Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(6)

He was hard.

And he was big. The outline of his erection was obvious as it pushed against his white boxer briefs. His cock was long and thick, and I could see a teasing hint of the head of it through the material.

My clit ached. I didn’t realize how turned on I was until just now. Was he turned on too? By me? He had to be. I knew getting hard was part of a stripper’s job, but he didn’t strike me as the everyday stripper.

The music changed in the background from the unknown tune to the erotic, slow beat of The Weeknd’s “High For This.” It only served to turn me on a little more. I was aching everywhere, my * almost painfully so.

I resolved there and then that the next guy I dated would be a stripper.

The man in front of me drew me back to him by running his hand down his stomach and along the side of his cock. My lips felt dry, and when my tongue flicked out to wet them, he grasped my chin. Slowly, he shook his head and ran his other hand up my thigh.

Then he climbed on top of me. Kind of. He wasn’t actually sitting on me, but his knees were on the sofa cushions either side of my hips, and his erection came dangerously close to brushing my stomach as he thrust his hips forward.

Bravely, I touched his body, running my hands across the deep valleys indented between his muscles, exploring every solid inch as he continued dancing against me. My clit literally throbbed as my skin tingled with warmth, even when his breath cascaded across my skin.

He dipped his mouth toward my ear. “Tell your friend I’m not charging her for this.” He wound his hand in my hair, and I involuntarily tilted my head back. “It’s on me.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I can.” He flicked his tongue against my earlobe, making me shiver.

He couldn’t do it for free.

“I insist.”

“I insist it’s free.”

“Why?”

He moved back the smallest amount and looked into my eyes. “I’m a man of great restraint, Mia, but dancing for you is pushing the boundaries of my self-control. You’re beautiful, and very, very tempting.” He ran his thumb across the curve of my jaw and cupped my chin. “Now, let me finish before it breaks.”

“Wait,” I heard myself say. No... I wasn’t going to proposition him, was I?

Fuck it.

I was.

I trailed my fingers across his stomach, and my baby finger caught in the sharp Sex-God-V-Line muscle that disappeared beneath his boxers, my touch missing his erection by half an inch. His hips half jerked away from me. He wasn’t dancing anymore.

“I have a room at Planet Hollywood,” I murmured, staring at his cock. “Eight oh two.”

“Are you inviting me to f*ck you, angel?”

I raised my eyes to his. The slight hint of amusement reflected back at me, but his gaze was primarily heated lust.

“Yes,” I answered boldly. Fuck it. I was there now. “I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life, and I’ve been known to suck until I swallow. Your choice.”

He froze for a split second before lowering his face back to mine. His lips were inches from mine, his breath dancing across them. “I’ve never done this,” he said in a low voice. He stood and, grasping my thigh, knelt forward. Then he hooked my leg over his hip. Wrapping one hand around the back of my neck, he grazed his mouth along to my jaw to my ear, and I fought back a harsh shiver. “But I’ll leave there ten minutes after you and meet you there.”

My face turned toward his, my teeth sinking into my lower lip for the hundredth time that night, and I grazed my nails across his lower stomach. “How will you know when I go?”

“I have my ways.” That dirty smirk formed on his lips again, and after squeezing my leg, he got up. He grabbed his pants and, as he pulled them up, said, “Now, go back out there and enjoy yourself. I’ll make sure another bottle of champagne finds its way to your table. For the bride-to-be, of course.”

I grasped the bottom of my dress and met his eyes, my mouth tugging up into a coy smile on one side. “Of course.”





I stared at my hotel room door, wringing my hands in my lap.

I was insane. I mean, I’d known it for a long time, but my actions earlier had cemented it. Proposing sex to a stripper?

In my defense, and it was all I had left, if the man moved his hips like that in the club, I was kinda interested in how he moved them in a bed. If it was anything like he moved them there...

I slapped my hand against my forehead. God, I really was insane. The second we landed back in San Diego, I needed to call a therapist and get my head checked. Random one-night stand with a guy whose name I didn’t know? Mind you, though, the dating-guys-whose-names-I-did-know thing wasn’t exactly working out for me. I had a long list of break-ups and equally shitty reasons to go with them.

“You make more money than I do.” Sorry you felt like I emasculated you with my career I’d worked hard for while you flipped burgers part time.

“I kinda sorta slept with someone else.” Kinda sorta? What’d you do? Put it in her belly button? Her ear?

“I accidentally kissed my ex-girlfriend, and now, we’re getting back together.” ‘Cause you slipped and fell on her mouth, right?

And my personal favorite: “I’d rather see other people. Men. I’m gay.” Nothing like being the girl to make a guy realize he no longer had to be confused about his sexuality.