From the author of one of my favourite books, the heartwarming The Boy Who Sneaks in my Bedroom Window, comes a New Adult standalone romance between a motorcycle racing hottie and a pole dancer, and today I have a never seen before exclusive bonus scene from Carson’s POV for you…
The first meeting
“Come on. Live a little. It’s your eighteenth! We have to go to a strip club! Now you’re actually legal to drink, so we have to abuse that fact!” Gary persuaded, wrapping his arm around my neck and rubbing his knuckles in my hair.
Laughing, I pushed it off me and quickly ran a hand through my hair to style it again. “Damn it, Gary! That took me ages to get my hair to look right,” I joked.
He grinned, nodding towards the entrance to the club again. My other friend, Michael, was right there next to Gary, shooting me the begging eyes too as they both waited for me to make up my mind. I let out a groan. Was it absolutely necessary that we went in here? Surely, for my birthday, we could do something that I wanted to do? All I wanted was some food and a sports bar! Michael gestured to the club, his expression pleading.
Outnumbered. Great. Just f*cking great!
“Fine! We’ll go to the damn strip club, but just know that I hate you for making me look at half-naked, beautiful girls. What the hell kind of birthday is this anyway?” I joked, roughly shoving Gary in the direction of the door.
The sexy, thumping music drifted down the stairs as we made our way up to the concessions booth. I sighed, already wishing this night was over. These kinds of places had never interested me at all. These girls just didn’t do it for me in the slightest. To top it all off, it was a members-only club, so we each had to fork out twenty quid for a one-night membership. I tried not to glare at my two best friends. There was not a chance in hell that we could afford to drink in this place.
“Guys, easy on the drinks in here, okay? I bet it’s really expensive, and I don’t want to get caught short or anything,” I muttered quietly.
They barely paid attention to me, though, because the blonde behind the counter was wearing a white, barely there, skintight vest top with Angels Gentleman’s Club emblazoned across one breast. I dug my finger into Gary’s ribs to get his attention off the cloakroom attendant.
“You’re practically f*cking dribbling,” I muttered, shaking my head.
He laughed, and the blonde smiled at him sweetly before taking our coats and handing Gary a ticket for them. As we headed into the room, I took a seat at the nearest available table. It was quite far away from the stage, but that was actually a good thing. I didn’t want to be too close. At the edge of a stage, a load of well-dressed but seedy-looking men were grouped, all pushing money into the thong of a dancing girl.
Sitting back in my chair, I let my eyes drift down the dancer’s body. Though she wasn’t my type at all, even I had to admit that she was hot—well, in a plastic type of way.
“Wow! Look at the rack and arse on that!” Michael hissed, his eyes glued to her behind as she shook it to the beat of the song.
There was movement at my side, so I glanced up, putting on a fake smile so that no one would know that I would rather be anywhere other than here. And that was when it happened. That was the exact moment that my world seemed to tilt on its axis. I met…her. The angel on legs. The sexiest, most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.
Her long, blonde hair hung in loose curls down to her shoulders, and the way the light caught it seemed to make it shine different shades. Her chocolate-brown eyes were wide and a little bewildered as she looked down at me. A beautiful smile graced her full, pink lips. She was stunning, breath-taking, and this was the best birthday ever.
“Hi, guys. I’m Emma and I’ll be your waitress for the night. There’s a drinks menu on the table, so have a little look through it and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to take your order.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. She actually seemed a little flustered and nervous. She certainly didn’t look like she belonged in a place like this.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out so I closed it again and just nodded like a complete and utter moron. Just say hi, dickhead. Two little letters. One syllable. Say it! I mentally willed myself.
Before I could even force out what was sure to be something embarrassing and inappropriate, she flashed another one of those little smiles and turned to walk off. That was when I clocked her body.
I grunted in appreciation. She was wearing a little, white vest top that clung to her small but perfect-looking breasts. The top didn’t quite meet the material of her black booty shorts, so it exposed a strip of her flat stomach. The shorts barely covered her arse, so I could see the bottom of her bum cheek just poking from the material. It was so perfect and peachy looking that I had the strong urge to cup it. Her long, toned legs just seemed to go on forever. She was perfect, flawless, beautiful, and f*ck, I wanted her so much that I was sure it would kill me by the end of the night.
Oh, she is definitely going in the wank-bank. Straight to the f*cking top of late-night, lonely fantasies.
I gulped and turned back to Michael and Gary, expecting them to be staring after her the same as I was, but they were still watching the girl on stage.
“Did you see our waitress? Shit, I’m gonna have to ask her out,” I said, nudging Gary to get his attention.
He frowned, his eyes not leaving the dancing girl that was hanging upside down on a metal pole. “You can’t ask out a dancer. It’s not allowed.”
Not allowed? Seriously? That can’t be right, can it? “How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “A lap dancer, dude? Really? As if you stand a chance with a freaking lap dancer!” he mocked, laughing and shaking his head.
I frowned, knowing he was right. I wasn’t even in this girl’s league. She was so hot that it was insane and no doubt had guys falling over her all the time, too. Why would she be interested in a stupid, just-turned eighteen-year-old who had no real skills or education?
I sighed dejectedly and flicked my eyes over to her. She was leaning on the bar, talking to a guy with brown hair. She laughed, and a rather inappropriate amount of jealousy built in the base of my stomach. I hadn’t even managed to say hello to her, yet that guy had already made her laugh. I was being irrational, I knew this, but that didn’t diminish the jealous feeling at all.
“Yeah, I guess,” I muttered in defeat, forcing my eyes away from her bum and legs.
Gary slapped me on the shoulder. “Seriously? What would your mum think if you brought home a lap dancer to meet her?” He laughed again.
I couldn’t help but frown. My mother would be pissed—that was for sure—but she’d get over it. This girl seemed cute and so damn beautiful that I couldn’t help but want to get to know her a little more, find out what made her laugh and smile. A job was just a job, after all. It didn’t define a person.
I shrugged in response, and he rolled his eyes. “Dude, trust me. Dancers aren’t allowed to date customers. It’s probably in their contract. It’s their job to look pretty and flirt with the customers, not date them. You’d make yourself look like a complete and utter prick if you asked her out. Trust me. She won’t be interested in you,” he said, looking at me apologetically. “Though maybe you should just so I can watch the car crash of her having to reject your arse,” he added playfully.
I frowned but nodded, deep down knowing he was right.
“Look, let’s celebrate your birthday in style. Just watch the show. We’ll have a few drinks, and maybe you can get your little waitress to shake her thing for you. Then you can wank yourself to sleep thinking about her,” Michael suggested, waggling his eyebrows.
I snorted a laugh. “Already had that planned. Don’t worry,” I confirmed.
The lights in the club dimmed and another dancer slinked onto the stage, shaking her assets, swinging around the pole, and grinding on it provocatively. Even though it was a sexy sight, it couldn’t hold my attention and my eyes wandered off to the waitress again as I wondered if she ever danced like that on stage. Now that would hold my attention!
Emma smiled over at me as she picked up her order pad from the bar and then started heading over to us. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
Oh, f*ck. Act cool. Don’t make a twat of yourself for once, Carson. Just play it safe and stick to friendly conversation. Do not attempt to flirt with her because it’ll end in disaster!
“Hey, so, have you guys decided?” she asked in her sexy, throaty little voice.
I stared at her, deciding that her big, brown eyes looked a little worried and her posture was a little too tense for her to be comfortable. Maybe she didn’t like working here… Maybe she had no choice. I silently wondered what possible reason a beautiful girl could have for working in a place like this. It had to be for money.
My gaze raked over her fresh, innocent-looking face. She was young. She had to be at least eighteen to work here at the club though—which meant that I, having turned eighteen today, would be her toy-boy. I smiled at the thought.
Something flat and light hit me in the face. I flinched, instantly turning to glare at Michael, who was laughing hysterically because he’d just hit me in the face with the drinks menu and made me look like a complete prick in front of the hottest girl I’d ever seen.
“You gonna order or what, Carson? I’m betting she doesn’t have all night to stand there while you check her out,” he teased, laughing.
Emma giggled, chewing on her lip as she dropped her eyes down to her order pad.
Squirming in my seat, I tried hard not to let my embarrassment show. “Er, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something. Um, I’ll have a vodka and Coke?” I replied, making it sound more like a question.
She smiled and scribbled on her pad as the other two ordered their drinks, too, before she headed off back to the bar again with a sexy little sashay of her arse that made my dick shift in my trousers.
I gulped and looked back at Michael. “You stupid shit! Did you have to make me look like a wanker in front of her?” I asked, closing my eyes and mentally counting to ten.
He laughed wickedly. “Oh, come on. It was plain to see you were practically eye-shagging her! Jeez, get a grip. You don’t stand a chance with a lap dancer. Let’s just get wasted!” He shrugged and looked back to the girl on stage.
I groaned and nodded. He was right. I had no chance with this girl at all; after all, I couldn’t even speak to her without making myself sound like a loser. I would never get a girl like that in my life.
Gary’s elbow nudged my ribs. “Score the woman on stage—ten being the most, one to the least,” he instructed, obviously trying to change the subject.
“Eight,” Michael answered immediately. The girl slid down the pole and landed doing the splits at the bottom before lowering her head and tracing her tongue across her own shin. “Shit, better make that a nine. She gets extra for flexibility,” he added quickly.
Gary laughed. “I’d say eight. What about you, Carson?”
I shrugged noncommittally. “Five?” I offered. She had fiery-red hair and obvious larger-than-needed fake breasts. In my opinion, that just wasn’t sexy.
They both turned to me, sheer shock on their faces.
“Five? Are you blind?” Gary gasped.
I shrugged in response.
“What about your waitress?” he probed, nodding over my shoulder.
I turned back and looked at Emma again. Instantly, my dick got a little harder. I groaned. She really had some talent. Most girls had to at least work for it. I’d never got an erection without a heavy make-out session, yet this girl had earned one and I hadn’t even touched her.
Both of my friends laughed wickedly, and then Emma was walking back towards us carrying a tray of drinks and wobbling a little in her classless, white high-heel shoes. She looked so out of place here. She would probably be more at home in a pair of jeans and a hoodie; it would probably suit her better, too. As she set the tray down on our table, her toned leg accidentally brushed against mine. My breath caught in my throat because of how close she was.
So close, yet nowhere near close enough!
“Right, guys. It was a Captain Morgan and Coke, a bottle of Bud, and a vodka and orange, right?” she asked, passing the drinks out. Suddenly, she winced as she looked at me. “Rubbish. You said vodka and Coke. Damn it! Sorry. I’ll just go change it. I’m so sorry. My writing sucks. I guess the C looked like an O to the barman,” she apologised. As she went to pick up my drink, I took her hand, shaking my head.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just drink that. It’s fine.” I smiled, trying not to rape her with my eyes like I had done last time she was stood there.
With my hand over hers, I couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was. She didn’t try to rip her hand away from mine, so I got to feel what it would be like to hold her hand. I liked it. I liked it a lot.
She smiled apologetically. “I’m really sorry. I’m just learning the codes and stuff they write on the orders. Are you sure? I can change it.”
I shook my head and reluctantly let go of her hand. I felt the loss immediately and wanted to grab her again, pull her onto my lap, and talk to her all night. Well, that wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do to her all night…
“It’s fine, Emma.”
She sighed and looked at me gratefully. “Thanks. I get charged for mistakes. I think I’m going to be making a lot of them in the next few days.” She frowned uncomfortably.
“Oh, yeah? How come?” I asked, watching as her hair fell around her face. She was obviously growing out a fringe because the front was just below her eyes and she kept tucking it behind her ear.
“It’s my first night tonight. I have no idea what I’m doing,” she replied, laughing. “Maybe you should have chosen another section to sit in, because I’m liable to get everything wrong for a couple of hours until I find my feet.”
This is her first night? No wonder she looks so out of place and vulnerable! “It’s your first night? Kind of a busy night to start on a Saturday though. Couldn’t they have eased you in on a different night?” I asked, sipping my drink and trying not to gag. I hated orange juice.
She shrugged. “I guess I have to get used to it. I’ll only be working weekends, so…” she trailed off, twirling the little tray around in her hands.
“Oh, really? Maybe I’ll see you a lot then. I’m a member here,” I stated. Holy shit. Why did I say that? I can’t afford to be a member here! Damn it, I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to girls!
She smiled warmly. “Yeah? That’s good. At least I’ll have one friendly face then. Some of these other guys seem a little scary. It’s a little gross the way they look at me, like they want to eat me or something.” She looked around and shuddered a little.
I recoiled. Was I looking at her like that? Because I definitely wanted to eat her! “Yeah. It’s gross,” I confirmed, trying to keep my tone light even though my heart was hammering so loudly in my chest that it could probably rival the club’s awesome bass system. “So, have you done any dances yet then? This being your first night and all?” I questioned, biting my lip.
I had no idea why I was so interested in this girl. She was a lap dancer, and my mother would hate her, but I just couldn’t stop talking to her. All around me, there were half-naked girls, yet, in that moment, I would have rather been anywhere with her instead of here.
Emma’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink as she shook her head timidly. “They taught me how. I had to take a class on it, but I haven’t done one yet.”
I groaned internally. I couldn’t help but be relieved that she hadn’t shaken her sexy arse for anyone else. I wanted a dance. Not just any dance though—I wanted to be her first. Actually, I wanted to be her only. The thought of her giving other guys dances made me feel a little sick with jealousy—which wasn’t a good sign considering I’d only known her for less than fifteen minutes.
“I could be your first if you want. You know, give you a test run,” I offered. I racked my brain for the price. I’d looked at the board outside when we walked in but hadn’t paid much attention to it. In the back of my mind, I remembered reading £50. I gritted my teeth, praying that I had fifty in my wallet, because otherwise, that would be embarrassing as hell.
Emma’s blush deepened as she squirmed a little on her feet. “You really want one? I mean, it might suck. Maybe you should get one of the other girls to do it for you.”
I shook my head. “I want you to do it. I want to be your first.” I struggled not to add, and only on the end.
She laughed uncomfortably and nervously nibbled on her lip. She was definitely too good for a place like this. “Okay. I’m really sorry if this is bad. If you don’t like it, then don’t pay, okay?”
I nodded and held my breath. Oh shit. Is this really happening? Am I really sitting in a club with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, who’s about to dance for me in a sexy little outfit?
A new song started as she pushed the tray onto the table and stepped closer to me. I gulped noisily.
And then it started. The most painfully erotic thing that had ever happened to me.
She began swaying her hips, gripping her hair, grinding her little arse on my crotch—which was, of course, already standing to full attention. I moaned at the feel of it and clenched my jaw tight, trying to stay in control, when all I wanted to do was grab her and rip her clothes off. I gripped my hands in my hair. My body trembled with desire as I let my eyes wander over her perfectly formed frame, taking in every delicious inch of her.
She turned around to face me, putting one knee on the little sofa next to me, gripping my shirt, and rubbing her chest up against mine.
F*ck this is hot! F*ck. F*ck. F*ck!
The three and a half minutes seemed to take forever to pass. Yet, at the same time, they felt like they went in the blink of an eye. I wanted more—definitely more of that—but I couldn’t afford it. My mind was whirling. I needed to work my arse off now to get signed to a race team. If I was going to be getting a membership to this bloody expensive club and paying for dances every week, then I needed to make sure I got signed to a good team so I could afford a high-maintenance lap dancer!
She smiled when the song finished, her eyes almost appearing apologetic. “That was bad, wasn’t it? You don’t have to pay me. Sorry. That was bad… Oh, man, I should have asked for more lessons,” she rambled, shaking her head, blushing harder.
Holy crap. Can I actually speak? I could almost taste the arousal in my mouth; I wanted her so much that it was actually painful. I was so hot for her that, with one more touch, I would probably blow my load inside my clothes. I had a feeling that a little trip to the bathroom to crack one off was the only thing that was going to get rid of my boner.
“Emma, that was incredible. If I could afford another one, then I would be asking for it right now,” I said honestly, my voice husky and thick with lust.
She smiled and her whole face lit up. “Really?” she asked.
I nodded in confirmation. That was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
She bit her lip, making my already hard dick ever harder. “Well, seeing as you were kind of an experiment, how about I call that one a free sample and you pay for next one?” she offered.
Holy f*ck yeah!
“Er, if you want to…then yeah, sure.” If you want to? Smooth, Carson. Real smooth!
She didn’t answer, just turned her back on me and launched into another dance, grinding her arse dangerously close to my poorly concealed erection. I groaned and watched her do her thing, praying that this night would never end.