Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

“I guess that means I win,” Jake says, after he smashes the last ball past my head.

I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to take that fist and shove it down his piehole.

“Where the hell did you learn to hit like that?” I grumble.

“I’ve been playing baseball for the last six months,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

How did I not know that?

“Come on, Becs. Stop procrastinating and get dancing,” he says. I protest as he drags me over to a large, leather armchair facing away from the stage. It’s the chair that will give the guys the best view of my little show. Garry calls over the stripper and tells her she’s getting a lap dance. She frowns at me and shakes her head.

“Sorry guys, it’s against the rules. I could lose my job.”

I breathe out. Thank Christ for that.

“That’s okay, I’ll do it. I don’t work here, so the rules don’t apply to me.”

I look up and see ping-pong girl smiling at me. She bites her lip, her eyes trailing down over my body. I shiver. What have I gotten myself into? She pushes me back down onto the chair and climbs on top of me.

“No, no,” Jake says, shaking his head. “She’s going to give you the lap dance. That was the deal.”

Ping-pong girl shrugs and gets up. “I’m down with that. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She sits down while I stand there like a tool, not sure what to do. I try to block out the sound of the guys cheering me on and focus on only her, but fuck, it’s hard. The doubts begin to creep in, until my gaze falls on Liam. The way he’s smirking at me, it’s like he’s expecting me to chicken out. That’s all the encouragement I need to do this. I take a deep breath and flex my fingers as the music starts to play. Ping-pong girl grabs my hand and pulls me onto her lap.

“Just relax,” she whispers in my ear. “It’s easy, just go with the music. You’re turning on guys. They’re not that hard to please. It’s easier than entertaining puppies.”

I smile, her words both relaxing me and giving me confidence.

I can do this. Piece of cake.

The music starts and I’m relieved that it’s a tune I know. I close my eyes and grind my body against hers, running my hands through my hair. I sway softly to the music, rotating my hips to the music. I turn around to face the guys, shivering when her hands roam up over my body, landing on my breasts.

“Hey, how come she gets to touch, but when I do it, I’m forcibly removed?” Garry mutters.

“Because your touching is unwanted?” Jake retorts. “Becca’s obviously loving it.”

I glance at Liam, the intensity he’s looking at me with almost too much for me to handle. I spin around, rubbing my body against hers.

“See, you’re a pro,” she says, smiling at me. “Now you just need to amp things up a little. Pick someone out who you’re attracted to and dance for them. Once you’re turned on, it will all come naturally,” she says.

I nod and stand up again, turning around. I strut from one side of the chair to the other and gently grind my ass into her lap. The guys whistle and cheer me on. Well, most of the guys. Liam seems to be frozen, his jaw clenched almost as tightly as his fists. The way he’s looking at me has my body reacting in ways that I’m not sure I want.

I take a deep breath and reach behind me to lower the zipper on my dress and let it fall to the floor. I kick it aside, thanking God I had the foresight to wear half decent panties. Hell, even my bra matches, which is a once in a lifetime occurrence. My intention wasn’t to actually strip when I started, but now I’m into it, I think what the hell. Just as I’m about to undo my bra, Jake stands up and waves his arm at me.

“Okay, you’re good. You can stop the show now.”

“What are you doing?” Garry hisses, his disappointment echoed by the other guys.

“What?” Jake mutters. “Give her a break, man. You’re in a strip club, for Christ’s sake. You’re surrounded by naked women.”

“Maybe, but none of them come close to being as hot as her,” Ben, I think his name is, grumbles. I hide a smile, secretly flattered that they’d rather watch my amateur ass over any of these other women.

“Honey, you’re a natural,” Ms. Venezuela gushes. She’s so tall, I barely reach her shoulders. “Come up here and try the pole,” she says. She tugs me over to the stage and pushes me in front of it. “If nothing else, it will give you a killer workout. Have you done any classes or anything?”