Private Dancer. Kimberly Dean

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СКАЧАТЬ 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, СКАЧАТЬ