too. “Me too! Every man here is gorgeous.”

“We’re in heaven, ladies,” mumbles Bianca. “I mean, just look at the architecture of this place. The aesthetic. I’m convincing Dash to get lights like these for our theater room at the new house.”

“Of course you’d be drooling over the interior,” I mutter, shaking my head.

Iris jumps in saying, “It’s raining sexy men over here and she’s staring at the dumb lights.”

“I can’t help it, okay!” Bianca pouts at us. “Besides, I have an undeniably sexy man with washboard abs back home. Why would I drool over another?”

I raise one eyebrow. “You do realize we’re here at a strip show, Bee?”

“The sole purpose is to drool over them,” reminds Iris. “Or are you going to cover your eyes when they take their clothes off.”

“I’m perfectly capable of appreciating male beauty without lusting after them,” she innocently replies. “Unlike you two, Miss Soon-to-Be Singhania and Mrs. D’Cruz.”

“Smart-ass,” I taunt.

Smirking, she turns around and checks our table number before guiding us toward it. Ours is in the front row, directly in front of the big stage. It’s going to be a spectacular view. I catch a few women eyeing us with envy.

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