Page 10 of Lucky's Trouble

My core clenches, and my nipples, which have been soft throughout my dance, tighten to points and tingle with desire. I’ve never had a reaction like this to a man at the club before, no matter how attractive they are. To me, they’re not people; they’re money, a means to an end.

I take a bite of the sweet treat and then offer the remaining bit back to the biker. He reaches out to accept it, our fingers touching. His long thumb strokes mine, sending prickles of need through my body. It only lasts for a second, but it’s long enough to make me want this man with every fiber of my being. With our gazes locked, he pops the leftover inch of candy into his mouth, as though sharing food with a stripper is commonplace.

The lights go down, and the song ends with me basically gaping at the stranger, not in the splits with my ass bouncing like it normally does. If Neal’s watching, I’ll no doubt hear about my lackluster performance because how dare I break character? And what was I thinking giving that much attention to one person? Who would want to buy a dance from me when I all but ignored the other eager men?

Still stunned by my reaction, I stand up to walk off stage. Before I step into the darkened hallway, I look back and find the biker’s attention still on me. His pointer finger hooks in my direction, requesting my company, and without questioning it, I nod. At least tonight’s not a total bust. I’ll just have to milk this private dance for all he’s worth.

With quick steps, I sneak through the dressing room, relieved when Neal isn’t waiting for me, and hurry into the main area of the club. Spotting the bikers right where I left them, I stand tall and swallow down any Tinleigh that made its way to the surface. She’s not welcome here.

Shaking out my hair, I avoid making eye contact with the sexy biker and focus my attention on his friend. He’s safer.

“Did you like my performance?”

He looks almost confused as to why I’m asking him when something clearly happened between me and his buddy while I was on stage. With his brows bunched together, he mutters, “Yeah. Was good.”

“That didn’t sound convincing. Maybe you should take me somewhere more private, and I could try again?” I run a finger down his shoulder but jerk it away when the sexy stranger I’m ignoring stands and growls like a feral animal.

Holy shit, he’s bigger than I thought—at least a foot taller than me and double my width.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I ask nervously, my eyes traveling up and up until I meet his.

“He’s not interested.” His voice matches his appearance, deep and thick. And fucking sexy.

“But you are?”

“Lead the way.” He motions for me to proceed.

“I charge fifty dollars a song.”

“Deal.”

I take his hand, weaving my soft and delicate fingers through his thick and rough ones, leading him to the back of the club where the private booths are. The bouncers eye him speculatively, probably wondering if they could take him down if need be. I’m not worried. I don’t feel unsafe, and after three years of this, I can tell when there are going to be problems. This guy doesn’t give off that vibe.

There is something, though. Why else would he growl when I touched his friend?

A bouncer named Tim holds the curtains back on a free booth, and we step inside. I gesture to the vinyl-covered bench, and Mr. Biker takes a seat, spreading his legs and his arms out wide as if he owns the place. His confidence outmatches my own, making me uneasy.

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, sashaying over to the small bar stocked with the basics.

“No, thanks.”

I turn. “Just a dance, then?”

“Sure.” His tone is so nonchalant, like this whole thing is my idea and he’s just along for the ride.

But I’m here to do a job, so I close my eyes for a second, listening to the music and allowing it to flow through me. My hips sway of their own accord, and I begin to dance. This is the only part I like about being a stripper. I’m a dancer. It’s in my blood, my marrow, my DNA. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, all I’ve ever been good at.

When my eyes open, my poise has returned. I move closer to him, filling the space between his legs. Running my hands down his thighs, I squat down, my hips rocking side to side. There’s nothing but solid muscle under my palms that flexes with my touch. As I come back up, I bend forward and stick my ass out, my breasts running over his crotch, up his torso, and further until they’re right in front of his face.

At this point, my customers are usually asking if they can touch, but Mr. Biker keeps his hands fisted on the back of the bench. I twirl around, once again squatting, only to slowly lift my ass in the air, bending in half. I twerk, making my cheeks bounce and move in a way that makes most men think of what it would look like if they were pounding into me from behind.

Still, he gives me no reaction. What’s this guy’s deal?

CHAPTER THREE

LUCKY

It’s taking everything in me not to grab handfuls of her ass and bury my face in her crack. My mind and body are battling, and I can’t say for sure who’ll win. If my mind does, I’ll stop this dance right now and tell Tinleigh why I’m here, but if my dick has anything to say about it, I’ll wait until after the dance is over.

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