Strip for Me: A One Night Stand, Instalove Romance

Book 1: The Heat Series

by GEORGIA COFFMAN

Genres: Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

I only go to Vegas for my sister’s bachelorette party. I don’t expect to fall for a stranger.

We share one blissful night together. No last names, phone numbers, or feelings.

Yet, when our paths cross again, I can’t say no to the heat between us.

Our chemistry is intense. Palpable. Life-changing.

My traditional family believes moving to LA has corrupted me, but the truth is, they’ve never approved of my life choices. It’s never bothered me, either—until I met Sebastian.

It was one thing to be with him in Vegas during a wild weekend and another story entirely to invite him into my life. How can I take him to meet my parents? They'd never accept him.

After all, he's an exotic dancer for the hottest show in Vegas.

Can our one night turn into forever?

*Note: Falling for a Stranger was previously titled Strip for Me.

Release date: October 15, 2019

Publisher: Georgia Coffman

Print pages: 406

Sample

Chapter 1

SEBASTIAN

            Thunder claps through the speakers.

            Sounds of rain mix with the thunder as the curtain slowly parts.

Show time.

My adrenaline spikes as I count down to the start of our routine.  

I take a deep breath as the music builds, followed by screams from the crowd. Ty and the rest of the guys surround me as we take steps forward, moving slowly and purposefully.

“It’s Raining Men” blares through the speakers, and the lights blind me. They’re my least favorite part of each show. They keep me from seeing the crowd and the excitement on their faces.

I wave my arms up to the beat, then squat before ripping off my pants, leaving me in just a bow tie and spandex shorts. Women yell variations of, “Come to Mama,” and “Work it this way, baby!”

I smile wider and try not to squint. Leo, our coach, told me I squint a lot because of the lights, and it makes me look constipated.

“That’s not sexy, and women want sexy,” he said at the time.

I countered, “But it’s my signature smolder look.”

He just shook his head but smiled.

As the first song comes to an end, we get into two lines, one in front of the other. I hold out my hands to Jordan, a nineteen-year-old with wavy hair parted to one side and a smooth face. He’s probably what I looked like when I started eight years ago—wrinkle-free. But he has dimples to boot.

Jordan braces himself on my shoulders with one foot in my hands. When it’s our turn, I assist in his backflip and clap in encouragement at his perfect dismount. If this were a gymnastics meet, judges would raise 10s all around.

During the next number, “Feel the Thunder,” sweat runs down my chest, intertwining with the rose tattoo on my pec. We disperse throughout the crowd, gyrating in every direction until we find girls to dance with.

I need a minute to adjust to the darkness of this half of the room, but I refrain from rubbing my eyes.

Once my vision clears, I see a few women wave at each of us to come hither, while others hide their faces in their hands. The latter group makes me smile because, even though they seem embarrassed to be here, it’s usually a pretense. By the end of the show, they tend to let loose and join in on the fun.

I wink at a few, scanning the crowd for my lucky pick.

We all have our type. Leo goes for the young, petite women. Easier to flip them around like rag dolls. His acrobatic moves in such a small space are impressive, to say the least, and drive the crowd wild every time.

Ty usually goes for the loose, fun ones. We can always tell them apart from the uptight ones who were dragged out by majority rule. On cue, from the corner of my eye, Ty finds one whose nipple is an inch from exposure in her cutout top.

I chuckle to myself and spin, never missing a beat as I move my hips while girls fan themselves. I keep looking around, unable to settle on one woman in particular. My type is a little more complicated than the rest of the guys.

My chest heaves as I spin again and lean forward, coming face-to-face with a beautiful girl with blond hair and mouth agape.

Her wide eyes and plump lips.

Yoga pants and a simple cropped tank.

She’s my type.

A girl-next-door type with eyes that hold a lot more than innocent thoughts, judging by the way she’s eye-fucking me.

My step falters only slightly. As I regain my composure, I immediately know she’s my pick for the night.

As I grind on her, the moves come naturally, having done this routine a million times. Which is a good thing because it’s hard to completely focus in her presence with her looking at me like that.

I lick my lips, taking her in as she watches me curiously. Others usually paw at me or whisper crude comments in my ear, but she doesn’t move or say anything.

Her hair hangs loosely over her bare shoulders, covering one side of her face. It’s tousled like she just rolled out of bed.

It’s fucking sexy as hell.

My heart beats a little faster, and it’s not from my dancing.

I grin widely as I motion for her to get up. Her expression transforms, panic seizing her eyes instead of lust, before she screams, “No fucking way!” She’s reluctant, but her group cheers her on. One even pulls her up by the arm like she’s a child being forced to go to the doctor.

She gives that one a scowl and another one a middle finger, which makes me laugh and intrigues me further.

I climb onto the small table where she and her group sit, then help her up too. I spin her around so we’re face-to-face. She’s tense, refusing to move her hips, but I welcome the challenge.

I can tell she’s got some spunk in her, and I want to see it.

After all, it takes balls to come out to the Strip in yoga pants, especially when the rest of her party is in sequins and so much dark eye makeup they look like raccoons.

I push her hair to one side, getting a large whiff of vanilla. Leaning in close, I’m careful not to burst her eardrum when I say, “I’ve got you.” With that, I hold her even closer and rub myself on her warm, toned body, starting low and working my way up as the table continues to cheer us on.

When I meet her eyes again, only one is peeking out from behind her hand—fucking adorable. I pull her hand down from her face, then spin her around. Now that her back is pressed against me, I repeat my previous motion.

But this time I have to fight the urge to groan as I feel her up.

Her perfect ass is firm and round, and it makes me want to bend her over and slap it a little.

This is a racy show—Vegas’s hottest male revue show, at that—but it’s not that kind of show.

So I grind my teeth, tamping down my urges—I’m a professional, damn it.

Her friends whistle, reminding me further to keep myself grounded and my mind out of the gutter. I will myself to think instead of something non-sexy, like Ty’s disgusting gym socks.

Or just Ty himself.

But it’s difficult once this girl finally loosens up and moves her hips in sync with mine.

I bite my lip and look up to the ceiling, begging for mercy as my cock strains against my shorts.

This kind of immediate arousal is foreign to me. I’m usually better at keeping myself at bay when it comes to sexy women at our male revue show, Naked Heat—especially after what happened the last time.

After her.

The song is almost over, and although I know I should let this be the end, let her walk away and out of my life, I can’t.

Perhaps it’s the simple boredom from my repetitive routine lately, but I ignore all logic knowing what happened the last time, why I set my rules in place to begin with. My very clear rules that forbid me to ask out women I meet at our shows.

My rules are meant to protect me.

Despite it all, I lean in with my hands firmly on her hips, enjoying the vanilla scent radiating from her hair like pheromones, intoxicating me and clouding my judgment. “Meet me after the show,” I say.

She turns around, uncertainty in her wide eyes.

But then, I catch a hint of mischief there too.

I gulp, my step faltering for the second time in her presence. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time—the moves are as natural to me as spinning on its axis is for Earth. Like neurons firing involuntarily. But this girl is causing nerve damage in my brain.

And I don’t even know her name—yet.

I continue my performance by some miracle, stealing glances in her direction the whole time. She’s drinking and clapping, watching my every move, curiosity consuming her features.

It fuels me to move just a little more sensually, a little more provocatively, like I’m giving her a private show. And when we end the next number, turned around with our asses bare, I’m not supposed to look back at the audience, but I chance it.

Her mouth hangs open.

My heart stops.

And I know I’m in trouble.

 

 

Chapter 2

KENDALL

I watch as the stripper who danced with me moves his sculpted body to the seductive music.

Veins pop out of his biceps as he holds his arms out. There are guys around my gym with veins bulging out of their biceps, their necks, even their fucking eyeballs. But this is different.

Natural.

Sexy.

Fucking turning me on.

When I first arrived, late and in my most casual outfit I own, I didn’t think this night would amount to anything exciting. Not with my bitchy sister and her lame friends, who are still sneering at my attire for her bachelorette party.

Even though I tried to explain that traffic was horrific and I didn’t have time to change, they still mocked. My sister Lauren was even more annoyed with me than when her kid dental patients won’t open their mouths for her to clean their teeth.

As annoyed as she was to come to a stripper show to begin with. Before we came in, I asked her why we were even here, and she robotically said, “Because this is a bachelorette party. Going to this kind of show is what you do.”

She covers her eyes now like she regrets her decision to be here. Like her Alabama church friends are lurking in the corner and judging her.

Thank God I moved to LA, away from them and my family’s prying eyes.

Now I can freely ogle shirtless men with their junk on display as often as I please, like right now.

Each guy comes back out into the crowd and dances on the tables again. As they do so, the other women share in my awe, except most are drunker than I am and are actually salivating.

One woman at the table next to us hasn’t stopped screaming profanities at one dancer in particular, one with a smooth face who makes me wonder if he’s old enough to be in Naked Heat to begin with. It’s probably his dimples that make him look so young, but his chocolate eyes and six-pack are definitely all man.

Another woman keeps standing up to pat the guys on their asses as they pass by. She sits down just as quickly so that if you blink, you might miss her.

But my eyes constantly roam to the one who danced with me. The one who licked his lips at the sight of me like it was an honor to be in my presence, lighting a spark in me I hadn’t felt in a long time. I even almost echoed the crude woman and yelled profanities at him too. I had an escape plan and everything—to point at Lauren.

God, the way he danced with me.

My heart races just thinking about it, imagining running my finger along the tattoo on his chest. It’s a simple rose on his pec, but I can’t read the writing that serves as the stem. I’d have to get closer—something I would not mind doing right about now.

He’s so hot even my prudish roommate Emma would seriously consider screwing him in the bathroom, like I am now.

I’m still staring at him on stage, not bothering to look away when he catches me. Then he disappears as a tall stripper in a caveman outfit pulls an older woman on stage. She’s wearing a birthday hat, and when he asks her what birthday she’s celebrating, she answers that it’s her sixty-fifth.

I double over in laughter at her horrified expression when the guy pulls off what little clothing he had on, leaving only a leopard print Speedo. As he grinds his dick in her face, Lauren glares in disapproval at my endless laughing. I shoot back, “You’re going to gain eight wrinkles at the edge of each eye if you keep this up all weekend.”

I watch my sexy stripper when he comes back out in his sailor costume, dancing like he was made to be on stage, like he owns the whole room. At the very end, he drops his pants once again and winks back in my direction.

I’m speechless. Frozen with my hands mid-clap. Fascinated by this guy I don’t even know—but want to.

To know how he is in bed, anyway.

He looks like he knows what he’s doing, which would be a nice change of pace for me. Haven’t had a good roll in the hay since… ever. Not even my ex, Adam, could give me what I wanted, and we were together for almost a year.

Then again, he was always too concerned about himself, in bed and out of it, to worry about what I really wanted.

At the end of the show, the emcee comes back, the one from the beginning who kept touching himself. He refrains from doing so now and instead encourages everyone to stay for pictures with the dancers.

The room quiets down, and I search for the tall guy with dark hair and a short, kempt beard lining his square jaw. The one with a teasing smile and sparkling brown eyes.

The one who lights me up like a cigarette, and I don’t even know his name.

The other guys are on stage, taking pictures with girls who are too eager to touch their biceps. The guys are good, never breaking character, never removing their smolders.

I inhale deeply as Lauren chatters away like a squawking parrot, tossing her long honey hair over her shoulder. At least her previous glare is now missing. All she needed was another martini and a shot to finally loosen up. I take a mental note for future reference, for when I need to wipe that resting bitch face off her, for not only my benefit but those around us too.

It’s information I should let her fiancé Rhett in on because in one month, he’s going to vow to spend the rest of his life with her.

As for me, I’m only buzzed, my tolerance much higher than hers and her friends’. Which is probably why I can’t stop thinking about the slow, sensual way that hunk of man ran his hands down my sides. The way he whispered in my ear and tickled me with his short beard. My face is hot thinking about feeling the length of him along my ass—and that was with clothes on.

I can’t imagine what it’d be like to feel him skin to skin.

I gasp quietly at the thought, covering my mouth.

Lauren’s old sorority sister Elaine bumps into me then. “You were hot dancing up there. And fun. You’re so fun. Especially when there are two of you.” She bursts out laughing, my eardrum taking a hit, but I’m relieved all is forgotten about my outfit.

They even stopped joking with me about waiting on people hand and foot for my job. “But oh wait, it’s just the foot.”

Because I work at a shoe store. How clever.

Because I’m not a trophy wife like most of them or a wife at all. Not even close.

Because I moved out of our suffocatingly small town and its even smaller minded culture that takes pity on me for not having a man—my parents included. Add it to the lengthy list of things they’re disappointed in me for.

Vodka shoots from Elaine’s nose and down the front of her purple blouse—this is the kind of crew I can get used to.

I laugh, wondering what’s so funny, but when my stripper enters my peripheral vision, the sea of people parting in his godly presence, I forget my entire existence. It’s his turn to take pictures now, and he’s wearing his pants again… unfortunately.

But fortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt.

His abs are on full display for my shameless perusal.

And his pants are riding so low, his strong V makes my insides tingly and heat creep down my spine.

He adjusts his bowtie around his neck, then tips his sailor hat in my direction as he gets into position on stage for pictures.

“Kendall.” I jerk around at the sound of my name and find my sister’s childhood friend Sam. “Let’s get a picture with your man! He’s right over there.” She tugs on Lauren’s arm. “You come too, bride-to-be.”

Lauren lets out a howling laugh as though the idea of being a bride is hilarious. It’s not, really, seeing as how she’s been waiting for this ever since she first went out with Rhett a year ago.

It was love at first sight.

A true southern fairy tale.

The perfect couple that even Mom and Dad approve of.

Barf.

The only reason we’re having her bachelorette party so early is because most of her bridesmaids only had this weekend free. Not that I’m complaining. I’m happy to have met this mysterious stripper sooner rather than later.

Sam sways to the right, dragging Lauren out of her seat, but she doesn’t have to drag or ask me twice.

I tuck a small strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly very aware that I’m underdressed compared to everyone else. But instead of cowering, I straighten my back and pull my short tank down so that my cleavage shows.

Game on.

It’s finally our turn, and I give the attendant twenty dollars for my pictures. When I turn, I’m met with a searing gaze from my stripper, and when his nostrils flare at me, I would’ve gladly given two hundred dollars just to watch him do that again.

As I approach him, he takes my hand and sits with one knee on the ground, setting me on the other.

“I’m happy you stayed,” he whispers, tickling my earlobe and sending shivers down my neck.

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to touch your abs.”

He chuckles, his minty breath mixed with faint cigarette smoke.

My face flushes at the idea of having a smoke. I stopped smoking so much after my ex and I ended things—he was the reason I picked it up in the first place. Since moving on and picking up a new habit of working out so regularly, I stopped.

But I could really use one now to settle these nerves of being in this guy’s presence.

We don’t make eye contact, smiling at the camera instead and waiting for Lauren and Sam to sit still. The photographer snaps the picture, but their shoulders still move up and down from their inability to quit laughing. They turn out blurry in the picture, but I tuck mine under my arm for safekeeping, anyway.

I tell myself it’s a keepsake for Emma to ogle shirtless men for once. Not for any personal reasons.

When we’re done, his hand leaves my exposed waist, but there’s a burning there that longs for more. I have an overwhelming need to sneak off with him to the bathroom stat.

But I keep walking in the opposite direction. Once I reach our table again, I take a big gulp of my drink as sexy thoughts of him and me getting it on in the bathroom take over. Watching ourselves in the mirror as he fucks me from behind.

Deep breaths.

As much as I want to ditch Lauren, I’d never hear the end of it. Especially if I left her for a stripper.

I shake my head. It’d be a bad idea from every angle, anyway. My vision is fogged by Captain Morgan and lust. I have no control and am way out of my league here. I’m normally more confident around guys. I’m usually the one giving them thoughts of doing me in the bathroom, not the other way around.

“Care for a lap dance?”

I pause, my knees buckling at the sound of his deep voice in my ear.

I down more of my drink, taking my time to swallow before I find my voice. “Um… actually, we… were just leaving. Weren’t we, Lauren?” I pull her toward me and frown at him. “Yeah, we have plans, so… we should really be going.”

I cringe at my weak voice, but I’m confident I’m making the right decision in trying to leave.

Lauren puts her arm around me and kisses my cheek. “You’re so cute, you know? I forgot how cute and funny you are.”

I stand back, shocked that she gave me a compliment and actually kissed me, like she’s forgotten all about her distaste for me. Alcohol really does change people. “Okay, I definitely think we should be going.”

“Even in your ridiculous cropped tank at my bachelorette party, you’re just so cute.”

Ah, there she is—the real Lauren.

I nudge her with my elbow to get up, but she doesn’t budge.

I don’t know where she gets the shot from, but Lauren takes one and holds the empty glass in the air. “Now who has a stick up their ass, huh?” She points at me. “No, we’re staying here all night and partying with McDreamy and McSteamy over there.” She points to two other strippers who wink in our direction. Her eyes aren’t even open.

Wide-eyed, I turn to my stripper, lifting my chin to meet his gaze as he towers over me. “I guess we’re partying with the cast of Grey’s Anatomy.” When I look back at Lauren, who has another shot—where are they coming from?—I shake my head and decide I don’t care. I need one too, so I just take hers. “Give me that.”

I throw back the shot, watching as he swallows like he’s the one drinking it, his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

“I’m Sebastian,” he says with a wide, knowing smile.

From up close, I can see his eyes are dark brown, almost as dark as his irises. A few freckles are sprinkled under his eyes and on his cheeks, giving him a boyish charm to his otherwise manly build.

A sexy combination.

I gulp—and it’s not because of the shot.

 

 

Chapter 3

SEBASTIAN

She quickly averts her gaze as she pulls at her short tank, like she’s suddenly nervous that I can see her belly button. “Can you smoke in here? I need a cigarette.”

I pat my bare chest, then lean forward and grip my own ass, which makes her lips part and my dick twitch. “Fresh out. Nowhere to put them.” I wink, her blush growing in front of my eyes as she watches me carefully.

It’s adorable. She’s adorable.

And hot.

I wrap a small piece of her hair around my finger, loving its velvety texture. “Am I ever going to get your name?”

“I need a better pickup line than that, dude.” She takes another gulp of her drink, staring at me through her long lashes. When she swallows, I’m mesmerized by her every movement, especially when she smiles in challenge.

I dwell on how she called me dude—I like it. I also like her faint southern accent, but she doesn’t look like the average southern belle. No hoity-toity outfit or attitude to match. This girl has a down-to-earth quality, an energy I can’t quite place, but she also has some city girl in her.

“Kendall,” someone says behind me, “you can’t hog him all for yourself. Share!”

It’s another girl from the bachelorette party, and what strikes me isn’t the way she drew out the word share to give it extra r’s and extra whine. Or that she’s now touching my bicep. What strikes me is that I finally got her name.

Kendall.

Kendall yanks on my other arm, surprising me with the amount of force coming from such a small person. Although, I shouldn’t have been that surprised. She clearly works out, judging from the definition in her arms as she tugs on me.

And from her legs. With those thin yoga pants, all I can see are legs. My dick throbs at the thought of them wrapped around me.

“He’s mine. Get your own, slut,” Kendall spits, which has me reeling. I can’t contain my laughter at the way these two are playing tug-of-war with me.

I say to them both, “There’s plenty to go around, ladies.”

Another girl with a “Bride-To-Be” sash around her and a tiara on her head comes over. She looks a lot like Kendall, although a little more petite and taller in her heels. She’s holding her hand up like we’re in class and she has a question.

“I want in.” Before I can move, the bride wraps her arms around my neck. “I like your sailor costume.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and the vodka on her breath reminds me of my bastard uncle. It was his drink of choice, always emptying water bottles and filling it with vodka.

But instead of going down memory lane straight to Hell, I smile as I always do. And just as I’m about to say something, Kendall stops me. Not with her words, but with her glare.

She’s not laughing.

In fact, she’s now giving her bride friend a scowl, and not the cute one she gave earlier, but a fatal one.

She looks legitimately pissed.

Chapter 4

KENDALL

            Now I’m pissed.

Lauren can’t have Sebastian. He’s my stripper.

But of course, she wants him to give her attention, just to take his attention off me. Why else would she leave the other one to waddle over here like a stupid penguin?

She can’t even handle her liquor.

She’s always wanted my stuff. Whether it was my shoes or lipstick, she’d take them without asking and not give them back for weeks, at which point she’d say they were hers all along.

The one time I inadvertently took something of hers, we ended up giving each other the cold shoulder. To this day.

And that was seven years ago.

I even tried apologizing back then, but she wouldn’t hear it. So I stopped trying. Stopped trying to apologize for that or any of my life choices since then.

I’m about to stalk off, but I can’t. I physically can’t move, dizzy just at the thought of making a dramatic exit. The alcohol fumes are clouding my vision, and the anger is fueling the fire.

Too bad I don’t have a cigarette to light with that flame.

Lauren rubs her hands over Sebastian’s chest, making matters worse, but then something smacks my right shoulder. It’s Sam, but it might as well have been reality.

Suddenly my vision clears, and I notice the other strippers leaning closely to giggling women who are batting their eyelashes.

Sebastian is also just doing his job by flirting and humoring drunken women.

The anger is just tied in with the liquor.

Well, and the fact that I want Sebastian to get naked with me.

Heat radiates between my legs. The intense physical attraction to him is almost more than I can handle. My need to feel the ultimate level of ecstasy is so extreme that I contemplate yanking him from Lauren. Maybe in doing so, Lauren will fall and break her nose.

I’m drunker than I thought.

I normally wish Lauren ill, but not to the extent of physical harm. It’s mostly for a large zit on her nose or added weight to cover her six-pack.

I’m about to go splash water on my face when Sebastian turns a sly eye to me. My eyebrows shoot up, meeting each other in confusion.

He gently pats Lauren’s arm as he whispers something to her. She covers her smile with one hand as she walks away, and I wonder what he said, jealous that it made her giddy while I glare.

He moves over to me and murmurs, “Where’d you go, huh?”

“I’m right here.” I shrug lazily.

He leans even closer and runs a hand through my hair, keeping it there like he can’t help but touch me. He says something else, but I can’t hear it. I’m too focused on how close he is to my face, mere inches, with a handful of my hair in his hand.

I part my lips, my fantasy coming true…

When he leans back, I curse that I was so close to feeling his lips on mine, the pool between my legs increasing the longer I’m in his presence.

Sebastian now has a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before. “I have an idea.” Is that what he said before? Letting go of my hair, he winks at me before getting his friend’s attention—his hot friend. If Sebastian wasn’t so damn sexy, I’d be making bedroom eyes at his dark friend with the tattoos covering his chest and arms.

Sebastian says something to him in hushed tones, where I can’t hear, so I take this opportunity to admire his lean torso, my need for control lost for a good half hour now.

I jump when his friend pulls back abruptly.

“Are you serious?” he asks. “Yes! I’ll text the other guys.” He high-fives Sebastian before smiling at Amber, my sister’s friend from high school. Bad choices are waiting for her to be made, and I couldn’t be happier for her to take advantage.

This is Vegas, after all.

“Get you some, bitch,” I call out to her.

Too drunk to scold me, she winks and pulls the guy closer.

“Let’s go out.” Sebastian wraps his arm around my waist, his hand resting on my lower back.

“We are out,” I say weakly.

“Somewhere better.” He’s only a few inches away, his manly cologne drawing me in further. “What do you say?”

I lick my lips, Sebastian watching my every move like he’s sketching me on his mind’s canvas.

I slowly nod, against all logic.

I agree to step into the ring for this little game that started when he pulled me up to dance with him.

As a slow smile spreads across his face, I know I’m playing with fire. I’m going to get burned like I did the last time I lost control. But I take his hand, anyway, telling myself that I know better. I’m more prepared now to protect myself.

I can play the game long enough to get the pleasure I’m after.

I can play with fire and win for one night.

Chapter 5

SEBASTIAN

            I’m breaking every one of my rules just by talking with her after the show. I vowed never again. Not after the Hell I went through the last time.

And now I’m asking her to go to a club? To drink and dance with me?

The similarities between her and my ex are too similar.

This can’t end well.

But Kendall is looking at me like she wants to climb on top of me. I’m two seconds from asking her back to my place, or to get a hotel room here. The latter being much faster.

But she’s here with a group, and I don’t want to tear her away from them. At least with us all going out, it’s a win-win.

Even Ty was surprised I suggested going out, since I hardly do that anymore. It has to be a special occasion to make me come out to the Strip, and even then, I’m a drag.

As I gather my things in the locker room, there aren’t many people left back here except for a couple of new guys gloating about the women they’re going to meet afterward.

Ty tells them to bring the girls to MGM with us, and they nod enthusiastically.

I shake my head and remember my beginner days when I was eager for everything. Eager to hang with the veteran dancers. Eager for the next fuck. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough pussy back then, but I sure as hell tried. With my job, I had an endless stream of it, so I indulged, picking off every dangling apple of temptation that I came across.

But I learned.

I learned it would’ve been the end of me had I continued the sleepless nights, threesomes, and drinking beyond consciousness night after night. I started missing workouts, coming late to practices, and getting wrapped up in more drama than Jersey Shore. Minding my own business and establishing boundaries have kept me not only in line with my job, but also sane.

I’m myself again.

At least partly, anyway.

“Dude, nice work with the bachelorette party.” Ty whistles, rubbing his hands together like he’s ready to put a plan into motion. “Found me a hot and desperate divorcée. Bet she’s never had chocolate dick before, but we’re about to change that.”

I nod, laughing at the stars in his eyes.

“And she used to be a cheerleader. A cheerleader!” He tilts his head to the ceiling. “Thank you, Jesus. Who would’ve thought I, former nerd extraordinaire, would get the cheerleader? If only I could pat my younger self on the shoulder now…”

I roll my eyes, unable to picture this massive human as a dorky teen. Especially one who never got laid. His younger self would indeed be proud now.

Once outside, I drink Kendall in and scratch the back of my head, kicking myself at what I’ve gotten myself into.

“Don’t back out on me now.” Ty steps in front of me and holds me by the shoulders. “Don’t you fucking back out now. You need this. It’s been far too long—”

“I’m fine.”

He pins me with a hard stare. “I know that look. You’re already regretting this. Just promise me you’ll wait until tomorrow, until after you spend the night naked with that blond angel. If you still regret that, then damn. You’re so far gone, not even angels can save you.”

He smirks as I push him off me and walk toward said blond angel.

And that’s exactly what Kendall is.

With every step, my dick throbs with thoughts of her light hair splayed on the pillow around her head like a halo.

I rub my hands together and inhale, preparing myself while I get back into my old charming routine.

Before I can say anything, Kendall points at me while the girls laugh behind her so hard they’re holding their stomachs. “Wherever we’re going, no lap dance. I’m… I’m good with just getting a drink, so… you’re off the hook.”

“I was kidding about that.” I chuckle at the visible release of tension from her shoulders. “This isn’t that kind of place, nor am I that kind of stripper. Have you never been to a show before?” I feign disappointment, stepping back and clutching my chest.

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, making her look innocent and vulnerable, although she doesn’t seem like either.

And that’s when I see it.

Her smile.

A shy, sexy one that I’ll dream about long after she’s gone.

My chest warms and swells like the pump I get from working out.

I’m most definitely fucked.