Page 85 of Forsaken Oath

I’ve never been to a private room in a strip club before, but I kind of expected it to be . . . more than this. Maybe that’s why this room was open.

Beau strides over to the black leather chaise and sinks down onto it, the material creaking slightly under his weight. He leans back, one arm draped casually over the backrest as he watches me with hooded eyes.

“Come here, Peach,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly in the intimate space.

I swallow hard, my feet carrying me toward him as if pulled by an invisible string. The room suddenly feels charged, the air heavy with unspoken desires. When I reach him, Beau’s hands find my hips, his thumbs brushing teasing circles over the jut of my hip bones through the thin fabric of my dress. He tugs me closer until I’m standing between his spread legs, my knees bumping against the edge of the chaise.

“Beau,” I whisper, my voice breathy to my own ears. “What are we doing?”

A wicked half-smile curves his lips as he gazes up at me through his lashes. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” It startles me to realize that I mean it.

“Good, baby. That’s real good.” His fingertips skim up my arms, hooking around the skinny strap of my sundress, and letting them fall off my shoulders. The fabric pools around my waist, revealing the lacy balconette bra underneath. Beau's eyes darken as they roam over my exposed skin, his thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts.

“We need to act like we’re using this private room,” he murmurs, voice pitched low and rough with desire. “Make them think I bought a private dance. Because those cops? They’re going to look, baby. Either they’re part of the race or someone’s playing dirty.”

I arch a brow. “Sabotage?”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, his hands spanning the sides of my ribcage.

His touch is distracting me. “Maybe I bought a private dance from you.”

He leans forward and plants a soft kiss to the space between my breasts. “If we were at a different kind of club, definitely. ButThe Velvet Room is girls only, Peach. Don’t worry, though, I’ll give you a private dance anytime you want. Just say the word.”

I huff a laugh, my hand landing on his shoulder. There’s some truth in his idea, and it’s not a bad strategy.

I bite my lip, heat rushing through me at his words. The idea of Beau giving me a private dance sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. But he’s right. We need to make this look convincing if we want to avoid suspicion.

“Okay,” I breathe out. “Tell me what to do.”

His eyes flash with dark promise as his hands skim down to my hips. In one smooth motion, he tugs me forward until I’m straddling his lap, my knees bracketing his hips on the chaise. I gasp softly at the sudden change in position, my hands flying to Beau’s shoulders for balance. The thick ridge of his cock presses insistently against my core, separated only by the couple layers of our clothing. Beau's hands settle on my hips, his grip firm and possessive.

“Just pretend like we’re alone, yeah?” he murmurs before capturing my lips in a searing kiss. “Do whatever feels good, Peach.”

I melt into him, my fingers threading into his hair as I return the kiss with equal fervor. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tangling with mine in a sensual dance that has me moaning into the kiss.

His hands roam my body, skimming up my sides to cup my breasts through the lacy fabric of my bra. His thumbs brush over my nipples, already pebbled with arousal, and I arch into his touch with a soft gasp. He rolls the sensitive buds between his fingers, teasing and plucking until I’m squirming in his lap, rocking my hips to seek some friction against the ache building between my thighs.

“That’s it, Peach,” he groans against my lips. “Just like that.”

“God, that feels good.” I tip my head back with a breathy moan, arching my back and pushing my tits further into his hands.

He chuckles, this low sound of approval. “There’s my greedy girl.”

My lips part, a request for his mouth on the tip of my tongue. But Beau Carter is a fast learner, and I don’t need to remind him of anything. He lowers his head, his hot breath fanning across my skin as he peppers kisses along the tops of my breasts. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him close as he explores with his lips and tongue.

He nuzzles the lacy edge of my bra, his nose nudging the fabric down to expose more of my flesh to his hungry gaze. “Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, reverence lacing every word.

Then his mouth is on me, wet heat enveloping my nipple through the thin lace. I cry out, my back arching as pleasure zings through my nerve endings. His tongue swirls around the tight bud before he sucks it into his mouth, his teeth grazing ever so lightly.

“Beau,” I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Oh god . . .”

He makes a low, approving sound in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to my clit. I rock my hips against him, seeking more delicious friction as he lavishes my breasts with attention. He releases one nipple and moves to the other, licking and suckling, driving me wild with need. Every pull of his mouth sends a jolt of electric arousal straight to my core.

The rough lace of my bra combined with his hot mouth is exquisite torture, keeping me right on the knife’s edge. When I feel myself climbing that exquisite path to oblivion, I slow my hips down and lean back.

“Are you okay?” Beau asks instantly, lips swollen from all the attention he’s given my nipples.

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