Page 21 of Who's Your Daddy?

“Hmm.” She catches her lower lip between her teeth, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Can I interest you in something...a little more fun?”

Her suggestive tone tells me exactly what she means by fun. I didn’t know Grit was that kind of club. Usually, customers aren’t even allowed to touch the dancers, yet there seems to be a full menu here.

I’ve only ever paid for sex once. It was the night Scott and I turned over our V-cards to two escorts. We didn’t want to embarrass ourselves with a girl we liked for our first time, so we chose women we would never have to see again. Not my proudest moment, but we were young at the time.

“I don’t pay for sex,” I say.

“Who said anything about paying?” She winks at me. “We can give you a show now, but if you want some real action...we get off at one.”

I smile at her not-so-subtle suggestion. “We?”

Her fingertips trace up my thigh again. “You look like you could handle both of us.”

It’s not like I’ve never been propositioned by a woman before. I just don’t think it’s ever been this direct or this...fast. It makes me question their motives and whether that lustful smirk on her face is genuine. I don’t overanalyze it, though. I simply tell her that I’ll take the lap dance for now, and we’ll leave the possibilities open for later.

She stands up and walks over to her friend. They share a kiss, tongue and everything, before they begin a slow, erotic dance. They gyrate on each other and touch each other in very intimate places. It’s dirty and sexy and salacious, yet I’m still kinda bored. This is everything I wanted to see tonight...but it does absolutely nothing for me because my mind is somewhere else.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Very.”

It was the eager innocence in her voice, the way her body trembled beneath my touch, the way her breath caught when I dipped my head between her legs – it was all those things that made me insatiable.

“Do I make your heart race?”

“Yes.”

My thoughts have all been transported back to my beach house. These memories have been playing on my mind for almost three full days now. She left me with this nagging, irrepressible craving for more.

“Do I make you wet?”

“Yes.”

And, fuck, she was so wet. The way she felt when I slipped inside her. The—

Imogen straddles my hips, yanking me right out of my daydream and power-slamming me right back into the present. I must be tripping. Two sexy women are dancing in front of me, both in the process of undressing, and I’m fantasizing about someone else. She grinds against me, and my body stiffens, rejecting the feeling entirely.

“Uh...” How do I break this to them? “Sorry...I need to...go to the bathroom.”

I shift forward, urging her off me. She seems surprised but doesn’t argue. I pay them double because it’s not their fault. They’re just trying to do their jobs. It’s my body that’s being...uncooperative.

I leave in haste and stop right outside the thick velvet curtain to recalibrate. I take one breath...then two...then stop breathing altogether when something silver at the corner of my eye catches my attention.

No.

It can’t be.

I squint, trying to get a better look in this light to make sure I’m not seeing things.

I’m not.

It’s her.

The woman who gave me the most sensual sex of my life then left me high and dry the next morning. The one who sentenced me to restless nights that inevitably end with wet dreams. The one who sent my brain into a death spiral trying to figure out why she disappeared.

Right now, she’s got my brain doing double back flips because the dress she’s wearing is fucking with my head in the worst way. It’s a silver single-strap cocktail dress bedazzled with rhinestones, and it flaunts all her assets. The V in the front accentuates the perkiness of her tits. The slit going up her left thigh shows off the leanness of her long legs. Her hair’s up, exposing the soft contours of her neck and shoulders. Overall, there is just way too much skin on display.

I want to march over there and cover her up, but at the same time, I want to march over there and strip her naked. My feet involuntarily start moving, closing the gap between us, and it’s unclear which one of those options I’ll settle on when I reach her.

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