Page 14 of That Girl is Trouble

“I’m Kitty.”

“Your real name.”

Men always want to know that. As if knowing the name on my birth certificate gives them some sort of power over me. Like pulling that revelation from me makes them special. It gives them something more, some way to convince themselves that they’re not paying for my time.

Scooting back on his lap, I let my fingers wander up his chest and whisper close to his ear. “That’s extra.”

A stiffness of sorts slides over his body. He’s no doubt doing what all men do when I get this close—trying desperately to conceal the stiffness that’s started to push its way into his pants. Pulling away, I smile.

He returns the expression and asks, “How much for a dance?”

My stomach flutters a little like the way it used to when I was with Jesse. Like it did those nights when I was with Axe. Being in this place, having this power, it’s almost as good as what they made me feel.

Almost.

I arch a brow and shift in his lap. He grips my waist with both hands, catching me before I can wiggle myself closer to his groin. “Here? Twenty. Up there,” I say, jerking my head towards the staircase leading up to Heaven. “Fifty.”

He tilts his head. “No discount, Kitty? With a face like mine?”

I shrug. “I don’t set the price.”

“How do I know you’re worth it? How about a freebie down here?” There it is. The freebie. Guys like Mr. Jock come here to put their hands on a pretty girl, even when they know it’s against the rules. And when they decide to pay up, they like a little extra. One of those forbidden things that happens in the shrouded nooks of this sinful little slice of Eden Hills.

And I’m not the one to be asking about anything extra.

“Nothing is free.” I toss him another smile, and he shifts me farther from his crotch. “But I can give you a sample.” I lean closer again and let my breasts press against his chest. “You sure you want that, though? Out here in the open?” I make a show of dropping my attention to the bulge growing between us.

He clears his throat and glances at his friends. “Fifty, uh, sounds fine.”

Satisfied, I push up, shielding him a little so he can adjust. So he can hide how much he wants me. It’s courteous, Jade tells me, letting them fix themselves, pretending you don’t see it. Like me, Jade isn’t one of the girls who gives something extra, but feeling something hard against your thigh when you’re mid-dance kind of comes with the territory.

I guide him forward, pulling on his hand playfully on my way up the stairs. The bass of the music thrums in my chest as we walk towards one of the private rooms, but it’s my pulse making me vibrate. There’s a heat on my skin—another one of those heavy stares on my back as I tug on Jake the Jock’s hand.

But this stare feels different. Possessive. I know it’s impossible to sense a stranger’s eyes on me like this, but sometimes, I swear it’s real. There’s a tingle on my skin, a brush over my collarbone, a ghost of a kiss on my neck. It’s there—an invisible hand sliding over my body. And tonight, it’s so strong it pushes a shiver up my spine.

I quicken my pace, pulling Jake along, using his body to shield me from the added scrutiny.

The rooms in Heaven are small, with a pole on a platform raised in the centre of each. The walls are painted black, and three out of the four of them are lined with small black leather couches. Purple and red lighting illuminate the space. A dark curtain hangs over the opening. No doors—another way to deter any forbidden extras the girls who work here might want to offer.

I push Jake the Jock onto the couch facing the closed curtain and step back. “What do you want, Jake?” I ask.

“A name. Your real one.”

“How many songs?” I lift a brow and saunter closer.

His eyes steady on my tits, and he smiles. “Two. Tell me.”

“Four and we got a deal,” I say, planting a knee on either side of his thighs. Four songs, sixteen minutes, two hundred bucks. Jackpot.

Jake swallows, his hips arching up as he digs for his wallet to pull out a wad of cash. I stick the bills in the hidden pocket in my skirt and lower myself so I’m flush against his legs, straddling him. “I’m Kat.”

“Kitty Kat,” he says.

Kitty Kat. I pause for a second, my mind taking off without my permission. Jesse gave me the name, and it just sort of stuck. It’s what every Sinner I spent my Sunday nights eating dinner with called me. The people I’d started to think of as my family.

The name sends a tremor through my chest, and Axe’s deep voice momentarily clouds my mind. Easy, Kitty, he’d say. Watch that tone, Kitty Kat. My name always sounded so good on those lips.

“You okay, pretty girl?” he asks. “Not your first time, is it?”

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