Читать книгу Private Dancer - Kimberly Dean - Страница 6

Alicia stared at herself in the mirror, horrified and transfixed in one improbable moment. What was she doing?

Her hand trembled as she pressed it against her stomach. Thank goodness Chanteuse had helped her with her wardrobe. She doubted she could have handled trying on the Satin Club’s skimpy outfits in front of either Bas or Remy. Still, the costume she’d ended up with was little more than a bikini. Make that a little less …

Her fingers brushed against the low-riding edge of the bottoms. They barely covered her pubic hair, and she’d tried on several pairs before she’d found ones that would.

Her face flared, indescribably hot.

She kept herself tidy down there. She just didn’t realise that most of the dancers waxed. She bit her lip. The mere thought of letting some aesthetician touch her, see her private area and groom her …

Her fingers pressed against her throat. Oh, things were spiralling out of control so fast, her head was spinning.

She turned to see herself from behind. The G-string fit her like a glove, but covered much less. The tiny bands of fabric that lay against her hips continued around to the small of her back. The stretchy fabric outlined the top of her buttocks, but left them bare. She’d never, ever, displayed so much skin. Her butt looked rounded and firmed, muscled from so many years of disciplined exercise, but the thong design let a thin strap of material part her rounded cheeks and delve into the crack between them.

That intimately placed strap of fabric bit. And rubbed.

She shifted in discomfort, but the binding material only moved with her.

How was she supposed to dance in this? She’d already used the bathroom to clean herself up once. With this intimate caress following her around, she’d be in a constant state of distress.

And arousal.

Oh, heavens.

She faced the mirror again. She couldn’t go out there where everyone could see her like this! Her breasts looked plump and firm, overspilling the tiny pink cups of the bikini top. She tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of herself. She’d always been self-conscious about how full she was up top. For as sleek and toned as the rest of her body was, her curves were generous. Almost too generous for a dancer.

But that’s what they wanted her to do – dance. Dressed like this. In that dreadful, conspicuous, tempting cage.

She pressed her legs together so tightly, her ankles rubbed and her knees ground.

‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered. She couldn’t stand it. Dancing was one thing, but the touching? By strangers? Men with sexual intent?

Her private area clenched, threatening to dampen again.

She doubted she’d be able to step out of this room in this get-up.

But she’d agreed to a deal.

The thought whispered through her mind. She didn’t give her word lightly, and there was a huge reward waiting if she lived up to her part. There was a reason she was here, stripped down bare. Her fingers clenched. She had a fundamental disagreement with the two men who stood somewhere outside the dressing-room door. What they called ‘pleasure’, she called ‘sin’. They might enjoy the things that went on in this club, but what about the dancers? Did they feel objectified? Ashamed? Dirty?

She hoped her church’s picketing had caused some self-analysis, but the situation had become stalled. Something needed to be done before a peaceful protest turned into something ugly. Bas had given her an opportunity to push past that barrier.

She just had to dance.

In these tiny strips of sparkly fabric.

That left her virtually naked from the back.

Her stomach twisted. ‘But you’ll get your way …’ she insisted to her reflection.

There was no way she was going to enjoy this. It was so much more than in her dream. More nerve-wracking. More scary. More immoral. Her palms were damp and her pulse was racing. The thought of walking out into the main room sent a wash of cold through her. And climbing up into that cage? She felt like she was going to be sick.

The end was worth the means, though, and the end was a foregone conclusion.

Now. She had to do it now before she lost her nerve.

The heels of her borrowed shoes clicked against the floor like a countdown clock as she walked to the door. Bas would be there to accompany her to the stage. She had to think of it as a stage, because that was what it was. Once she started thinking of it as a cage, she would lose it.

Her fingers were tremulous as she opened the door. When she saw the man waiting for her, her nipples pinched just as surely as if he’d reached out and nipped them himself.

Remy.

He was leaning against the wall again, his shoulders taking his weight, but he stiffened when he saw her. Her self-preservation instincts kicked in and she tried to close the door. He stopped her with one hand spread wide against it. Taking one step, he entered her space. His heavy gaze chafed as it moved down her body.

Alicia quivered.

The air had become charged, staticky and ready to spark. Goosebumps popped up on her skin and her breasts ached. Their tips were unbearably tight, pressing against the thin fabric and catching his attention. A muscle in his jaw worked.

She let out a surprised whimper when he rubbed the back of his hard knuckles over an engorged nub. That was it, just a nudge, a hard bumpy caress and her breast felt like it was on fire.

Unlike Bas, he didn’t smile. If anything, the line of his jaw only hardened.

The door swung open as he pressed on it harder and Alicia had to accept the inevitable. It was time. She had to dance.

If she didn’t, she knew she’d be flat on her back on the dressing room floor with this big, intimidating man rutting into her.

Her private area clenched again, and this time wouldn’t relax.

Hunt’s hand settled on her lower back as he accompanied her down the hallway. It felt hot and huge, his fingers tickling the line of her thong. She folded her arms over her stomach. Her breasts felt full and they bounced with every step she took. Her butt felt exposed and that insidious strap of fabric between her cheeks was driving her mad.

Too soon, they were out in the main room.

She sucked in a hard, nervous breath and felt every man’s gaze in the room turn to her. She felt vulnerable then. There was nothing between them and her. Their lecherous hands, those hungry eyes.

Instinctively, she moved closer to the big man at her side. His hand slid from her back to settle at her waist.

‘They’re looking at you because you’re hot,’ he said softly. ‘Dance, and they’ll be begging at your feet.’

Her breath hitched. She’d been told she was beautiful before, both in body and spirit, but being hot was something else entirely. It made her feel feminine. Womanly. Powerful.

‘I’m ready,’ she whispered.

The cage would protect her, put some solid bars between her and the crowd.

And deep down in that secret place inside her, she wanted to be trapped inside it. On display.

Alicia was vividly aware of her nakedness as she walked across the room. There was no place to hide and she felt the stares on every inch of her bare skin. Too soon, they were at the cage. A series of steps lifted her to the small enclosure. Hunt held her hand as she climbed, her thigh muscles quivering with every step. Her fingers wrapped around a bar as she stepped inside. It felt solid and sturdy. The door clicked shut behind her and she spun around.

Had it only been a short time ago that she’d walked into the front door of the Satin Club? Fully dressed with good intentions?

She watched the crowd as it started to gather around her.

She’d definitely crossed a line.

Silence boomed around her, and her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She wanted out. She needed to run.

But the music started then, and her eyes drifted closed. ‘Feel Like Makin’ Love’ by Bad Company. Her belly clenched. Oh, that was so not the song she needed, with its grungy groove and insinuating rhythm.

It got to her just like every other time she’d heard it.

The beat of the song awakened her muscles and the sensuality flowed through her veins. Still, she stood frozen. There were so many eyes upon her, so many men gathered round her tiny, elevated stage. Bold eyes, lustful eyes.

A steady green gaze caught hers. Bas. She looked at him, her panic mounting.

‘Dance,’ he mouthed.

Dance. Right. That was their agreement.

Her hair brushed against her back as she looked nervously from right to left. The club’s patrons had gathered around her and she was fully circled. Her skin tightened. She felt self-conscious and uncertain. Indecent. A high wolf-whistle permeated the air, competing with the soulful song, and her face flushed.

Dance.

She had to dance.

Five minutes and it would be over. She could get dressed, the club would go on hiatus and she could get her father and his followers to move on. Hopefully, somewhere far, far away.

Her hips gave a little twitch.

‘Ooo, baby. That’s right.’

She nearly laughed, she was so nervous. Really? That was all it took?

She closed her eyes and let herself slip further into the music. She’d always been able to vanish into its midst. Her hips started rocking, though her legs were still pressed together tightly. She made her arms drop from where they were wrapped around her waist.

The song really was wicked. It pulsated, advancing and retreating with clever guitars and a booming bass line. A groan sounded somewhere behind her, and her body loosened. All she had to do was listen and move. And it felt good to escape, to go somewhere else in her head and become someone entirely different. Suddenly, the music had her. She was in the song, in the moment.

Instead of growing louder, the small group of men around her went quiet, almost as if holding their breaths.

That was when she truly began to dance.

Staying firmly in the centre of her cage, she let the music take over. Her hips swung with the beat and her hands reached out to catch it. Her hair flew and her breasts swayed. The sensation made her bite her lip. She’d always had to lash her breasts down when she danced, to the point where her flesh couldn’t move. Here, today, her breasts were moving. They were swaying, jiggling and jouncing. She lifted her arms over her head and her head dropped back.

Mmm, it felt good.

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ someone said in a rough voice.

That’s right, honey, she thought. Her legs spread as she found better footing. She’d never tried to dance in heels so high, and they made her very conscious of her legs … and her bottom. The feel was unnerving. So bare, so perky, so –

Available.

She’d strayed from the safe zone and the tips of a stranger’s fingers glided over her left buttock. Alicia jerked so hard, her breasts nearly bounced out of the string bikini. Her body flashed hot and then cold – and then hot again. She spun around, her hair flying around her shoulders.

They couldn’t touch her there! They’d only stroked the other dancer’s legs. Below the knee. She could deal with that. Nobody had told her they could do more.

A young businessman stood with his arm outstretched into the cage.

She looked at him, wide-eyed and uncertain.

‘Come on, sweetie,’ he said. ‘Let me pet you.’

The Petting Zoo. Her panic flared, but somewhere in there was excitement, too. Her gaze searched the crowd, and she connected with an intense green stare. Bas’s eyebrows lifted.

It was her decision.

She was in charge.

She sucked in a hard breath. Someone swore, and her excitement mounted. So did her self-confidence. They could touch her – but only when she said so. And if she did this, nobody could argue that she’d dodged the bet. With her legs spread, she did a deep squat, almost a plié, before rising again with an exaggerated grind of her hips.

Her gaze connected with the man who’d touched her. He looked so boyish. Harmless. His fingers curled towards her, almost begging.

Power solidified in her chest. Remy had been right. She held the crowd’s attention in the palms of her hands, and they were all attracted to her. They liked what they saw. Her body and the way she used it pleased them.

It pleased her, too.

After so many years of rules and chastisement, the feeling was surprisingly freeing. A link or two of the chain that bound her broke and slipped away. Hesitantly, she turned, giving the man her backside again. Her skin prickled when she felt him and others staring. They could see every flex of her muscles, every shiver of her flesh.

She edged back one step and then another.

She shuddered when those strong fingers stroked her cheek.

Oh, this felt good.

Sinful.

Her breath went jagged when another hand cupped her right buttock. Cupped her and squeezed. Hard.

Oh, dear … dear … heavens!

‘Baby, you’re like velvet.’

Her eyes shut tight. Her body was suddenly guided not only by music but by touch.

More hands braved to reach through the bars. One lone finger traced the line where her bottom met her leg. Another stroked down her spine while a bold, calloused hand reached between her legs and stroked her inner thigh from her knee all the way up to –

She gasped, and her eyes flew open.

Her gaze connected this time with Remy’s.

His dark eyes were steady as always, hot and intent. And mocking?

The hand on her right buttock squeezed again, making her muscles bunch. He was watching the whole thing, just like she’d imagined.

Just like she’d fantasised.

Her breaths went short, and her … her womb pulled tight. She was suddenly so aroused, it hurt. Taking a bigger step back, she put herself fully into these strangers’ hands. Her body vibrated, threatening to spiral out of control.

‘Come on, honey. Give it to us. You know you want to.’

She did. With everything inside her, she did.

The music poured over her, while countless hands touched her. She watched Remy watching her and her anticipation mounted. She hadn’t known she’d wanted this, needed this. She danced and was rewarded with admiring hands, fingers and dark whispers.

She gripped the bars of the cage as her hips worked. Not being able to see the men helped her courage, but it made their touches more unsuspected. More shocking. Just when she thought she was getting used to them, a thumb slipped under the band of her thong.

‘Oh!’ she gasped.

It was the masterful hand that still clenched her right butt cheek, the one that had refused to let go. That firm thumb stroked up and down, up and further down … Her butt clenched when it slid between her cheeks, rubbing flesh that had never seen the light of day, much less felt a caress.

‘I don’t –’

‘You do.’ The voice was gruff behind her.

She looked over her shoulder and was surprised to find an older man with silver hair at his temples. He was handsome, fit and carried an aura of authority. Somebody’s boss, no doubt. Her gaze shied away. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at any of the men touching her. Not yet. But she didn’t move away as she looked to Bas for support. His eyes were hot and curious. He lifted his shoulders. It’s your decision, she could practically read.

The thumb stroked deeper into her crack, and her body shuddered, all thoughts of dancing gone. Move away. The decision should be easy. Just say no and step forward. The thoughts were just a whisper in her mind. They paled to the roar in her ears.

‘Bend over,’ the gruff voice said.

The silver-haired businessman. She couldn’t get the look of him out of her head. His instructions were simple, but devastating. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t –

But her body was no longer her own. Her motions were no longer guided by her training. They came from the gut, were driven by nature.

‘Bend. Over.’

And sexual need.

Another hand spread wide across her spine and pushed her forward. Alicia bent at the hips. The hand on her inner thigh pulled her leg outward and she widened her stance. She gripped the bars in front of her to retain her balance and to try to keep herself together.

Her fingers turned white when the thumb underneath her thong began wiggling. Her toes curled inside her shoes. She waited for that insidious touch to delve deeper between her legs. She was ready for the stroke, craving it, but she was stunned when instead that thumb flicked.

Every muscle in her body clenched when the crotch of her tiny panties was pushed aside. Another flick tucked it up in the notch between her vulva and her inner thigh, and she was exposed completely.

She squeaked in distress. That tiny placket of material hadn’t been much, but she’d relied on it to protect her modesty. Now it was gone. Her private womanly area was bared to all the strangers’ eyes. Her pink flesh. Her dampness. Her curls.

She wanted to die.

Behind her, there was a chorus of groans and moans.

‘Now that’s a pussy.’

She went white-hot at the word, but she remained bent over, frozen and trembling.

The tremble became a shudder when that masterful thumb slid over her, finally touching her. Her back arched hard. ‘Oh, please. I – I can’t –’

‘You’re so soft and gorgeous.’

It was the baby-faced businessman who’d first asked to pet her. A finger glided over her swollen flesh and slipped into a crevice. Her spine stiffened. Was that him?

More touches came, and her head bowed. How many were back there? How many were touching her? She couldn’t look again, any more than she could control her hips. The movement they were following was natural, guided by need and something more.

Desperation.

Oh, stars, she’d never felt like this. Her body was spiralling upwards, clenching tighter and tighter. Her skin felt hot and prickly. Her – her p-pussy was fluttering and so, so achy and wet.

A moan ripped through her lips when a determined finger circled her sensitive opening. Round and round, it stroked her until her hips were pressing back, the bars biting into her flesh.

‘Fuck her,’ someone growled. ‘She wants it bad.’

The finger penetrated her, going deep.

‘Ohhhhhhh,’ she cried.

From then on, everything circled in her head. The music, the thrill, the hands, the fingers, the kisses. Lips touched her butt as the one finger inside her became two, and she sighed in delight. She hadn’t expected gentleness.

She didn’t get much.

The pressure increased and her brow furrowed. Another finger had penetrated her, but was it from the same hand? They worked inside her, pumping like pistons until she didn’t care.

Someone played with her clit. The touch was shocking and intimate. She flinched away, but strong hands clenched her hips and offered her up. That touch was ruthless. Alicia looked down between her legs and watched as fingers tugged on her pubic hair and a thumb worried her overly sensitive nub.

‘God, look at her.’

Her eyes flew open and, in that moment, it was as if cold water had been thrown over her. No, not God. God couldn’t see this.

But Remy could.

Her gaze locked with his, and her nipples tightened until they threatened to poke right through the sequined material of her tiny bikini top. He’d touched her there, rubbed her briefly with his knuckles. The way she was bent over, her breasts were on display for him. They swung and juddered with every move she made.

And she was moving faster, almost jerkily now. Her breaths sounded harsh in her own ears.

‘That’s a hungry pussy,’ someone said.

Another tug at her curls. ‘I like that she doesn’t shave.’

‘I want to suck her.’

Her ears felt hot from talk like she’d never heard, but that didn’t stop the desire moving through her. The overwhelming need.

‘She’s close,’ another man said.

‘She wants this bad. Fuck her harder.’

No, not harder!

‘Yesss,’ Leesha groaned when the fingers inside her became rougher.

They weren’t moving in sync, and it felt like a hundred fingers were filling her. When they found their rhythm, her knees nearly buckled. The pressure was thick, and the fingers at her clit teased round and round. She lurched hard, though, when the pad of a foreign finger pressed directly over a place she hadn’t expected.

Her most secret place.

Panic washed through her. ‘Remy!’

It was Bas who came to her rescue. ‘No anal penetration,’ he barked at her side.

The crowd behind her went quiet for a brief moment.

‘Her ass is mine,’ Remy finally growled.

Someone behind her chuckled, and the momentary reprieve was gone. Her ass was his? Alicia felt herself going under as the finger-fucking intensified. Her pussy was theirs. Nobody was stopping them. Not Bas or Remy.

And not her.

She was so wet, her dampness dripped from her. Her hips were working. Fingers were plunging. A touch stroked over her inner thigh, picking up her wetness. It lay deliberately on the bud of her anus again. Shocked, she looked at Remy, but the finger obeyed the rules. It pressed firmly against her tender opening, touching her in a shocking way. Wetting her.

And it wouldn’t go away.

Was it the young businessman? The silver-haired boss? The black man she’d seen?

‘Oh … Oh!’

Her lungs worked like bellows, and her blood thundered through her veins. Her hips began to jerk hard and then the orgasm hit.

Like a tidal wave.

Right there in public, in front of a bunch of strangers who now knew her intimately, Alicia reached her sexual peak. A hoarse cry left her lips, reaching above the music that still wafted through the air. The fingers inside her stilled, grinding deeply and she shuddered again. That insidious touch on her anus swirled, and she dropped helplessly to her knees.

Pleasure.

She’d thought she’d known what it was.

She hadn’t had a clue.

She let it settle over her as another tremor clutched her and then gently left. The fingers slipped out of her as she rested in the middle of the cage, out of their reach. She was almost sorry when the hot finger on her anus left her, too. Her body felt warm, replete. Heavy. She let her hair fall forward to hide her face. Her muscles were relaxed and her womb was positively glowing. She’d never felt like this before. She’d never come like that, not in private. Not with someone she cared for.

A dark, scared feeling fleetingly passed through her chest.

What had she just done?

The door to the cage clicked as it opened. Another mark in time.

She felt herself lifted into strong arms and she curled against a muscled chest. She pressed her face into Remy’s shoulder as he carried her from the room. He wasn’t safe, but he was protective.

Alicia swallowed hard.

There was no argument to be had here. They had a deal, and they all knew how things had turned out. The Satin Club wouldn’t be closing down for a month; she’d just become their star employee. The truth couldn’t be hidden. Not here, not out in the open where everyone had laid witness.

They’d challenged her to dance and not like it. How could she have enjoyed it any more?

She’d just come for a group of complete strangers.