Текст книги "Sexy"
Автор книги: J. A. Huss
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” And he isn’t. I can tell. Because he stands up and walks across the large flat boulder to another one that is the perfect height to sit on. “Come on, show me your stuff. Show me how sexy you are. And if you do that, I’ll give you everything you want.”
“Fletcher, I’m not a stripper.”
“Neither was I nine months ago. My first lap dance was hilarious. Chandler laughed his ass off. I had to do him, by the way. So at least you’ve got me to entice. Just imagine trying to be sexy with a dude like him.”
I laugh as I picture him. “But you’re different. You’re good at this stuff. Girls look at you and imagine ripping your clothes off. Guys look at me and imagine the granny pants I have on under my suit.”
“No,” he says with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the thought going through my head that night I saw you at the show was, She looks fuckable.”
“It was not. I was a prissy bitch to you that night.”
“You were a sex kitten, Tiffy. Even your name is sexy. You opened that door and the look on your face said insatiable sexual appetite.”
“Fuck you,” I chuckle, trying to hide my blush. “It did not. I was thinking about how to fire you that night.”
“Lap dance. Come on. Get up and do it.”
“I don’t even know what a lap dance is. I’ve only ever seen one at your show.”
He eyes me suspiciously, considering if I’m lying or not. And then he stands up, takes my hand, whirls me around and pushes down on my shoulders. “OK, I’ll go first then. But you’re not getting out of it.”
I take a deep breath as I look up into his blue eyes. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I imagine what it would be like to watch him try to seduce me with a dance. I blush. Fiercely.
He shoots me one of those grins that light up his face. “Ready?”
I nod.
“Pay close attention, Tiffy.” He says this as his hips begin to move back and forth. I’m already mesmerized. But when he places his hands on my shoulders and straddles my legs, I have to gulp down air. “You have to make contact, Tiff. It’s the most important thing. I touch you here,” he says, his voice lowering as he rubs my shoulders, “and if you’re into me, a chill should run through your body.”
It does. It so does.
His hips are right in front of my face now, and I can’t help but stare at his torso. My eyes slip down to his belt. And then his hands are there, playing with the waistband of his jeans. “And then you direct my eyes down to your hips. Just like that.”
I glance up at him to see if he’s laughing, but he’s got a serious look on his face. And if I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know that this was the infamous Fletcher Novak, the guy who fucks anyone he wants, whenever he wants, and doesn’t have a flavor of the week, but a flavor of the day—then I might think he’s into me.
“When my eyes are on your hips, you tease me with them. Be my fantasy, Tiffy. Make me imagine what you’d look like with no clothes.”
Jesus. I can imagine. I saw him that first night. I saw him naked the next day. I sucked his dick looking up at him like this. It’s very easy to imagine him naked. He certainly qualifies as my fantasy.
He begins to play with my hair, taking the long dark strands into his fingers, caressing it in a long dragging motion until I feel a feather-light touch on the top of my breast. I look up at him again.
“Touch my chest first. Soft strokes that make me feel like this is all real.”
It’s not real, Tiffy. I say it to remind myself. It’s not real. This is a job to him.
His fingers slide between my bra strap and my skin, sweeping up until they’re on top of my shoulders. “It’s a tease, though. That’s the most important thing to remember. It’s just a tease. You want me to look at you with lust. You want me to look at you with desire. You want me to think I have a chance.”
You have no chance, Tiffy. Oh my God. Why am I even thinking these things?
“You want me to imagine taking off your bra.” His hand slips down my back as he pushes his whole body even further into my lap. And then it’s on the clasp of my bra.
I swallow hard.
“You want me to”—he unsnaps my bra like a pro, and it comes loose, billowing out in front of me with the soft current of the wind—“think about making a move.”
He’s making a move all right.
“And then, just to keep the fantasy going”—he slides the bra down my arms until it’s in my lap. My nipples perk up from the light spray of the lake waves as they push against the rocks—“you take something off.”
“Fletcher—”
But I stop. Because his hands are behind my neck, pulling my face into his weaving hips. He threads his fingers through my hair and up my scalp. That chill up my spine turns into a full-blown tremble.
“You want me to think you’ll kiss me, Tiffy.” He releases my hair and then his palms are alongside my cheeks, cupping me with force. Not hard, but not soft either. Like he’s preparing me for what’s to come.
What’s coming?
He bows down, his forehead pressing against mine, but he is still too far away. “You want to make me want you. More than anything else, you want me to want you, right now, in this moment.”
I want him. Holy fuck, I want him. Let me be your fantasy, Fletcher.
His knees rest on either side of my thighs, and then I feel his ass moving across the top of them. Back and forth. Slowly and then even more slowly. He gyrates against me, the heat of his sex appeal crashing against me like the waves against the rocks.
“You want to make me touch you, Tiffy.” I know he’s still in teacher mode, but I don’t care. I reach for him. My fingers find his belt loops and hook around them. I tug him just a little bit closer as I stare into his eyes.
“Then I’ll say, Kiss me, Tiffy.” And his head dips down further, his lips so close to mine, the kiss is all but inevitable.
But he pauses. I can feel his breath on my lips. I can smell his scent in my nose. He smells like a man. And sweat. And sand. And water. And wind.
“But remember,” he says, tipping my chin up a little so our lips bump ever so slightly against one another, “you have to make me beg for it. I have to beg for it or you don’t give it up. Because the lap dance, Tiffy, is a test. It’s your chance,” he whispers over the music of the lake, “to be sexy. To be desired. To be in control. You’re all mine. But it’s a fantasy, and I have to beg for it.”
And then I can’t stand it anymore. I move that fraction of an inch and taste him.
He grips my head, pushing his mouth against mine. His tongue doesn’t dance like last time, it’s hard and pushing. Seeking more from me.
I give him more. I unhook my fingers from his belt loops and slide my hands down his thighs. His legs are well-muscled and his jeans are hot from the sun.
He moans into my mouth, reaches for my hand, and places it over his hard cock.
God. I have never wanted a man to fuck me so much.
I pull back for a minute and we both catch our breath. The next few moments float in my head. “How would you beg for it, Fletch?” I ask him. “How would you make me want you back?”
He kisses me one more time and then moves backwards.
Holy fuck. He’s gonna leave me like this.
“You don’t have to worry about that, princess. No man in his right mind wouldn’t want you right now. And I’m no different.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. And then he picks up my bra and places it in my hands. “But we better get back. I think your clothes are dry and I’ve gotta get ready for the show.”
He gets up off my lap and goes hunting for his shirt. I watch him as he pulls it over his head, taking note of the defined muscles in his abs. He doesn’t look at me once he’s dressed again, just gathers up my drying clothes off the rock and turns back to hand them over.
“I hope you plan on getting dressed. Because if you try to walk home naked, I’ll be kicking a lot of ass on the way.”
I shake myself out of his trance and slide my bra up my arms. But before I can reach around to hook it, he’s there, his fingers light as they brush against my back and do it for me.
He takes my hand once my bra is on and pulls me to my feet. And I stand there as he dresses me. The shirt is mostly dry, and it flutters over my head and settles on my hips. He opens up my pants and holds them open for me. “Step in, Tiffy. We gotta go.”
I place my hand on his shoulder and feel a chill run through him.
He looks up at me and we’ve traded places from a few minutes ago. I lift a leg and step in, and then do it again. He stands, tugging my pants up with him.
He leans in and whispers, “I can’t wait for my turn.”
Chapter Eighteen
I think about her the whole walk back. She wanted me. I can feel it. She wanted me to take her right there. She’d have let me fuck her, just like she did the other night on the roof.
But is it the fantasy she wants? Fletcher the stripper? Fletcher the teacher? Or something else?
It’s impossible to tell, and that’s the problem with the job I do. You can’t ever tell if people like you for who you are or what you are. I know what I look like. I’ve never had a problem getting girls. I lost my virginity when other guys were still trying to make it to first base. Hell, I even had a few moms making eyes at me back in high school.
But they always wanted something out of it. The teenagers wanted to go to dances with the quarterback. The college girls wanted to get fucked by the lacrosse star. The patrons at the show want to say they fucked one of the Mountain Men. And not just any Mountain Man, the lead.
It’s tainted me, so what? I get to have an opinion about the hand I was dealt, just like everyone else. And I’m not saying I’d want to be anyone but me, because I don’t.
I just want girls to look at me with something more than the size of my cock on their minds.
“Hey,” Chandler says as I pass through the backstage door. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d show up.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” And for the first time, I wish I wasn’t. Tiffy’s father is gonna be here. She wants me to… what? What kind of first impression is that? Hey, Dad, this guy wants to date me. Don’t you love that he takes his clothes off at our hotel every Wednesday and Saturday?
Yeah, that’s gonna go over well.
Wait, what? Since when do I care what kind of impression I make on a girl’s parents? Like I ever had a chance with Tiffy. She’s smart, rich, beautiful. And she wants Cole. She hired me to get Cole. And yeah, I can tempt her all I want with lap dances. But the fact is, I’m not the guy who gets a girl like her. She’s a one-night stand if ever there was one. And our one night was up a few days ago.
So fuck it. I might as well do my job and do it well.
I go into my dressing room and push the costumes around. Saturdays are a little more wild than Wednesdays. For one, we sell more tickets. We take out some tables and put in cheap seats. There will be a few hundred more people in there tonight. So we do it right. And the new routine we came up with is the first act.
I’m not gonna waste any more time thinking about Tiffy. I’m just gonna go out there first thing and find me a girl to erase this shitty life I’ve set up for myself. Erase all the shit that’s piling up. Forget that my job is hanging by a thread. Forget that people are depending on me. Forget my fucking brother came back to town on the one day I wish he’d just drop dead.
Forget all that shit.
I go back out into the common room where all the guys hang out and do my thing. “What’s Sexy Man have to say this week?”
Mitch throws the weekly tabloid at me and hits me in the chest. “We laughed about it yesterday, asshole. You’ve just been too caught up in the boss’ daughter to even remember we exist.”
“Yeah, well. She’s been trying to fire me all week. What was I supposed to do? Let her get rid of me?”
“You should read it,” Steve says, pointing to the magazine. “It’s got you written all over that shit. We laughed so hard last night in the bar.”
I grin and open the trashy paper to the weekly columns and start reading.
Dear Sexy Man,
I got a problem. A girl showed up who’s way above my league and I fucked her blind in my office. The problem is, she’s my boss. And now she wants more and I just don’t know how to tell her to get lost without losing my job. Help!
Signed,
Cock on the Clock
I let out a laugh. God, this shit is priceless.
Dear Cock on the Clock,
Never, ever, fuck the boss, son. You have two choices. Marry the bitch or quit your job and move on. Boss bitches never get over it. So declare your independence and fly free, young man. Learn your lesson well. It’s a memory for the books, that’s for sure. There’s nothing better than getting off with a woman who’s forbidden. But the cock gods demand to be paid. So next time you’re tempted to fuck where you work, ask yourself, ‘Is this the girl I want to marry?’ And if not, then tuck that cock back in your pants and move on.
Love ya,
Sexy Man
“Classic shit,” Bill says, grabbing it out of my hand. “You know, Sexy Man was getting lame there for a while. Talking all serious. I was beginning to think he was gonna pussy out and say he’s in love, that’s how boring it got.”
“He’s still funny,” I say. “He’s just been doing this for a while, that’s all. You run out of things to say.”
“He gets letters, dumbass,” Sean says. “All he’s gotta do is pick the funny shit. Hell, I’ve sent in a few and he never picks my stuff. And it’s good, man.”
“Like hell. You’re as dumb as a hammer,” Mitch says. “You couldn’t write something funny if your life was on the line. Fletcher, now he’s funny. You ever send a letter into Sexy Man, Fletch?”
“Never,” I say. “The last thing I want is to spend my free time thinking about that stupid column.”
“I still think it’s funny,” Steve says, pulling on his cowboy boots. “Where’s your costume, Fletch?” he asks, eyeing my regular boots.
“I’ve got five minutes, Steve. What’s the rush?”
“Get a move on, Fletcher,” Chandler says, slamming the door behind him. “If you’re back, then be back. Not that you’ve even been here the last few days. You missed three practices this week.”
“Corporate, man. Blame them for that shit.”
“They wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t fucking off.”
“Well, I have a feeling my days are numbered. Mr. Preston is gonna be here tonight and I’m pretty sure this is not his idea of a good marketing plan. I’ve also heard that there’s some big shots in the online booking world coming to rate the place. I can only imagine the look on Preston’s face when he realized his only shot at this opportunity hinges on six guys taking off their clothes.”
“I think he knows we’re his money-makers, Fletch,” Chandlers says. “I’ve talked to him about it. He just said keep it clean.”
“Keep what clean?” Mitch asks. He sounds as annoyed as I feel.
“Yeah,” Steve says. “We don’t do clean. Those women don’t want clean. They want dirty as fuck. I’m not giving up a whole night’s worth of tips to keep that asshole happy. Especially if he’s just looking for a reason to shut this show down.”
“Calm down,” Chandler says. “It’s one night.”
“One night is nothing to you, I guess,” Sean says. “I’ve got bills to pay. And I count on tips to make that happen. It’s not like we’re raking in the cash with this gig. It’s Tahoe, for fuck’s sake. Not Vegas.”
“Listen,” Chandler says, clearly getting pissed off. “If you want to keep this job, then do what I say. Preston wants a clean show. It’s his fucking hotel.”
“It’s not his hotel, actually.”
“What?”
They all turn to look at me and I’m sorry I mentioned it. But once you say it, you gotta explain. These guys won’t let me off that easy.
“It’s Tiffy Preston’s hotel. Her old man doesn’t own it. She does. And I’m pretty sure she wants to get a good rating. And the way we do that is to do the best show ever. That’s not pulling punches. That’s making those women scream our names, cover their mouths from embarrassment, and tell all their friends this was worth every penny. With any luck, the reviewer will be a woman.”
“Don’t even, Novak.” He walks over to me and stares me in the eyes. “I’m telling you all right now, we’re gonna clean it up and do as we’re told.”
I stare back at him, my fists clenching right along with my jaw.
“You got it?”
“I got it,” I snarl. “You have another job waiting, so you could give a fuck if we fail.”
He pushes me hard in the chest and I have to take a few steps back. “Fuck you, Fletcher. You’re the problem here, not me. You’re the one they want to get rid of, not me.”
“I quit yesterday, asshole. And I’m the one who’s still here. So I’m obviously not that expendable.”
“Wait,” Sean says. “What does he mean you’ve got another job?”
“His pussy-whipped ass took a job in Reno because his girlfriend was bitching and moaning about the show. Didn’t he tell you?”
I know he didn’t. It was between us. But I know my time here is just about over. So fuck it. Chandler isn’t gonna pull rank and act like he cares what happens to this show. Not after all that’s happened this week.
“Is that true?” Mitch asks. “You’re bailing and you want us to basically throw the fight so you can… what? Get a severance bonus if the hotel gets a good ranking?”
Chandler stares at me with squinted eyes. I crossed a line with him. It was a secret. And he’s got plenty of secrets of mine too, so I should’ve been respectful of his. But the last man standing doesn’t get there by being a pussy. “Tell them, Chandler.”
“I’ll tell them a lot more than that, Novak.”
I throw out my arms. “Go ahead. It’s my last night, anyway.”
“OK,” Steve says, pushing himself between us, one hand on each of our chests. “Let’s just relax and get through the show. Then we can all have a day to cool off, and discuss it on Monday.” He looks at me. “And Fletcher, for fuck’s sake, you’re not getting fired. I heard Claudio talking you up on the phone earlier today to Preston. I think her father is a good guy.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. But that asshole is gonna leave Tiffy alone in this world, struggling and afraid, just to make her prove herself. I can see a guy doing that to his sons. But girls need protection. They need safety nets. And it pisses me off that he’s fucking her over like that.
But I don’t say any of that. That really is crossing a line. Tiffy doesn’t deserve to find out about her dad from my big mouth. I’m not sure where I stand with her from one minute to the next, but I do know I don’t want to hurt her.
Chandler stares me down for a few more seconds and I wait to see if he’ll spill any of my secrets. But it’s one thing to tell the guys he’s leaving. We’ve been expecting it for a couple months. It’s something else to tell them what I’m up to.
So he takes a deep breath and turns away. “Fifteen minutes until show time. Keep it clean. That’s an order.” And then he walks out of the dressing room and slams the door behind him.
Chapter Nineteen
The atmosphere for the show is different today than it was on Wednesday. People are louder, more animated. Drunk. Lots of bachelorettes in this crowd, and I bet each one wants a piece of these men tonight.
I crinkle my nose at that thought, just as Claudio comes up and taps me on the shoulder. “Tiff,” he says in that voice I dread. It’s his concerned voice. One that immediately tells me that something is wrong.
“What?” I can’t hold back the trepidation that spreads throughout my body like a wave. “What’s happened?”
“Your dad isn’t feeling well. He said he’s going back to San Francisco tonight.”
My dad has been sick for months. He had a slight stroke last year and some heart problems the year before. And even though he recovered, he’s been having dizzy spells. And he doesn’t like to talk about it with me, so I’m always the last to know. “Maybe I should go with him? I’ll go pack my stuff.”
“No,” Claudio says, grabbing my arm. “He’s already gone, Tiff. And he said he needs you here to take care of the hotel. He said he’ll call you tomorrow.”
“He always says that, Claudio. If you know what’s going on, then tell me! It’s driving me—” I stop and watch Cole walk into the theater with a woman on his arm. “Who the hell is that?”
Claudio opens his mouth to answer, looking a little too relieved about the distraction. “Wait,” I say. “Tell me about my dad first. Is he sick?”
“Tiffy,” he says, sighing. “I don’t know. I think you need to talk to him about it. And he said he was going to call you tomorrow. So ask him then. And as for that tramp”—he motions his head towards the table we’re going to share with Cole and now this girl—“she’s new at the office.”
“Since when?”
“The day we got here.”
“Bullshit. Cole never hires people without telling me.”
“Well, he did this one. Made her his executive assistant.”
“Well, I guess that really is his decision. But…” My words trail off as he pulls the chair out and she takes a seat, smiling up at him like… “Do you think they’re dating?”
“Not yet. So if you want him, you better make a move soon, girlfriend. Because he’s about to make his and it won’t be you on his arm tonight.”
Holy shit. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t even wait for Claudio to answer before I’m making a mad dash towards backstage. The security guy waves me through and I enter the dimly lit hallway and pass the dressing rooms as I make my way towards the back.
When I get to Fletcher’s door, I knock. “Fletch?” I call. “You in there?”
I hear a faint, “Come in,” and so I twist the handle and peek my head in.
“You busy?” I ask. He’s standing in front of the mirror buckling a holster onto his hip. He’s got a cowboy hat on, faded jeans, and cowboy boots.
He looks fucking hot.
As usual.
“Not any busier than normal five minutes before the show opens.” He yells over Chandler’s booming voice from the stage. “What’s up?”
“Cole is up! He’s got a girl out there. He brought a date! He’s here with a girl from the office!”
“Calm down, princess.” He gives me a little rumbling chuckle and then that grin I’ve grown to love. “How do you know it’s a date? Maybe it’s just business?”
“What kind of girl goes to see a stripper with her boss?”
“I don’t know,” he says, leaning his perfect ass against the dressing table and crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of boss invites her employee up to her room?”
“I was going to fire you. And it’s not the same. You don’t really work for me. This girl is his”—I make air quotes—“executive assistant. How’s that for bullshit?”
Fletcher grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. All kinds of nerve endings start firing in my body from his touch. “Are you jealous?” he asks, putting his hands on my hips once I’m within a few inches of his chest.
I’m about to scream, Hell, yes! when I stop. “I don’t know if I’m jealous, exactly. But I’m pissed. This was supposed to be my big night. I had this all planned. We,” I stress, “had this all planned.”
His hands slide up my body until his fingertips are pressing on the back of my ribs and his thumbs are right underneath my breasts. I have to take a deep breath. “What are you doing, Fletcher?”
“Making you crazy.”
“Stop and help me get rid of this girl!”
He stands up straight and leans into my neck. “How should I do that?”
Fuck. Why is Fletcher so hot?
“Should I pick her out of the crowd? Make her feel special? Take her to my room?”
Sometimes I wish he’d take me to his room. I got a taste of his magic that first night and holy fuck, if Cole and Claudio weren’t there and we’d had time alone, I might’ve fucked him that night.
Focus, Tiffy.
“Um, yeah?”
“That sounds like a question. Do you want me to take this girl home tonight, Tiffy? Ruin her chances with Cole?”
“Sorta. I just want my chance, ya know? I just want my one opportunity to make him see me as a possibility. And this was gonna be it. I was going to use all those tricks and get him to notice.”
A knock at the door interrupts us. “One minute, Fletcher,” some stage guy says.
Fletcher looks down at me with a small smile. Not the grin he had on a few seconds ago. “I’ll take care of it, Tiffy. OK? And then you can have another date with him tomorrow and that one will go perfect.”
I nod, unable to take my eyes off his face. That smile isn’t happy, it’s… sad. Something is wrong. And I’m just about to open my mouth to ask why he’s sad when I hear Chandler announcing the guys on stage.
“Just go sit down and be patient. When the girl is gone, make a date for dinner with Cole. I’ll take care of her.”
And then he walks out the door to do his thing.
