Sinful Desires Vol. 3(4)

He held me as we waited for our breathing to return to normal and I could feel him shrinking inside me. He stroked my hair, then ran his fingers down my spine and back up again, sending a shiver through my exhausted body.

“God I needed you,” he said, breaking the silence between us.

I nodded, then reluctantly pushed myself up, feeling his softened cock slip away. Aside from the fact that the way I'd been sitting was making my thighs hurt, I couldn't stay here much longer. I was at work.

My face flushed as I realized the full weight of what I'd done. I'd prided myself on not being like the other girls, at keeping my distance from the men in the audience. Everyone knew I didn't do private dances and I sure as hell didn't fuck on the clock.

I reached over to the card reader and stopped the timer on it. Granted, it hadn't been like I'd been with some random guy, but the truth still remained that I'd just gotten paid to have sex.

“I know you have to get back to work.”

Brock's voice drew my attention. He was standing and tucking himself back into his pants. I suddenly remembered that I was naked and started looking around for my clothes.

“Julien and I are going to head back to the hotel and get some sleep. You said you're off tomorrow, right?”

I nodded as I pulled on my thong.

“How about you swing by the hotel like around four or five?” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “We'll have some fun.”

“All right,” I agreed.

Brock was already heading out before I'd finished saying the words and I watched him go. I wrapped my arms around my middle, as if I found the air conditioning to be too much, though I knew the chill I was feeling had nothing to do with the temperature in the club. This coldness was deeper. I didn't think it would go away any time soon.





Chapter 4

It took me longer than usual to get to sleep after work, so I didn't wake up until early afternoon. Without Rosa bustling about, it was actually fairly quiet in the apartment and I took advantage of it by being a bit lazy and taking my time. Besides, it was my day off and I was going to spend the evening and most of the night with Brock – and Julien, I now realized – so I wanted to savor the time alone. I was glad Brock was here and I wanted to be with him, but I so rarely had the opportunity for guaranteed uninterrupted time to myself that I certainly wasn't going to waste it.

By the time I was on my way to Brock's hotel, I'd already enjoyed a long, slow shower and a leisurely brunch while reading a book: my idea of a great morning. I was feeling relaxed and was ready to enjoy whatever the weekend threw my way.

I'd dressed for the heat in a cute mint green sundress, but in my purse was a wrap that had belonged to my mother in anticipation of the air conditioning on the strip. When I arrived at the hotel, my skin was beaded with sweat, but I'd at least remembered sunscreen so I wasn't fried. Red-heads with fair skin and the desert sun are a dangerous combination without some heavy-duty SPF.

Brock had texted me his room number last night so I didn't bother to stop at the desk but rather headed straight for the elevators. Of course, he was near the top so I endured several floors of canned music before the doors dinged and I was able to step out onto his floor.

Julien answered my knock, his easy grin prompting me to give him one in return. I didn't really know much about him other than the gossip at St. George, but he seemed nice enough. I supposed if Brock had to bring anyone with him to Vegas; Julien seemed like a good choice. Then again, I'd thought Reed was a better man than Brock, and I'd been completely wrong about him.

“He's in the shower,” Julien said as I stepped inside a hotel room bigger than my apartment. “He decided to clean out the minibar last night.”

“Enough said.” I rolled my eyes. We sat on the couch, one on either end, half facing each other. “You didn't indulge?”

Julien shook his head. “I'm not much of a drinker. A beer every once in a while, but I'm too much of a control freak to let myself get completely wasted.”

“A control freak?” I arched an eyebrow. “I must admit; that's one adjective I hadn't heard used to describe you.”

His grin widened. “Oh, I'm sure I can imagine what you have heard. Brock told me you went to St. George. Rebecca Stirling's class, right?”

I scowled and he laughed.

“I guess that's my answer.” Julien pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I know how all the snobs at St. George criticized me because I didn't like their pretentious parties or care about whose daddies had the most money or the biggest yacht.”

“That's because your dad always had the biggest yacht.” Brock's voice came from behind us.

Desire flared in my stomach as I turned. He was fresh from the shower, wearing only a towel that barely covered everything. I had the sudden urge to lick the droplets of water from his tanned skin.

“I'll be out in a couple minutes.” Brock winked at me as he turned, and a moment later I knew why. He tossed his towel back into the bathroom, giving me a clear and mouth-watering view of his tight ass as he walked away.

“About yesterday,” Julien said, drawing my reluctant attention back to him. “I didn't know you worked at the club. Brock just said we were going out.”

I waved a hand as I turned back around to face him. “It's a job, not like it was my life's ambition or anything. And at least I'm working.”

He gave me a curious look. “What was your life's ambition then?”

“Dance.” I smoothed down my dress. “Actual dance, not stripping.”

He nodded. “I can see it. You have the body and grace of a dancer.” He flushed. “I mean–”

“It's okay,” I said. “I know what you meant.” It was nice to know that all of Brock's friends didn't automatically assume that because I’m a stripper I was an easy lay.

“All right.” Brock emerged from the bedroom looking as hot as ever. “Who's ready to have some fun?”

When I entered the casino with Brock's arm around my waist and Julien on my other side, I was surprised at how many people stared at us. Then a man in an expensive suit hurried over and I realized that Brock was well-known here.

“Mr. Michaels, a pleasure to see you again.” The man gave a little bow to Brock, then to me and Julien. “Welcome to your friends as well.”

“Anything exciting going on tonight, Johnson?” Brock asked as he looked around the room.

I glanced over at Julien and he seemed almost as unimpressed as I was. Apparently, he hadn't come to Vegas for the gambling. I looked around as Brock led Julien and me after Johnson. It was funny, but even after two years, I'd only stepped into a casino half a dozen times, and only ever to apply for a job. I didn't have a problem with gambling, but it had never really appealed to me. Probably because I'd never had extra money at any point in my life.

“Come be my good luck charm,” Brock said as he sat at one of the tables. He yanked me onto his lap and then pushed out the chair next to him. “There you go, Julien.”

“I'd rather not,” Julien said mildly.

“Don't be a spoilsport, man. I know you got the cash. Get some chips and play.” Brock's voice had taken on an edge that made it hard to tell if he was just messing around or if he was serious.

Julien sighed and sat down. “All right, I'll play. But I'm not drinking.”

Brock rolled his eyes and gestured to a cute blonde who was hovering nearby. “Scotch on the rocks for me and a glass of champagne for my girl.”

“I'm fine, Brock,” I mumbled. My face was heating up as the other men at the table looked at me. I was fine with a little PDA, but sitting on Brock's lap like some sort of trophy was a bit beyond my comfort zone. I just didn't know how to tell Brock without embarrassing him, so I didn't say anything.

I quickly discovered that I was pretty much decoration. Julien occasionally spoke to me as he waited for the others to play their hands, asking about things like how Vegas compared to Philadelphia and what had prompted me to move, but no one else did. Brock talked at me, calling me his good luck charm and saying how he was winning because of me, but he never asked if I was enjoying myself or even if I wanted to play. If it wasn't for the way his thumb was tracing patterns on my stomach, I'd almost have thought he'd be just as content with a blow-up doll on his lap.

He was four drinks in when he started to lose. It was just a little here and there, not even close to cutting in to his winnings, but I could see the annoyance on his face. I wondered if he didn't want to lose in front of me or if it was because Julien was the one who kept beating him. By the sixth drink, he was past angry-drunk and into goofy-drunk, which actually was a mixed blessing. While I preferred funny to mean any day, I didn't like the fact that he was starting to get handsy.

“We should get him back to the room,” Julien finally said after watching me stop Brock from trying to put his hand up my skirt for what seemed the hundredth time.

I nodded, agreeing completely as I pulled Brock’s hand away from my breast. At least, thanks to my job, I knew how to handle drunken advances. “Hey, baby.” I put my mouth against his ear. “Why don't we head back to your room?”

He turned his head and blinked at me, his eyes blood-shot and his gaze unfocused. “My room?”

I kept my voice low. “You're still ahead, so why don't you cash out those chips and we can take the party back to the hotel?”