Trashy (Take It Off #10)(12)
Author: Cambria Hebert

His eyes dropped down to my mouth, igniting a slow burn in my center. “Maybe I’m just tired of you dancing for other men,” he rumbled.

The bottom fell out of my stomach. Thank goodness I was leaning against the bar because surprise so strong flickered through me that I was unable to feel anything else.

Did he just imply he wanted me to dance for him?

“I didn’t know it bothered you,” I said, turning so my posture mirrored his. Now we were facing each other, both of us with one elbow propped on the bar.

“Now you do,” he said and he leaned closer, a little bit of challenge in his dark eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

I never backed down from a challenge.

I straightened off the bar and stepped closer, my chest brushing up against his as I reached out and gripped the collar of his white dress shirt, adjusting it near his throat. There wasn’t anything about it that needed fixing; I just wanted to touch him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I murmured, smoothing my palms across his broad shoulders and then stepping away.

One of the girls motioned it was my almost my time for the stage, so I motioned to the tray of drinks and yelled out the table number so she could deliver the booze. Adam was still watching me. The air around us still crackled and the humming beneath my skin graduated to a vibration.

Without another word, I walked away, stopping off in his office on my way backstage. I knew exactly what I was after and where he kept it. Once my hand closed around the silk, I stuffed it in my apron and rushed backstage.

As the girl on stage finished up her dance, I changed quickly, bypassing the outfit I planned to wear and going in a completely different direction instead.

I dug into the bottom of my duffle for the panties I didn’t usually wear for dancing. I only had them to change into after I was done my shift tonight. They weren’t lacey thongs or tiny-cut bikinis like I usually danced in. These were soft cotton boy shorts. They hugged my ass and the very top of my thigh. The low-cut waistband was made of lace, and it curved well below my belly button, exposing all of my flat navel. They were deep black, and on the very front there was a ruching detail that gathered the fabric, exposing even more leg, punctuated on each side with a small hot-pink satin bow.

Frankly, these were more comfortable than anything I ever wore on stage, and they made me feel far sexier than any of the tiny outfits I usually wore. I liked them because when I walked around in public, I always felt like I was carrying a naughty secret because no one knew the sexiness I was hiding beneath my clothes.

I slipped them on and pulled off my top. I didn’t bother with a bra. Instead, I grabbed up the suit jacket that Adam pulled around me and slid it over my bare skin. The inside had a silky liner and it glided right over my touch-sensitive body.

After that, I stepped into a pair of black sky-high stiletto heels, pulled my hair down from the bun it was in and let the messy, tangled strands fall over my shoulders and around my face. Some of the strands were still damp from the rain, and I scrunched them up, trying to infuse even more body.

Just as the music onstage was ending, I yanked out the stolen item from Adam’s office and slid it over my head—the tie he kept for meetings. I adjusted the blue silk, letting it drape around my neck as I fixed the knot and made it so the fabric fell just between my bare breasts.

I noticed some of the girls staring at me from the corners of their eyes as I added some fuchsia lipstick and ruffled up my hair one last time.

“That’s a new look for you.” One of the dancers spoke up.

“Yep,” I replied, stepping up behind the curtain. “Figured I would end my dancing career with a bang.”

Butterflies took flight in my middle, and I moved restlessly against the silk hanging in the center of my breasts. Having his clothes, things he wore on his body, brushing against my naked skin excited me. I’d never been so keyed up, so turned on for a dance before.

Adam said he didn’t like me dancing for other men.

So this time, I was going to dance just for him.

8

Adam

I was going over an inventory sheet behind the bar, checking it against the supply of liquor, when the music came on. It wasn’t anything special, just the usual instrumental style with a slow-paced, heavy beat that made every man in the place think of sex.

The room was dim, most everything cast in shadows except the area right around the bar. A single spotlight shone down in the center of the stage, drawing everyone’s eye.

I only glanced up and then didn’t look up again.

Until a hushed sort of murmuring seemed to race over the people sitting around the stage. I looked up from my notes. The stage was still empty; the light illuminated nothing at all. The grinding rhythm of the music filled the space as men looked around, wondering where the hell the entertainment was.

Wasn’t Roxie supposed to be up?

What the hell was she dragging this out for? She needed to get on stage, shake her ass, and be done. I wasn’t kidding when I told her I was done watching her shake it for other men.

I began to feel suspicious, remembering how her tight, round ass bounced into my office before disappearing backstage. What the hell was she up to now?

I was just about to abandon the inventory to go see what was going on when a catcall echoed through the bar. As soon as it ended, a few whistles and shouts immediately followed. I glanced back at the stage.

Roxie was there, standing just out of the circle of light but with her leg partially stepped inside. The only thing anyone could make out of her shape was her sleek, slim calf and sexy-as-hell black heels.

She rolled her foot around, flexing the creamy smoothness of her leg, and as more whistles cut through the music, she stepped all the way beneath the spotlight.

The clipboard I held fell out of my hands, landing with a thump on the top of the bar. The inside of my mouth suddenly went dry, as if I’d been walking through a desert in the dead heat of day.

Roxie was wearing my jacket. Her long, bare legs stuck out from beneath it and stretched all the way to the floor. It hung off her frame, too large to mold against her, but it didn’t matter. Just imagining what was beneath it was sexy enough.

She shook out the mess of dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and bent. Roxie dragged her fingers up her bare leg and arched her back as she straightened, giving every single eye in the place a glimpse of her tight black panties, pink bows, and bare waist.

Her hand stopped just shy of revealing her chest, and she slid her fingers over and glided them up and down a tie hanging around her neck. My cock tightened watching the pumping action.