His Stripper (Dance For Me)

The shower door is see-through, giving me a clear view of her luscious body. Water cascades down her smooth skin, making her look even sexier. Her back is turned to me, and my eyes are glued to her perfectly shaped ass. Fuck, I can’t wait to claim every part of her. I always hated the idea of having a chick live with me, but the thought of having tight pussy on demand has just won me over. No way am I letting her go again.

I’m two seconds away from opening the door all the way and joining her in that shower when I hear the faint sound of the doorbell carrying through the house. Hazel doesn’t even hear it and continues washing her hair, unaware I’m even here. I step away from the door and adjust my cock before heading down the stairs.

I’m not halfway down when the doorbell rings again. Annoyance fills my veins, and I’m already envisioning punishing whoever is on the other side. I pull the door open, ready to yell, when I realize it’s my younger brother, Archer.

“What do you want?”

“Jesus, what a welcome,” Archer grunts and pushes past me into the house. “Can’t your brother come by for a visit?”

“You never come by unannounced unless you have a reason.”

“You never leave the club until closing,” he quips. “And I did try to call you. You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

“Fuck, sorry. I got sidetracked.”

“With what? Busting up your car? Did you drive home drunk again?” He keeps bombarding me with questions, and I can feel the headache forming in my skull.

“If you ask me one more stupid question, my fist will be coming for you.”

“Good luck with that, old man.” Archer snorts. “Now tell me what the fuck happened to your car.”

“A woman rear-ended me. It was obvious she didn’t have insurance and couldn’t pay, so I brought her to the club to work it off.”

A sinister smile spreads across my brother’s face. “Nice, so she is pretty?” I only nod, not trusting to get a word out without sounding jealous. “Do you want me to send someone to watch her? Make sure she doesn’t make a run for it?”

“That won’t be necessary.” My brother arches his brow at my words, clearly questioning me without words. “She’s homeless… so I brought her here.”

Archer’s curiosity vanishes in a blink of an eye and is replaced with white-hot rage. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He pauses, waiting for me to tell him that I’m joking, and when I don’t respond, his anger only grows. “Fucking Christ! After all that shit you put me through… you put Cash and Kane through. After all of that, you pick up a girl off the street and bring her to your house? Did you at least run her name? Did a background check?”

“It was a last-minute kind of decision.”

“You’re a fucking last-minute asshole hypocrite is what you are. Jesus fucking Christ, Myles. I can’t believe you. Get rid of the girl, or I’m telling Ace.” Archer shakes his head and makes his way to the door. I want to stop him, but what the fuck am I gonna say? He’s right. I fucked up.

The front door slams shut, the sound echoing through the house before it falls into silence.

Spinning around, I start walking up the stairs when I catch sight of someone standing at the top of the staircase. My eyes zero in on the petite woman wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around her body. Most of her creamy white skin is on display, and my cock roars back to life.

“What’s wrong? I heard someone yelling. Is everything okay?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” I snap, making her flinch. “I have some work to take care of, so don’t bother me, and be ready at eight. Your first day at the pole starts today. Don’t disappoint me.”

She recoils at my words, almost like I slapped her. I force myself to keep walking past her barely covered body and into my own room. I need a fucking shower, an ice-cold shower. Because that might be the only thing keeping me from going back into the hallway and fucking her raw.

7

Hazel

“Take these.” I knit my brows together as Myles shoves a pack of contact lenses into my hands. “Lose the glasses and wear them while you’re working. You’ll look sexier that way.”

I can sense a detached tone to his voice as if he doesn’t even care anymore. What happened? Why is he suddenly acting so distant?

Unable to get to the root of the problem, I force myself to nod and pocket the contacts. But because I’m me, I really can’t help myself, and the question slips from my lips before I can bite my tongue.

“Did I do something wrong?”