Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
High-pitched giggles reminded him where he was and he winked at the girls. They were whispering and holding their phones, no doubt recording the whole thing to torture Fitch later. Ansel kind of felt sorry for the guy. After all, he was clearly at the club because of his sister and had been manipulated into a situation which made him uncomfortable.
His displeasure wasn’t because he was a bigot. There was no animosity in his eyes. No, it was something else.
Ansel stepped closer and rubbed a palm down Fitch’s arm.
“I’m going to give you the best damn lap dance you’ve ever had,” he said low enough so the witnesses couldn’t hear him over the music.
Grumpy’s nostrils flared again. “I’ve never had one before.”
Ansel couldn’t hide his surprise. “Really? A big handsome guy like you?”
Fitch shrugged, but the movement didn’t loosen him up at all. In fact, the closer Ansel got, the stiffer Fitch became, and not in the good way.
Ansel was tempted to give the guy a break and take it easy on him. Maybe perform a simple air dance and be done with it.
He wasn’t a total tramp.
But, shit, Fitch licked his lip again, and all those good intentions went flying out the nearest exit. A straight guy, a lap dance virgin, and showing clear signs of arousal?
Ansel would lose his slut card if he didn’t work this guy like a stripper pole and change his fucking life.
Just as Britney started to pant the lyrics to “Breathe On Me,” he kicked Fitch’s legs wider and positioned himself between them.
“You ready, baby?” he whispered, not really expecting a reply, which was good, because he didn’t get one. The only reaction was the subtle tightening of the muscles in Fitch’s jaw and the hastily indrawn breath.
Ansel lifted the corner of his mouth and turned away. Yeah, let Grumpy get an eyeful of his ass on display in the lace shorts. Everyone always said he had a great ass. He arched his back in time with the music and bent his knees enough to almost sit on Fitch’s lap. Almost. He kept moving and swaying, raising his arms and touching himself. He used his core muscles to lean back and rest his head on Fitch’s shoulder, thrusting his hips into the air. Sweat broke out and his abs ached from holding the position, but his wasn’t the only heart beating too fast.
Fitch’s panting breaths warmed Ansel’s neck and caused a shiver of arousal to twist down his chest. When he finally lowered onto the guy’s lap, Fitch grunted at the contact, sending another cascade of lust down Ansel’s spine to pool in his balls. He rubbed and teased, knowing his scent would twist itself in the fabric of Fitch’s shirt.
Each time Fitch inhaled, he’d smell the perfume, and he’d remember Ansel. He’d remember this dance.
And for some reason, that got Ansel’s heart pumping and skin tingling. He circled his arms around Fitch’s head to cradle him close. His fingers forked into the short hair at the man’s nape. The heat at his back, the pressure near his ass, and Fitch’s hot breath stirred his passion higher until his cock filled within the tight confines of his shorts. No doubt clear as day to anyone who cared to see.
But he didn’t care. It didn’t matter that he’d never gotten hard at work before. It didn’t matter that he was in the middle of a crowded club or that the man he was dancing for was clearly straight.
Right now, it was like he was in a bubble where only the two of them existed. And it felt amazing. God, he’d climb a mountain in heels if he could feel this good every night.
What a scary fucking thought.
During the bridge in the music, he lifted off Fitch’s lap and bent forward to run his hands over his legs, circling his hips in time with Britney’s breathing. When the last verse started, he turned around and straddled the man’s lap. Fitch huffed a breath and closed his eyes. He clenched his teeth so hard, Ansel was afraid they’d crack under the pressure.
The urge to tease was too powerful to ignore. He leaned close and licked the man’s scruffy jaw.
Fitch growled. Ansel shivered.
God, yes, that was good. Maybe he could convince Fitch to meet him in the bathroom later. He’d bet a week’s worth of tips the guy had a thick cock. He leaned close, circling his arms around Fitch’s shoulders so he could grip the back of the chair, and was enveloped by the subtle scent of aftershave and musk.
“Do you like it?” he asked softly, seductively.
Fitch let out a slow breath before speaking, “No.” He didn’t open his eyes.
Ansel laughed and flung his head back, raising his hips up higher until his erection rubbed into Fitch’s chest. When he curled up and over, his hair tumbled down to hide them from the rest of the room.