скачать книгу бесплатно
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.
