Releasing the front clasp of her bra, she held the cups in place, pausing for just a fraction of a second, but enough time for me to mourn the thought of her keeping it on.
Peeling her bra slowly away, she revealed full, round breasts. A strangled groan ripped from my throat. Soft, yet perky tits, topped with rosy pink nipples that tightened in the cool air.
Jesus.
She was built just like a woman should be. Tons of soft, lightly tanned skin and ample smooth curves. My cock stood at attention, saluting her with the admiration she deserved.
She swayed, her body moving sensually, slowly, like she had all the time in the world. Unlike the other girls, she wasn’t dancing for anyone. She was unrushed in her movements, feeling the music and rocking her hips. I imagined those hips moving over me, her soft curves in my hands, my mouth on her skin, the fingertip bruises I’d leave on those hips as I gripped her tight. My cock went as hard as steel.
Her eyes were closed and when she opened them, I about fell out of my chair.
Deep emerald green fringed in heavy black lashes.
Fucking hell.
“Finley?” I rose out of my seat, blood pumping, and headed straight for the stage, intent on towing her little ass down from it, and shoving her in some goddamn clothes.
Her eyes found mine and widened in alarm. Then a startled little gasp pushed past her pink glossy lips.
“Sir,” a booming voice asked beside me. “Are we going to have a problem?”
I stopped in my tracks, feet from the stage, fists clenched at my sides, vein no doubt popping in the side of my neck.
Realizing that if I so much as reached out my hand for her, I was going to be promptly removed from the club, and placed none-too-gingerly on my ass in the parking lot. I pulled a deep breath into my lungs. There was a no-touching rule, and I was happy to see it was being enforced. “We’re good,” I bit out. “A word, Finley?” My eyes stayed on hers.
Her pulse thumped in her slender neck and she gave the bouncer a tight nod. “We’re okay, Bruce. Thanks.” Navigating the stairs carefully, Finley came to stand before me. The music changed and another dancer took her place on stage. Even in those fuck-me pumps, she was still a good foot shorter than me. Not to mention virtually naked. But she acted like neither of those things bothered her. Her green gaze burned fiercely, her small body tensed in a challenging posture, fearless and unashamed as a lioness. It’d been almost two years since I’d seen her, but not much had changed. Her hair was a little shorter, her eyes more guarded. And judging by the way her mouth was pulled down into a tight frown, she still hated me.
Fine by me. I deserved it.
My body was still reacting to hers and that little strip show she’d done on stage. The blood roaring through my veins, and pounding in my cock made it hard to think. The motherfucker was rock hard and ready.
Stand down, man.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked.
“You first, sweetheart. What the hell are you doing here?” I asked after a few tense moments.
“I’m not your sweetheart, and what does it look like?” Her narrowed eyes told me to fuck off, but she wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily.
“It looked like you were shaking your ass up there for every Tom, Dick and Harry to see.”
She shrugged. “I’m a stripper, Greyson, that’s typically how it works.”
I flattened my tongue against the roof of my mouth to temper the string of curse words I wanted to let rip. “Don’t you mean adult entertainer?”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not play games. Now tell me why you’re here.”
Wasn’t it obvious? I figured she understood by now that this place was for lonely men without any real connections in their lives. I was here to forget about the miserable day I’d spent at work, and because I wasn’t ready to go home alone to an empty house. “Isn’t everyone here for the same thing? To drop about fifty bucks and go home with a raging boner…” I grinned at her.
“Git up there and get nekkid, doll face,” a man called from the crowd.
I whipped my head around to glare at him. I was going to break that motherfucker’s mouth for talking to her that way. But before I could do anything to shut him up, Finley pulled my attention back.
“I can’t talk to you right now. My boss is right over there, and he expects me to be working.” Her eyes flitted over to a bald man in an ill-fitting thrift store suit. His scowl etched a deep line across his forehead.
“Fine. Then I’ll buy a lap dance. How much?” I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and watched as Finley’s gorgeous pink lips parted in surprise.
Stand the fuck down.
“Forty, but there’s no way I’m …”
“Here’s eighty. Take it.” I shoved the money at her, but she took a step back.
“I’m not taking your money, Greyson.”
“Well, then it looks like we're stuck, because I'm not leaving here without you answering a few questions. For starters, how’s the baby?”