At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

I wasn’t nervous taking my clothes off in front of those people and dancing on their laps, but now that I’m fully clothed and PJ isn’t talking, I feel like I want to throw up as I watch him walk around the front of the truck and get behind the wheel, slamming his door closed behind him so hard the truck shakes.

Is he mad that I was really into those lap dances? It’s not like anyone in that room turned me on. I was turned on having PJ watch me and thinking about the times I’ve been on his lap. Is he jealous? It’s not like I’m giving customers the same kind of dances I’ve given him. But I’m still on their laps, shaking my ass, shoving my boobs in their face, and everything else that goes along with the job.

And since he helped us come up with our rules and regulations, which include no touching the dancers, it’s not like anyone had their hands on me. Well, aside from the women. I tossed that rule out of the window for them because, well, they’re women. I don’t swing that way, so it’s not like it would be a problem. And really, they only held onto my hips every once in a while, it’s not like they were rubbing their hands all over me. I knew it might end up being a bad idea to have him come with me and act as my bodyguard. It’s one thing to know the woman you’re sleeping with is dancing for other people. It’s a whole other nightmare when you have to witness it, being forced to stand in the corner and not say or do anything unless you have to step in because someone gets out of hand.

“Are you mad?”

In the dark interior of the truck, with just the dashboard lights glowing on PJ’s face, I watch a muscle tick in his jaw before he looks over at me and finally speaks.

“No.”

Great. A one-word answer. That doesn’t scream pissed as hell at all.

“Why would you think I’m mad?”

I want to shout, “Because your voice is all low and gruff, and even though just the sound of it is turning me on and making me want to mount you, I’m not an idiot, and you are definitely mad at what you just witnessed, and how dare you get mad when you knew what you were in for, you annoying man!”

Thankfully, I don’t shout that. I take a nice, calming breath and speak like a rational adult.

“Because there was a vein popping out of your forehead all night that I thought would seriously kill my chances of getting a tip if it exploded. Removing blood stains from the walls and carpet is pretty expensive, from what I hear.”

I watch his hands clench and unclench around the steering wheel a few times before one of those hands suddenly shoots out, wraps around the back of my neck and tugs me toward him.

Our lips collide and my mouth immediately opens for him. I let out a soft moan when his tongue swirls around mine, bringing my hands up between us to clutch the front of his shirt in my fists as I pull him closer. He deepens the kiss, and I forget about being mad that he’s mad and just enjoy this moment—the taste of him, the heat of his body, the way his hand at the back of my neck grabs a handful of hair and holds my head in place so he can devour me. Right when I’m ready to shove him back so I can climb onto his lap, not even caring that we’re still in the driveway of my first paying customer’s house, he ends the kiss with a few soft, pecks against my swollen lips, pulling his head back to stare into my eyes.

“I’m not mad. I’m sexually frustrated after having to stand in the corner of the room and pretend to be a ficus tree while watching you take your clothes off and dance like a fucking goddess. I’m definitely not mad. I’m proud of you. And horny. But mostly proud.”

I smile at him, sliding my hand down his chest, over his abs, and resting my palm over the impressive proof of his horniness straining against the zipper of his jeans.

“You promise you’re not even a little bit mad I danced on other men’s laps tonight?” I whisper, pressing my palm harder against him and smiling when he lets out a groan.

“Sweetheart, this is your job. I’m not mad. And besides, while I stand there in the corner of the room, knowing those men and women are going to be fantasizing about what you did to them for weeks to come, I know you’re going home with me at the end of the night.”