Page 51 of The Heartbreaker
Since my chin was still resting over my shoulder, I left him and scanned the audience, giving them a wink before I walked to the pole. The song—something I’d chosen at the beginning of the night—had only about two minutes left. I needed to earn at least a few hundred, and the way to do that was to straddle the metal and climb to the top before slowly swinging all the way to the bottom.
Never had I thought, during all the years Leah and I had been taking biweekly pole workout classes, it would give me the experience I needed for this job. But here I was, looking like an expert to these men.
Once I reached the highest part of the pole, I held on with my legs and bent backward until my head was pointed at the ground, using gravity to bring me to the floor.
But not quickly.
I kept my legs intertwined, allowing the music to guide my moves, and I gradually lowered. Once I reached the ground, I stayed on my back, and I held my lower body high. I swivel-kicked the air, clapping my heels together, followed by my thighs, before I rolled over, pointing my butt upward to straddle the pole from behind.
I could sense what every man in this room was thinking as they watched me.
It was as though I were inside each of their heads.
And I used those thoughts as fuel while I bucked my hips and bit my lip, forcing the fake pleasure to spread across my face. The pole slapped my ass with each thrust, as though it were a man positioned in doggy style.
That was the fantasy I wanted to create.
Because the more I satisfied these men, the more cash they tossed onto the stage.
Stripping, I had learned, was a cat-and-mouse chase, except the cat never caught the mouse.
But as I crawled toward the middle of the stage, eyeing Ridge, I realized how that wasn’t true.
He had caught me.
He just couldn’t keep me.
And now, we were here again, his eyes devouring me, his tongue circling his mouth as though he were between my legs, one hand gripping his cocktail and the other the armrest of his chair, like they were somewhere on my body.
With a stare that made me feel as if we were the only people in this room.
A gaze so strong and overwhelming that I almost didn’t hear the song end, or hear the DJ saying my name, or see the security guard moving around the edge of the stage to collect my money. When the security guard finished, he stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand out, waiting for me to clasp it to escort me down the steps.
As soon as I finished, I got onto my feet and slipped my arms through the straps of my bra, hooking it in the back. I acceptedthe security guard’s fingers and walked down the short flight, taking the cash he handed to me once I reached the floor. I tucked the thick wad into my bra and weaved my way through the main area, a sultry grin on my face to entice this hungry audience. I wasn’t more than a few paces past the stage when I felt a gentle swipe across my thigh.
It was so light that it could have been a feather.
But I knew it wasn’t because the feeling was so achingly familiar. So was the texture of his skin and the level of his heat—two things I could never forget.
Two things I had thought about since I’d left his house.
His touch impacted me in a way that made me stop and glance down, meeting Ridge’s seductive stare.
I’d been so far inside my head that I didn’t realize I’d reached the center of the main lounge, where he was stationed, his hand still raised from the armrest, his pointer finger triggered, showing me that was the one he’d used to touch me.
Those fingers. My God. They are … magic.
“Going somewhere important?” he asked.
“No.” My smile faded, my eyes narrowing at him. “I’m just … going.”
Except I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
“If you’re going, as in leaving, it’d better be with me.”
I laughed—a reaction that was easier, that came with less pressure, than saying words.
