Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel, Jamie Schmidt [best books to read now txt] 📗

“They teach you that in ballet school?” I wished I had a pillow to put on my lap to hide how she was affecting me.

“Girl Scouts.” She winked, going down to a low crouch and then up again.

“Fuck,” I breathed out in a tortured groan.

I was surrounded by half-naked women most days. Aside from a quick appreciation, I didn’t really notice it anymore. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Jackie. She danced close, her hips twitching seductively. I leaned forward, stopping myself from reaching for her at the last minute.

Shimmying, she raised her eyebrow.

When I just stared, Jackie strutted back to the pole and swayed her hips against it.

“Are you going to stay all the way over there?”

“Are you going to tip?” She smiled sassily at me.

“It’s my club.” I said.

She shrugged and mouthed the lyrics at me. “No.”

I probably should stop this, but it was too much fun. Reaching into my wallet, I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Holding it up between my fingers, I thought she was going to call it off. She stumbled a bit and looked uncertain, but then she tossed her hair, losing herself in the music. Then she dropped into a one-handed plank and did a push-up into some yoga position I barely recognized, before crawling on her hands and knees to me.

“Holy shit,” I said hoarsely, the bill dropping to the floor.

She climbed on to the sofa and straddled my lap. I slipped my hands under the elastic of her panties to grab a hold of her sweet ass. Clutching the back of my head, she tugged it back so I was looking at her pretty face instead of at her soft round breasts that were hard and begging to be fondled.

“Are you supposed to touch the dancer?” she asked, swaying to the music

“You can call security if you want.” I said and nearly came in my pants when she sank down on my erection and rubbed against it.

Her eyes glazed over in pleasure. Holy crap, this was turning her on. I was going to go off like a rocket. Jackie’s fingers dug into my shoulders as she ground herself against me again. We were both breaking Las Vegas decency laws right now if she had been an exotic dancer and I had been her client. But I didn’t give a fuck.

I kissed her pouty mouth. She tasted like rum and lime and I wondered if she was sober enough to consent. Reluctantly, I eased back. It was hard to hold my resolve when her eyes remained closed and her lips were still parted. Her hips swayed over me, barely grazing my pants. It was taking all my effort not to thrust up into her. She’d make a fortune on lap dances.

“Jackie.” I cleared my throat. “It’s getting close to the point of no return here. And I’m about to break my number-one rule.”

“Hmm?” she asked, opening her eyes.

The song faded out and the only sound in the VIP room was our rough breathing. I didn’t want her to stop, but I could see clarity coming back into her eyes. That and a look of horrified disbelief.

“What’s your number-one rule?” she whispered.

“No fucking in the VIP room,” I said hoarsely. “You got your shot on stage.”

Chapter Six

Jackie Mitchell

What the absolute fuck just happened? It felt naughty, but oh so right. I touched my kiss-swollen lips. That was a hell of a dance, one that could have quickly gone nuclear. I had stumbled off him and gotten dressed, not daring to look him in the eye. All he would have had to do was crook his little finger and I’d be back in his lap. I wasn’t sure what would be worse—if he had or if he’d just shrugged off the experience. Things like that probably happened to him every day. Things like that only happened to me in Las Vegas.

Vegas was a temptation. Especially for someone like me. I’d spent most of my life denying myself for others—mostly my sister. I hadn’t been in town twenty-four hours before the reckless feeling of freedom led me into a hot time with a sexy stranger. The erotic haze faded as the cool air-conditioning in the rental car kicked in. My face was on fire, and my body kept playing back how Miles felt underneath me. I’d rubbed myself all over his hard muscles. I squirmed a bit and let out a small sigh. It hadn’t been enough, and I really wanted more with him.

I would never be able to do that with a paying customer. Or could I?

Catching a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, I looked flushed and a little wild. That wasn’t me. But maybe it was. The last time this had happened, I blamed all the shots we did. I wound up dancing in a bar that had suspended bird cages sized for adults. And then I took a bouncer home for the weekend.

“I have a type,” I said aloud. The GPS piped up that I needed to turn left and the destination would be on my right.

If I was going to become a stripper this week, type didn’t matter. According to Miles and the other dancers I’d spoken with, the only thing that mattered was the money. Lisa hadn’t hustled and they had hated her for it. I needed the dancers at Dalton’s to accept me so that I could figure out what went wrong with Lisa and maybe get a few clues as to where she went next. But I didn’t want to be intimate with strangers I wasn’t attracted to. I doubted Miles would pay me for a lap dance every night—not that I wanted him to. For him, I’d do it for free.

I was willing to dance on stage and do a striptease. I wasn’t ashamed of my body. I had trained hard even when being a professional dancer was out of the question, because in the back of my mind, I