Page 1 of Resist
Age is just a number.
Lucas was pleasuring himself inthe stairwell when I first laid eyes upon him. Taut, slick muscles tense with self-indulgence as he slowly worked his cupped hand up and down his cock. I opened my mouth, ready to object to his actions in a public place but instead paused, unable to look away as he tilted his head back, eyelids pressed shut while twitching.
Pleasure pinched deep within my body, and I clamped my bottom lip between my teeth. His oiled skin held a caramel glow, and his light brown hair was flecked with golden hues that caught the light with each jerking movement he made. Everything about him was deliciously herculean, and if I weren’t roughly twenty years his senior, I’d have propped myself against the concrete wall and enjoyed the show a while longer.
“Come on,” he grunted, the speed of his cupped hand increasing. “Yeah, that’s it, almost … there.”
Frustration ground his teeth together and crinkled his nose, and my God his facial features were beautiful yet virile and vexed.
Swallowing, I quietly stepped back, careful not to tap the five-inch heel of my stiletto on the step behind me. Lucas was the baby and newest member of Wild Nights Male Revue, and knowing I shouldn’t bear witness to what he was doing, I cleared my throat just as his shoulders tensed and his hips jerked.
Cum shot into his hand, and the guttural growl that left his body vibrated right through me, leaving my fingertips tingling. I swallowed for a second time right before startled, greyish blue eyes found mine, a soft red glow emanating from his cheeks.
“What the fuck?” Lucas turned to face the wall, grabbed the small white towel dangling from the waistband of his trousers, and wiped his hands, his head rotating every other second to glance back at me. “You’re not supposed to be back here. It’s a restricted area. You need to leave.”
I almost smiled. Almost. But quickly composed myself by brushing my hands down the front of my navy skirt to smooth any creases before standing straight and crossing my arms over my chest, my perfectly manicured eyebrow cocked with supremacy. “I’m sorry, but I have every right to be here, Lucas.”
“What?” He furrowed his brow as he tucked himself back into his pants, fumbling with the zip. “What do you mean you have every right to be here?”
This time I did smile, but it was far from friendly. “I’m Helena, your new boss.”
Lucas’s eyes widened, and hestuttered, “Oh, er … hi.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
I stared at his open palm that had just been coated in his release and not so kindly declined. “May I ask what in God’s name you think you are doing?”
His body stiffened, and he retracted his hand, placing them both behind his back as if he were a soldier standing to attention. “I’m … um … I’m preparing to go on stage.”
“You call that preparing?”
“Well, yeah. It helps prevent stage cock.”
“Stage what?”
A humorous glint found his eyes and he relaxed enough to chuckle. “It’s Bugs’ term for an erection on stage.”
I blinked and shook my head. “Who the hell is Bugs?”
“Uh … Josh.” Lucas narrowed his eyes, his expression blatantly questioning my intellect.
I didn’t appreciate his disrespectful attitude, so I preened my neck and pointed at him. “Listen, I don’t care whose term it is or what it’s called. What I care about is why you weren’t doing it in the privacy of your change room.”
His face tightened, but then he sighed and leaned against the wall before dropping his head to his hands. “Because I can’t do it in front of the other guys.”
“W … why not?”
“I don’t know, I just can’t.”
“Well …” I hesitated, taken aback by his sensitivity. “You better get your shit together and figure it out, because this,” I said, gesturing to him and where he’d just jerked himself off, “isn’t going to happen again. Do you understand me? Anyone could’ve seen you, and that’s not the type of publicity I want for my revue.”
His body grew rigid once again. “Right. Yes. Sorry.”
I went to leave when he ran his hand through his hair, his biceps plump and unabashed. “I’m sorry, Helena. I just … the guys said it wasn’t good to be hard on stage. It’s not professional. This is my first tour with them, and I’m still learn—”
“Just don’t do it again,” I snapped, turning on my heel and cutting him short.
Remorse clenched at my chest and I hated it. A successful businesswoman shouldn’t feel remorse toward an employee who’d done wrong. It was a sign of weakness in an industry dominated by man, and I wasn’t weak. But I was human, and I did have a heart albeit a severely damaged one.
Closing my eyes for the smallest of seconds and sucking in a deep breath, I placed my hand on the exit door handle, paused then looked back at him. “For what it’s worth, it’snota bad thing to be hard on stage. Women like hard men. It’s what they want to see.”
