“Stop throwing money on the stage,” I say, shaking my head. “She’s not even paying attention.”

“I’m paying attention,” my buddy from work Mike says before throwing another five-dollar bill on the stage.

The stripper lazily shakes her ass as she leans on the pole, her eyes on the hockey game playing on the TV behind the bar.

She’s got great tits but she doesn’t give a shit that there’s a room full of men watching her. She’s too focused on the third period to notice.

I chuckle when I realize the whole watching hockey thing may be part of the fantasy. Because if most guys are being honest with themselves, they would prefer to have a girl who loves to watch sports over a girl who loves to fuck.

When the game cuts to a commercial she glances down at the stage, shakes her tits one more time, and then scoops up the loose dollar bills, clutching them to her naked chest as she hurries off the stage.

“She didn’t even take off her thong,” Mike complains, staring at her in shock as she rushes into the back. “I gave her twelve bucks and I didn’t even see her pussy.”

I roll my eyes as I take a sip of beer. I hate strip clubs. If I want to get laid, I’ll go to a real bar, not a fantasy land where the only action I’ll get is on my credit card.

But I’m here for Mike. His girlfriend of two years just gave him the old heave-ho, and he’s trying to get over it in the only way that men with broken hearts can: by looking at big, juicy, bouncing tits.

“When was the last time you were in a strip club?” I ask him.

“Since before I started dating Samantha,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I never felt the need to go when I had her.” His whole body looks numb as he stares down at the table with sad eyes.

I’ve never been good with feelings, but I feel bad for the guy. He was really in love with her. He still is.

“Let’s get you another girl,” I say, looking around. “One who will show you her pussy.”

His back straightens as his mouth breaks out into a smile.

I meet the manager’s eye and he walks over. He’s skinny and looks all coked out with deep bags under his wild eyes. He’s constantly making quick twitchy movements and wiping his nose every few seconds. I’ve heard this bar is owned by the Hammersmith Biker Club, but I don’t know for sure. This is not my scene.

I own an engineering firm and am as close to a family man as you can get for a guy who doesn’t have a family.

My best friend Tommy has adopted me into his family. I spend every Sunday night with Tommy, his wife, and his two kids. It’s the highlight of my week, and I’m always looking forward to it. But it’s not for Tommy’s wife’s burnt meatloaf, it’s for his burning hot daughter.

Just thinking about Zoe is making me hard. I’ve seen over a dozen naked women tonight, and it’s done nothing for me, but just one thought of the sweet, innocent Zoe, and my dick is raging.

She always does that to me. Ever since I met Tommy two years ago, and I was introduced to the light of my life. I’ve been thinking of her constantly. I haven’t been with anyone since I saw her. I haven’t even thought about it.

And now that she turned eighteen only a few weeks ago, my little fantasy is starting to become an obsession.

“How’s everything going over here, gentleman?” the manager asks when he arrives at our table.

“Beautiful women you have in this place,” I say, looking up at him. “But my friend here has a broken heart that needs fixing. Do you have a pretty girl who can make him forget all about his ex? Someone who can show him a good time in the back room?”

The slimy manager gives me a creepy smile. Ugh. I hate strip clubs.

“I have just the girl.” He raises his hand and snaps his fingers at a cute little blonde in a nurse’s uniform.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” I mutter as she struts over. She’s curvy with big tits and nice full lips. Exactly what Mike needs.

I grab two hundred bucks from my pocket and stuff it into her hand. “Don’t let him up for air until he can’t remember who Samantha is.”

“You got it,” she says, smiling at me before turning to Mike.

His cheeks are turning red as she grabs his hand and pulls him up. “Thanks, Jack,” he says, shooting me a quick glance before leaving with her.

“Any girl for you?” the manager asks when the new couple vanishes into a back room.

“No,” I say, shaking my head as I down the rest of my beer. There’s only one girl for me and she wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.

A strong urge to pull out my phone and scroll through Zoe’s Facebook photos starts to overtake me. I take a deep breath and fold my hands on the top of the table, leaving my phone burning against my leg.

“But I will take another beer,” I say, turning back to the empty stage.

The manager tells one of the waitresses as he returns to his spot against the wall.

“And now,” the announcer says over the speakers as the waitress hands me a beer, “please welcome the newest dancer to the Titty Committee. She just turned eighteen two weeks ago. Give it up for the young and barely legal, Zoe!”

My eyes dart up to the door that leads to the girls’ dressing rooms as my chest tightens like it’s stuck in a vise. I know that it can’t possibly be her, but I still look up in a panic.

The door swings open and I nearly have a heart attack when I see her strut out.

My Zoe.

Her eyes are wide and panicked as she wobbles out on ridiculously high heels, looking like a child in this grown-up place. My hands are shaking as I stare at her in shock.

She looks stunning in her schoolgirl outfit with the short skirt, low cut top, and socks that ride up her young slender legs. But I can’t focus on any of that.

Her presence here has hit me like a baseball bat to the temple. The sweet girl that I’ve spent years lusting for has a room full of guys lusting over her at this very moment.

A fierce rage rips through me as I look around and see them watching her with wide excited eyes. I squeeze the beer bottle in my hand, wanting to smash it on the table and blind each and every one of them.

They shouldn’t be looking at her. She’s mine alone to look at.

I explode out of my seat, staring at her as a fire hose of adrenaline surges through my veins. There’s a vicious pounding in my ears, drowning out the shitty Van Halen song playing as my whole body tightens.

She shuffles to the stage with her silky brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. Hair that I’ve dreamed about sinking my nose into as I slide inside of her, taking her sweet cherry. She bites her bottom lip as she walks up the steps. Those sweet luscious lips. How many times have I imagined them wrapped around my cock?

The perverted fucks around me erupt into cheers as she steps onto the stage.

What the fuck is happening?

That is my Zoe up there.

The same Zoe who cried in my arms when she got a dent in her father’s car. I took the blame for that one.

The same Zoe who bought me a pocket knife for my birthday. I still carry it everywhere I go.

And the same Zoe who still has her virginity. I stole her diary and read it. I couldn’t tell you how relieved I was when I found out that my sweet Zoe hadn’t been touched by a man yet.

That’s why this is all such a shock.

She struts onto the stage, looking younger than ever as the song picks up. She looks nervous and awkward as she walks to the pole, keeping her eyes on the stage, on the ceiling, on her feet, anywhere but on the excited men who are all staring at her like a pride of hungry lions.

With my heart racing, I rush through the crowd and leap onto the stage.

Zoe gasps and jerks her head back in shock as she sees me coming at her like the world is on fire. These men are looking at what’s mine, which means my world is definitely on fire.

“Jack,” she gasps as I yank off my shirt and wrap it around her exposed body. I don’t care what she wants to do, I don’t care who owns this place, I don’t care if I have to fight every bouncer, biker, bartender, and drunk fuck in here, but no one is laying their eyes on my girl’s body. Not while I’m alive.

The possessive feelings I already had for her are now surging out of control as I wrap my flexed arms around her, spoiling the view for everybody in here.

“Hey!” the huge bouncer yells as he rushes over. I pull Zoe behind me as he runs up the stairs, charging forward.

The intense look I give him makes him skid to a stop. “Are you her father or something?” he asks, looking me up and down.

He’s built like an NFL linebacker with over a hundred pounds on me, but he’s smart to stand back with the way I’m feeling right now.

I would take on the whole Dallas Cowboys to protect my girl.

The scrawny manager races up next and gets in my face. I’m about to knock him out, but Zoe places her delicate hand on my forearm, keeping me in check.

“You want to touch the girls?” he says, wiping his nose. “You pay for it.”

I step forward but Zoe squeezes her fingers around my arm. I take a deep breath as I try to hold myself together.

I have to remember that she’s up here with me and if things go down, she can get hurt. Her safety is my main concern, over everything else.

“Fine,” I grunt, reaching into my pocket. I pull out my wallet and stuff a wad of cash into the manager’s greasy hand. “She’s mine for the night. The entire night.”

His eyebrows raise as he flips through the money, nodding as a smile breaks out across his lips. “She’s all yours.” He turns to the huge bouncer who’s still staring at me with clenched fists and flared nostrils. “Cupcake, give them a VIP room.”

Cupcake sighs, then turns around with slumped shoulders, looking disappointed that he didn’t get to crack any skulls. He’s luckier than he thinks. His skull would have been the one that got cracked.

“Jack,” Zoe whispers beside me.

I shoot her a warning look that makes her shut those sweet luscious lips up real fast.

The men in the club all boo as I keep my shirt wrapped possessively around her body, and follow the bouncer off the stage, taking the sweet little girl with me.

The bouncer shows us to a private VIP room in the back and glares at me as I pull Zoe in and then close the door in his face.

There’s a leather couch along the wall with a stripper pole in the middle of the room. A champagne bottle is sitting in a bucket of ice next to two glasses on the glass coffee table.

Zoe looks up at me with soft red cheeks as I yank my shirt back on and roll up my sleeves. I’m staring down at her with my heart pounding.

There’s only one word that comes to mind:

“Explain.”