Get Your Sexy On
Kensington Aphrodisia ♦ September 30, 2008
Tell Me What You Want…
The men crowd in and howl for more when Sin’s on stage—she knows just how to work it, wrapping her lithe body around the pole to dance down and dirty. But Sin doesn’t see them, lost in a world of her own…until sexy private investigator “Mac” Garret McAllister steps into the club.
…What you really really want
In one night of erotic passion, the man turns her inside out and her world upside down. Mac pays homage to her beautiful body with delicious, carnal ferocity. When the sun comes up, she cuts out. She can’t let him get too close to her heart…But two years later, they reunite. Still on fire for her, Mac is ready to do whatever it takes to ensure his woman stays right where she belongs—in his arms and his bed. Forever this time.
Sienna took a deep breath and slowly released the pent up air in a small puff.
She hadn’t had to do a lap dance in a long time, but since Damian wanted to prove a point, that she was totally under his dominance, she had to swallow what little pride she had and do what she had to do. She’d do anything to keep her brother safe. She was all he had.
Her eyes searched the crowd for Damian, but didn’t see him. But she knew his eyes were on her, somewhere.
No doubt he was watching her across the room behind one of his “special” two way mirrors, getting his laugh on, knowing how much she hated this.
She surveyed the crowded throng of men and slowly threaded her way through the club. She heard the murmurings from some of the club’s regulars, surprised to see she was on the floor. She hadn’t had to work it, hadn’t had to do any lap dances for a long time.
She also caught the surprised—and mocking—glances of several of the dancers in response to her arrival on the floor. She stiffened her back, plastered a purposeful half-smile on her face and lazily surveyed the men.
“Come on over here, baby doll and come sit on daddy’s lap.”
Sienna glanced down and kept her face casually disinterested, careful not to show her disgust at the groping man’s hands roaming her ass.
“I don’t need a daddy, sugar, been there done that. Now, if you want my time, the money’s gotta be right,” she purred, trying, unsuccessfully, to pluck his meaty hands away from her body.
“Oh I got the dollas, baby, you better believe that. Now come on over here and sit that fine ass down on my lap. Be a good girl and give daddy a dance.”
He grabbed her, circling her wrist with one beefy hand. Caught off balance on her stilettos Sienna landed, hard, in his lap.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get this chance. To think I almost let my wife nag me into staying home with her instead,” he breathed the comment alongside her neck, his hot, whiskey and cigarette breath nearly singeing the fine hairs alongside the nape of her neck, beneath her wig.
She tried hard not to cringe at the way he slurred his words, asking her to sit in his lap—his dick already hard and pointing straight at her—along with his creepy reference that he was her daddy.
God, Damian knew just what to do, to humiliate her, Sienna thought. He knew she hated this part of stripping more than anything.
She swallowed, and closed her eyes, allowing her body to take over and forcing her mind away from what she was doing. What she had to do.
She was starting to bounce on his lap when she felt a hand cover her hand, calmly removing the drunk’s beefy hand from around her wrist.
Startled, her eyes flew open.
“I believe the lady promised this dance to me,” a deep baritone voice intoned with little inflection.
Sienna glanced up swiftly. Her gaze slowly traveled up a long, hard body, settling on a stern face she’d come to look for in the crowd over the last week.
Her heart beat quickened. It was him. The man she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind, the one she’d been dancing for, him and him alone, over the last week, hoping she’d see him again, yet praying he wouldn’t come back.
Ignoring the drunk’s protest with a hard look, the man calmly lifted Sienna off his lap, tucked her under his arm, and led her away to a darker, more secluded area of the club.
Quiet, unnerved by not only his presence but his overall masculinity, Sienna allowed him to lead her. He sat down and held out a hand. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his and looked into his eyes. Although she knew he was asking for her to dance for him, it seemed as though he wanted something more.
By taking his hand, she was agreeing to give him what he wanted.
“I’m sure one of the other girls would be much better at this. It’s been a while for me,” Sienna whispered, her eyes trained on the full sensual curve of his hard mouth.
Her gaze traveled over his angular face, taking in his deep-set, grey eyes, framed by short thick lashes, before traveling down his aquiline nose, full sensual hard mouth, ending at his squared chin which held the faintest hint of a cleft.
His thick sable-brown hair was cut close to his finely shaped head, tapering to almost skin past his ears. If not for the slightly longer length on top, he could be a poster boy for the Marines Corp.
“This isn’t something you do often?” he asked, sitting further back in his seat, settling her on his lap.
“No, I don’t. At least not in a while. I dance on the stage, occasionally do the smaller stages, but that’s it.”
She forced the words out of her mouth, straddling his hard thighs, trying her best to concentrate on dancing for him, and not get caught up in the erotic fantasies she’d had going on about him over the last week.
“What’s your name?” he murmured catching her off guard with the question.
“Sinful Feathers. Sin.”
“No. Your real name.”
She began to dance, slowly gyrating her hips, rolling her buttocks along his jean-covered, hard thighs.
Sienna never gave her real name to anyone at the club. It was such an intimate thing—as crazy as it sounded considering she shed her clothes, regularly, for scores of men.
“Mine’s Garret. Garret McAllister. Friends call me Mac,” he gave her his name, although she hadn’t asked.
Just as she used a spin off her real name to give her emotional distance, she’d never wanted to know the names of the men she danced for. She needed the space, and with this man, she definitely didn’t want to know his name. She didn’t want to feel as though this were anything more than it was. A dancer providing a service for a client. Nothing more, nothing less.
He waited for her to respond. Instead, she turned her head away from his piercing gaze and continued to move her body in time to the music.
She glanced around the room, feeling as though everyone were staring at them.
No one was giving them any more notice than any of the other dancers performing one-on-one’s for the male clientele.
“It’s just you and me, Sin, it’s just the two of us, alone. Forget about everybody else.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t just forget they’re there, watching.” Sienna felt as though everyone was watching her as she straddled his hard thighs, riding him. She carefully avoided his hardening shaft thumping against her belly.
“Yes, you can. It’s just you and me.”
The burdening weight of a thousand pairs of eyes seemed to mock her. She tucked her head against his chest in shame.
“No,” she whispered.
Ignoring the club rule of no touching, he placed both hands on her waist and centered her directly on his shaft. He then did the unthinkable. He snaked his tongue out and gently swiped at the seam of her lips.
Her nipples rasped against the rough material of his blazer, spiking in arousal. Her vagina clenched each time she came into scorching contact with the bulge lying beneath his zipper, despite her intent to avoid it.
The music playing was a slow, sensual beat. Sienna reveled in the rhythm and closed her eyes.
Sienna forgot about who might or might not be looking at them. Daringly, she stuck out her tongue and engaged in a short duel with his, lapping the wet tip against his before retreating back into her mouth.
“You can,” he insisted, gruffly.
With those words, that short kiss and the hot feel of his shaft knifing against the seam of her vagina, Sienna felt the unmistakable beginnings of an orgasm shake her quivering body.
“Oh god. I can’t believe this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t do this. I—”