“Really?” His mood shifted immediately, and I recognized that glint in his eyes. “So it's just you?”
I nodded, my stomach tightening. I really hoped he was going to take this where I thought it was going. I could use the release, and it would be more fun this way than to spend some extra time fantasizing in the shower.
“Take off your bra.” He leaned back in his chair, giving me a nice view of the way his t-shirt clung to his torso.
I gave him a seductive smile as I stood. Taking off my bra was a little more difficult than stripping in my work clothes, but I still managed to make it look sexy. By the time I kicked aside my panties and returned to the chair, Brock was already rubbing himself through his shorts.
“You are so fucking hot, you know that?” His voice was low. “I'll bet all the guys at The Diamond Club are all over you, wanting a piece of that ass.”
I stiffened. Brock and I didn't normally talk about my job, especially not like that.
“Play with your nipples.”
I shifted in my seat, still a bit shocked by his words. The arousal I'd felt before had waned with his mention of work, and now he was sounding more like he was giving orders than fooling around with his girlfriend. Rosa's comments came flooding back and, for the first time, I wondered if she was right.
“Come on, baby, let me see them get hard.” His words took on a smoother tone and he winked at me through the monitor. “Please.”
I couldn’t help it; a grinned at his little boy plea. He looked so cute when he pouted like that; all puppy dog eyed. I cupped my breasts and brushed my thumbs over my nipples and was rewarded when Brock growled low in this throat. I watched his hand move from the outside of his shorts to under the waistband. I smiled, feeling innately female knowing he was touching himself in reaction to watching me. Heat unfurled in my stomach, and I rolled my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, feeling a rush of pleasure as my skin grew more sensitive.
“Are you wet for me?” Brock asked. “Touch yourself, baby. Tell me.”
I kept one hand on my breast as the other moved between my legs. My fingers parted my folds, sliding in between. I wasn't as wet as I'd thought I'd be, but there was enough to slick my fingers as I moved them back up to spread the moisture and put pressure on my clit.
“Are you wet for me?” he asked again. “Come on, talk to me. Tell me, if I was there, could I slide right into that tight little cunt of yours?”
“Yes,” I hissed out the word as I slipped a finger inside.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Brock's breathing was getting heavier and I saw his hand moving faster. “You like it when I take you hard and fast, fuck you until it hurts.”
It was no longer a question and I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. My fingers moved back to my clit, trying to move myself along. I was hoping to turn my arousal into an orgasm and release some of this pent-up energy and stress. At least it didn't seem like Brock needed me to say much of anything. He was doing just fine on his own. I let his words wash over me, trying to use what he was saying to further turn me on.
“If you were here, I'd have you ride me. Watch those titties bounce. Love that.”
I moaned; no other response seemed necessary.
“Are you fingering yourself?” he asked suddenly. “Playing with yourself?”
With a start, I realized his eyes were closed.
“Yes.” I was still touching myself, but my movements slowed. I didn't know if it was just the whole over-the-computer thing or the way Brock was talking, but I wasn't really feeling it anymore.
“I wanna see you come.” His eyes opened. “Make yourself come for me.”
I stared at him for a moment, but he didn't seem to notice my hesitation as he pulled his cock from his shorts. His hand was stroking faster as he waited. Suddenly, I just wanted to be done so we could talk. I leaned back and spread my legs, giving him a good view of what I was doing. I might not have been the kind of person who was comfortable with casual nudity, but when it came to sex, once we'd already been together a couple times, something like this wasn't exactly embarrassing. Besides, I thought as I began to slide my finger in and out of my pussy; it wasn't like I was really making myself vulnerable here.
I began to moan and breathe faster, twisting my face into faux ecstasy.
This was as much acting as what I did on stage at the club.
I made myself go long enough to be believable before calling out his name. He wasn't far behind me, grunting as he came. He gave me a lazy smile as I excused myself to clean up and I assumed he'd do the same. When I returned, I was prepared to tell him I wouldn't be making a choice about Philadelphia until he came to see me in Vegas, proving he was the kind of man I could trust to keep his word.
He was gone.
I considered calling him back, but my heart wasn't in it. My pussy ached from not being able to relieve my tension, and I was starting to get a headache. I'd had a horrible day at work, and I was still fuckin’ miserable from this heat. All in all, I decided it was best to chalk the day up to a total loss, take a cold shower and go to bed.
Chapter 3
I didn't think Brock realized that the whole computer sex thing hadn't been as good for me as it was for him, and I wasn't about to tell him. Not when he'd called the next day to say he was flying in Friday night and staying the whole week. Rosa just rolled her eyes when I told, refusing to believe that Brock really was a good guy, and I was a little worried about how she'd be if Brock wanted to see the apartment. But before I'd been able to decide if I needed to talk to her about it, she'd announced she was heading down to Mexico to visit her mother, leaving me an empty apartment for the week.
With that headache out of the way, I went to work Friday night. I'd wanted the weekend off to spend with him, so asking for Friday as well had been out of the question. Brock had been very understanding when I'd told him and said he'd just have a taxi take him to his hotel and we'd meet up in the morning.
He’d been yawning and seemed really tired, so I never dreamed he had something else in mind.
The lights on stage were also blinding during the first number, leaving the audience faceless, so it wasn't until I went out for my first solo routine that I saw Brock. At first, I thought I was seeing things, but then his eyes met mine and I knew my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. It was Brock, sitting there smiling at him; and he wasn't alone.
Next to him was a young man who looked to be around Brock's and Reed's ages. He had a thinner face, with intelligent, bright blue eyes and thick black hair that looked like it could use a good haircut. I didn't need an introduction to know he was Julien Atwood. The Atwood family had been one of the most well-known families at St. George's, and even though Julien was four years older than me, he'd still been notorious even after he'd graduated. He was the family's black sheep, always doing things his own way and not conforming to the usual rich kid pitfalls like drugs and drunk driving. I hadn't realized that he and Brock had known each other or were still friends.
As the pair made their way to the end of the stage, I was suddenly grateful for my training. I didn't need much concentration to keep dancing because seeing Brock here definitely would've thrown me otherwise. As it was, my face flushed as he slid a bill into my g-string, his hand sneaking around my side to quickly pinch my nipple. I glared at him and saw Julien give him a startled look. I managed to finish my routine without further incident and hurried off stage to regain my composure.
What the hell had all that been about?
I leaned against the wall in the corner of the dressing room, ignoring the questioning looks the other girls threw my way. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall. It said something about the state I was in that my clothes were still in my hand, and I was standing there wearing only the tiniest piece of fabric the club could get away with. Usually I was pulling on at least a shirt as I walked off stage.
It took me nearly five minutes to pull myself together and regain my composure enough to pull on clothes and head back out into the club. Generally, between sets we were required to at least stand off to the side so that patrons could praise our work. At least that's how the bosses put it. Basically, it was a chance for the men to ogle us in skimpy clothes and make offers for public lap dances out here or private ones in the back. We were encouraged to mingle and most girls did although it wasn’t a requirement. It was the best way to make tips.
It wasn't money that made me venture out into the crowd. I'd spotted where Brock and Julien were sitting and began to work my way toward them, pushing aside hands that got a little too friendly.
“Hey, babe!” Brock jumped to his feet as soon as he saw me and grabbed me in a hug.
I let him linger for a moment before giving him a gentle push back. “Can't have everyone else getting ideas.” I smiled at him to show that his attentions weren't unwelcome, just not here. I didn't want the rest of the club thinking they could put their hands on me too.
Fortunately, Brock didn't seem to mind. “Piper, this is Julien Atwood. Julien, my girlfriend, Piper Black.”
“Nice to meet you.” I held out a hand and Julien shook it. His handshake was firm and he met my gaze, which I appreciated. Too many men under similar circumstances would've either looked away, embarrassed and uncomfortable or they would've been staring at my chest, remembering what was under my tight shirt.