My bra comes off next, and as it falls to the floor, Grayson stands and walks over to the stage. His face is a mask of rage and anger. He makes toward me but is stopped by a bouncer. Fuck. I’m standing there in the middle of the stage like an idiot, until Diamond comes out and grips me by my hips. It looks like she’s putting on a little show, but really it’s to distract the men as she says into my ear, “Go, I’ll handle it.”
She starts to dance and I gracefully leave the stage. I cover my br**sts with my hands as I head straight to the changing rooms, and throw on a white corset and red shorts. I’d love to dress in my jeans and t-shirt but my night isn’t over yet. I walk out toward where Grayson was last seated but he isn’t there anymore; he must have left. He probably thinks so lowly of me now. I know he will never look at me the same. The manager on tonight, Henry, points toward the private rooms, and I cringe. I was hoping no one would request me tonight, but I guess I’m not that lucky. I square my shoulders and walk into the dimmed room. When I see Grayson sitting there staring up at me, my eyes widen.
“Hey,” I say breathlessly, gripping onto the door handle for support.
“Close the door,” he demands, and I do as I’m told. He’s wearing worn jeans and a black V-neck sweater, rolled up to his elbows.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of my short shorts.
He tenses. “I’m a paying customer.”
“What?”
“Dance, Paris. Or should I say, Snow,” he says, leaning back in the chair and eyeing me patiently. He wants a dance? He will get a f**king dance.
And then I hope I never see him again.
I start to move to the music, swaying my hips. I stand just out of his reach as I dance with sensual rhythm, grinding my hips in a circle. My head falls back as I roll my stomach like a belly dancer would. I avoid Grayson’s heated gaze, but I can actually feel his eyes on me. They burn. His hand comes out to try and grab me, but I take a step back. I raise my eyes to his, and a muscle ticks in his jaw as he watches me with unconcealed desire. My hands start on my stomach and work their way up and over my br**sts, then my neck. I spin and put my hands on the wall, sticking my ass out and moving seductively. I reach back and undo the zip on my top, letting it fall to the floor, my br**sts spilling forth. I turn slowly and let him take me in, his eyes on my naked br**sts. He licks his bottom lip.
“Come here,” he demands, eyes lifting to mine. He shifts his hips, and I can see his arousal straining against his jeans.
He wants me.
But I’m enjoying torturing him.
“No,” I tell him, continuing my dance. He grits his teeth together. I flash him a smug grin as I slide down onto my knees, spreading them apart. I watch as his lips mouth ‘fuck,’ as I run my hands over my br**sts as I watch him. He gets up and lifts me so I’m standing, his fingers on my hips. I walk back with him and push him so he’s back to his seated position.
“Paris,” he says, his tone pleading. When he rubs down the front of his jeans, a moan escapes my lips. My anger toward him turns to need, and unable to stop myself, I walk toward him and straddle his hips. His hands instantly come to my hips, holding me down so I can’t move away. His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths, as I slowly start to grind down on his cock. He’s hard as a rock, and I bite my bottom lip as I fall against his chest, and then stick my face in the crook of his neck as I push up on my knees. I’ve never given a dance like this before, and I hope he doesn’t think it’s like this for all my customers. Because it isn’t. It’s just for him.
“Fuck, Paris,” he growls into my ear.
“I want you,” I pant back.
“Fuck. Not here,” he says, and I sit back and realize just where we are and what’s going on. I move to get off his lap but he keeps me in place with his grip.
“I’m glad this is your last night here,” he says. I stare into his dark eyes and sigh.
“What are we doing, Gray?” I ask, panting slightly.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m taking you home.”
“Okay,” I murmur as I stand up. He picks my top up off the floor and helps me put it on. He asks me to give him a minute to calm down before we walk out. As we leave, Justin walks up toward the private booths, smiling at me. Fucking hell. Grayson tenses, then walks up to Justin and punches him right in the face. No hesitation, no thought, just hits him square in the jaw. Lucky today is my last shift or I would have gotten fired. Justin falls back against the bar, holding his jaw. Grayson walks up to him and says something to him, before he returns to me, takes me by the hand, and drags me out.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, feeling a little dazed.
“That’s Jake’s dad,” he says, putting me in the car and closing the door. Justin is Jake’s dad? Holy crap. So he’s the one who took pictures of me? I shudder at the thought and put on my seat belt. Grayson slides into the driver’s seat and looks over at me.
“Let’s get you home,” he says gently.
*****
“How does it feel to be unemployed?” Anaya asks around a mouthful of cereal the next morning.
I groan. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“You could get a real job in a bar. You know, instead of the one you made up,” she says, giggling. A lock of her red hair falls on her face, and she blows it away, and then continues to eat.
“Don’t make me throw something at you,” I sulk. Last night, Grayson drove me home, walked me to the door and said bye. Then he left. The drive itself was quiet and uneventful, leaving me confused and wondering where exactly we stand right now. Paul walks out of Anaya’s room wearing nothing but boxer shorts so I avert my eyes. He plops down on the chair next to my roommate and pulls her bowl of cereal closer to him, stealing her spoon and taking a bite.