I’m not sure why, but I feel like I want to torment him. “That would be none of your business,” I reply. This time when he looks me over I feel it even more. I’m still unsure what his game is, but whatever the hell it is, he’s awfully good at it.
His thick finger lifts my chin before he locks those killer eyes on mine. “I’d say it is my business when I plan on taking you out.” A slow grin appears on his face, and I see how good-looking he really is. “As pretty as you are, I don’t think it’ll do either of us any good if you play for the other team.”
The man is incorrigible, yet very charming. Charming? Since when do I use words like that? Then, it hits me…fucking Disney strikes again. I’m well aware that there is no Prince Charming and don’t let myself be swept away by this good-looking stranger. No matter how much I’d love to be swept away. God, I’d really loved to be swept away.
“I need to get back to work.” Standing, I push my chair in, grab my tray, and without so much as a second glance, walk away.
Throughout the night, I kept Rhett’s seven-sevens coming until he waved me off when I asked him if he’d like another. Finally, I was into my third hour of my double shift. Why did I agree to this? Even I know I’ll do it again because well, it’s what I do, but dammit I’m allowed to complain about it.
Just when I think I’m in hell? I see Candy—yeah, she goes by Candy. How original for a stripper, huh? Anyway, talk about raving bitch. That is one woman I’d like to see fall off the pole while hanging upside down. She really thinks she shits roses and kittens. What? It’s true. Posies and puppies, better?
For the first time all night, I was thankful I’d picked up Kennedy’s shift because if I hadn’t, I’d have missed the heel of Candy’s ridiculously tall six-inch heel snapping completely off. The best part? Well, that’d have to be the part where she reached for the brass pole to save herself from falling but tragically missed by at least a foot and face planted on the stage. I’m not saying I laughed until I cried, but I am on my third tissue and my eyes are burning from my mascara.
“You are not as sweet as you look are you?” I hear over my shoulder; I already have that voice memorized…Rhett.
I turn toward him and answer the only way I can think of. “I never claimed to be sweet.” Disguising his laugh, he rubs his jaw and stares at my feet—yes, my feet. “You like my shoes or something?” I turn my toes one way then the other.
This time there was no concealing his laughter. “Yeah, maybe I do, and by the way, only sweet girls wear sneakers like those, beautiful.”
“Oh really? What am I supposed to be wearing?” I know I’m just egging him on, but for some reason, I want to. Rhett’s playful, and I like that in a man.
I watch him as he looks around the room. Searching every female in the room and examining her footwear. “Every other woman here is wearing extremely sexy high heels.”
“So they are, but have they worked over fifty-seven hours this week while wearing those sexy heels?”
I watch as what I said sinks in, and I see approval looking back at me. Not sure why I like seeing approval in Rhett’s gaze, but I do. Even though he doesn’t reply, I can’t help but continue. “I have sexy heels myself, but I only wear them when the occasion calls for them.”
Raising one dark eyebrow, he questions me. “What kinda occasion would that be, beautiful?”
I try not to let my insides quiver every time he calls me beautiful, but fuck if that’s not one of the most powerful words known to man or beast.
When I stop staring at his lips like I’m internally begging him to say that magical word again, I realize he’s staring at me. Oh crap! He’s waiting for an answer; that’s right. “Occasion to wear heels?” I ask like a complete dipshit. He nods, but I can tell by his face that he’s enjoying my discomfort all too much. I do believe it’s time to burst that bubble. “Why, sex of course. What else—“ Leaning in, I brush a fake piece of lint from his shoulder and whisper, “Rhett,” near his ear.
Did he just growl? I thought I heard a growl. I’m pretty sure he growled. Do it again.
**Rhett**
Never have I enjoyed banter like this before. At first, I thought she was just another one of those women, the kind that play games with a man, then leave him when they can no longer keep up with the trivial pursuit they started in the first place. But this? This is some of the hottest foreplay I’d ever taken part in. She knows what she’s doing, but it’s not practiced like most women using their feminine wiles to get what they want.
No, she was sincere—I’d swear by it. I heard her breath catch when I leaned in close. I can read her signs like they’re in neon lights. Quick breathing, parted lips, a fidget in her right leg that has yet to stop, white knuckles where she clenched her tray.
I don’t want to scare her off, but I don’t want to waste my opportunity with her either. I want her like I’ve never wanted a woman before. The intensity kind of scares me; I’m not going to lie. I’m sure if I told her what I wanted from her, she’d hightail it on out of there in record time. Jesus, she won’t even tell me her name. I’ve never fucked a woman whose name I didn’t know. Probably shouldn’t start the conversation with telling her I need to know her name so I know what name to call out when I come, huh? I tell you, it’s that intense.
When I first arrived at Pinkies, I sat and waited to see Cal. I worked here long enough that I knew he’d be making the rounds soon. He’s always been a sociable guy and one helluva businessman. Understanding the importance of mingling with the customers. Then, I see her. Sunshine? No, no, Sunny she calls herself. From my days behind the bar, I know that Cal tells all the girls to use a fake name, and I have no indication that she’d be any different. He’s right; the girls should use every bit of self-preservation that they can. Now, all I can think of is the two of us together. She’s played with me since she dropped off my first drink. The game is about over, and I’m not done with my new-found playmate.
She’s my type all around. Thick thighs encased in snug denim had my mind thinking just how silky soft it’d be wedged right between them. An ass that doesn’t stop, that brought my fantasy from between to behind. Those kind of hips were meant to be gripped and by big hands. I happen to have big hands. Her waist tapers in, and all I see is woman, pure and simple, woman.
I’m sure she’s used to men staring at her tits, but how could they not? Then, there are those lips. They make me lick my own just thinking of tasting them. Damn, those babies are porn star worthy. But, the one thing that almost knocked me on my ass? Her eyes. It’s as if she knows a secret that just maybe she’ll share with me, but only me. Does that make sense? I want to know her secret. I want to hear it, see it, hell I want to feel it.
Personality? That she has for days. If she’d had never given me shit, I’d enjoy the view, but I wouldn’t need her like I do right now. Sarcasm and enough sass for a lifetime of entertainment. She’s feisty, and goddamn, I love me some feisty. Feisty makes one helluva hellcat between the sheets. It’s more than that though.
I have no doubt that we would set the sheets on fire, but I see more and I want to see even more. A woman who catches my interest and holds it is a rarity. Casual sex could make it or break it. My cock may be seeking her out like a heat seeking missile, but my cock doesn’t control the launch only the hit. In other words? I need her name, her number, and a date that I can take her out on.
There’s more to her, and I’m dying to know it all. When she whispers my name in my ear, I practically blow my load. I can’t come from my own name like some kinda sicko. My imagination now has her in a pair of fuck me pumps bent over my couch.