“Where are we going?” Layla asks as my limo makes its way down the busy streets of Manhattan.

“Dinner and dancing,” I say with a laugh.

She narrows her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t taking me ballroom dancing?”

“Would you want to go ballroom dancing?”

“Um. No.”

I wink at her. “That’s what I thought.” The limo pulls up in front of an upscale burlesque dinner club. “Here we are.”

Layla lifts her eyebrows, but I can tell she’s intrigued. “I’ve heard of this place but I’ve never been.”

Perfect. Just the thing to take her mind off all the shit she had to deal with today. I climb from the limo and hold my hand out to her, and then we walk into the club hand-in-hand.

We’re immediately taken upstairs when I give my name to the host.

“Where are they taking us?” Layla whispers.

“I reserved a private VIP room.”

The way she smiles, like she can’t wait to see just what goes on in a VIP room has my cock ready for action. That’s my girl. Up for anything and everything. I fucking love that about her. I don’t know that I’ve ever been with someone so open and confident in their sexuality, and it’s such a fucking turn on that I’m almost surprised my cock hasn’t gone into overload and just torn right through my pants to get at her.

We’re left alone in the room, and I pour two glasses of champagne and sit next to Layla on the sleek suede sofa that faces a giant wall of glass. Layla takes it all in, her eyes wide with excitement as she looks at the display below. Dark gray and black furniture and walls contrast with the neon pinks, purples, and blues of the lights in the club, giving the entire place a vibe of both elegance and pure sex.

We have a perfect view of the center of the room where there are stages with poles, all glowing and pulsing in time to the music. Girls in various states of nudity are wrapped around the poles for our viewing pleasure.

“What do you think?” I ask, sipping the champagne after I clink my glass to hers.

“This is amazing. I’ve always wanted to come here.”

I smile. Just like I thought.

We order some food and drink our champagne, and I watch as Layla totally relaxes, all hints of the stress of the day gone.

“I knew you’d like it,” I say as I refill her empty glass.

“Sounds like you’re a regular here, Mr. Kent,” she teases. “Who’s your favorite dancer?”

I feign surprise. “Oh, do you dance? Please, don’t let me stop you if you’d like to give me a show right now.”

“Only if you’re a good boy and behave yourself.” She watches me over the rim of her glass as she sips her champagne, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Now where’s the fun in that? Don’t you know by now that I never behave myself?”

“Ah, that’s right. Always the bad boy.”

The way she looks at me for a second makes me wonder what’s going through her head, but the next thing I know, she’s looking down at my cock, which hasn’t given the slightest hint of giving up it’s quest to break free.

“So if I were to dance, wouldn’t I need a pole?”

A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. “You know, you’re right. I think that just might be a requirement.” I lean back against the sofa and clasp my hands behind my head. “But you’re in luck. I know just the thing.”

Layla sets her glass down and slides closer to me, her hand hovering over my cock, taunting me with the promise of her touch. And when she leans into my ear and bites gently, the tickling tease of her breath sends what blood I have remaining straight down to my cock. All I can think about now is Layla and what a fucking awesome night this is going to be.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, dragging her lips across my jaw and down my neck. “I think you might be right.”

I’m faintly aware of someone coming in and placing the food we ordered on the table, but I don’t bother paying them any attention. Neither does Layla, which makes me grin because I knew she had a thing for exhibitionism.

She stands up and walks toward the glass, leaving me aching for her to get back over here where she belongs—on my cock.

“Can people see us in here? Through this glass?”

I watch her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Every square inch of this room is on full display.”

Then she seals the deal—she’s my fucking wet dream come true. “Then I think we should give the people a show.”