The kitchen was my addition when I took over this place. Just a couple deep fryers, but it keeps asses in chairs longer. Every decision I make here turns a profit.
“Problem sorted, boss?” Katrina asks from behind the bar.
She’s the best bartender I have, an ex-military badass who’s seen real combat. Her muscular arms and no-bullshit attitude draw a specific type of customer, the kind who prefers strength over the usual skinny blondes writhing on stage.
I settle onto a barstool. She pours my scotch without being asked. “Delivery’s coming in the morning,” I say.” I’ll be here to receive it personally.”
The music cuts out, and Harold’s voice booms over the speakers. The Spin Doctor might have a ridiculous stage name, but he knows how to work a crowd.
“You picked a good night, gentlemen. We’ve got fresh meat.”
I turn toward the stage, scotch in hand. Nearly forgot about the new girl starting tonight. Starla usually has good judgment about talent, but I want to check out this new stripper’s act. Make sure she’s up to snuff.
“Let me introduce you to Temptress.”
The music starts, and she steps into the light. Takes a moment to adjust, blinking against the brightness. I let my gaze travel down her body slowly. Perky breasts, lean body, long legs. She’s tall, too. Perfect for this work.
Then I really look at her face.
My heart fucking stops.
Nina.
Seven years since that night, and here she is, walking toward the pole with just enough swing in her hips to make every man in this place lean forward. I never thought about tracking her down. I’m a one-and-done kind of man. But as I watch her spin around that pole in a dress that’s practically transparent, every detail of our night together comes flooding back.
The sounds she made when she came. The way her touch lit me on fire. How she felt wrapped around my cock.
She grips the pole like she was born for it, sliding down slow, controlled. The crowd cheers, but all I see is her body moving the way it did beneath me – perfect rhythm, perfect heat.
Arousal shoots through me, and my dick responds immediately. Fuck.
It wasn’t just the sex, though. We talked after.Talked.I don’t stick around for conversation, but Nina was different. Engaging. She made me laugh, which nobody does. For a split second that night, I thought about staying. Fucking her again, learning her story, letting myself actually connect with someone.
That thought scared me enough to make me leave fast.
Maybe I’d consider fucking her again now. She was that good. But this pull I feel, even after all these years, tells me that would be a mistake. I don’t fuck the dancers, and I don’t fuck anyone I might grow feelings for. Two rules I need to remember.
Even now, watching her pull that dress up to reveal her perfect ass, I feel something stir that goes way beyond wanting to get her naked. Something that feels dangerously close to...attachment.
I don’t do attachment. People leave when they can’t handle this life. Better to never let them get close enough to matter.
I drain half my scotch in one swallow, relishing the burn. Desire pulses through my veins as Nina continues her routine, every movement reminding me of how she felt writhing beneath me.
Her act ends with her opening her bra, showing the room those perfect tits. Her cherry nipples are hard, and I remember exactly how they tasted.
Christ. I’m practically panting.
I slam my glass down and slide off the stool. Office. Paperwork. Anything to get my head straight.
But the second I close my office door, I’m ripping open my pants and wrapping my hand around my aching cock. A hiss escapes as I stroke from base to tip.
Eyes closed, the image is crystal clear: Nina bent over, dark hair wild down her back, the flare of her hips beneath my hands as I fuck her from behind. The memory’s sharper than any woman I’ve been with since.
My hand moves faster. I remember the way she looked back at me over her shoulder, those grey eyes locking on mine. The warmth that lit me up in that moment?—
No.I bite my lip hard, pushing that memory away. That tender bullshit doesn’t matter.
Instead, I focus on how she looked on stage minutes ago. Her body’s changed over the years. Curvier now, fuller breasts, wider hips. Still gorgeous, maybe more so. In my mind, I trace those new curves, cup those fuller breasts as she rides me.
