Page 56 of Claiming Atlas

I reach up and run my hand up her thigh. Her skin is soft and cool, and I wish I could see it right now. I wish I could seeherright now. I’ve wanted to see nothingbuther all day.

She slides her hand to my throat and pulls my earlobe into her mouth and I nearly groan. “Enjoy the show.”

And with that, she’s gone.

I press my dick down and try to close my legs in case the lights flip back on right now, then realize there’s no hiding this fucking boner, so I quickly tuck it up into the waist of my pants and pray no one sees the bulge. I button my sport coat when I stand. That’s the best I can do.

Inhaling deeply through my nose, I strain to see in the pitch darkness of this room.

My dick throbs, begging for release. Begging for Kayla.

Five spotlights turn on in the center of the circle of guests, illuminating five long sheets of thick, shiny white fabric as they drop down from the ceiling.

A group of at least a dozen or more women emerge from the shadows.

They all wear black lace bras and matching lace panties, with bare feet, yet even without six inch heels, their bodies are long and lean.

I recognize the blonde closest to me immediately. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since those perfect stems were wrapped around my head. She’s wearing a wig, and her makeup is ten times thicker than last night, but I’m looking at the hottest chick in all of Las Vegas.

Kincaid Summers.

Kayla.

My Kayla.

The woman who made me break three rules in one night.

I take the final sip of my drink, then look around for a waitress. Everything behind me is still pitch black, so I can’t see the wait staff, but when I raise my empty glass in the air, I hope they see me. Kayla and the other women start to swing around on the long sheets of fabric, and as I watch her body in motion, watch the muscles in her legs tighten and strain as she climbs the fabric, it takes all of my willpower not to jump up and join her out there in the center of the room. They came for a show, and we could give them one hell of a performance.

I’ve never wanted to go back for seconds like I do with Kayla.

And thirds.

And fourths.

And, fuck me, when she starts to climb that fabric like a stripper pole, I focus on the muscles in those long ass legs, and remember the way they looked wrapped around me or sprawled out on my bed. When she bends backwards and meets my gaze for the first time since the lights went on, I know I’m completely fucked.

I’ll break every single rule for this woman, over and over again.

---