Chapter Three
Harper
The club was alive tonight.
Hard, violent drum beats punctuated every swing of my hips. Many of the women here called themselves exotic dancers, but I was one of the few that really danced. I could bury my voice, but I could never hide how the music flowed in my blood. I was a slave to the rhythm.
Purple lights glowed along the edge of the stage. There were two other girls up here with me, both of them lazily swinging around the pole. Customers shouted as they threw dollar bills. Strippers who knew how to work the floor scooped the excited men up, pulling them into the booths hidden in the shadows of the club.
Bending backwards, I scanned the men who waited at the tip rail around the stage. They were all ugly grins—animals who saw me as meat. Every one of them was faceless. Forgettable.
Except for him.
Jack was waiting just on the edge of my vision, the purple club lights turning his dark eyes into wild comets. He was dressed just as he’d been last night; a leather jacket, open at the front to show off his tight, moss-green shirt and how it clung to his broad chest.
The sight of him stole my breath. It was a miracle that I didn’t stumble on my heels; his slight grin made me wonder if he could tell he’d thrown me off. He approached the stage, settling into the chair with his legs spread wide. Never breaking eye contact, he slid his elbows forward and onto the tip rail. Large hands fanned out a stack of ten dollar bills in front of him.
His offer was clear… but I think, even if he hadn’t put down any cash, I’d have approached him. I was curious about this guy. He’d rescued me last night, had I made an impression? Enough of one to lure him back here?
Or was he after something else?
Gathering myself, I swayed slowly towards him. There was another pole here, just a few feet in front of Jack. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I curled my fingers around the cool metal and did a meticulous twirl. When I came back around, my ass was facing him.
Men loved that—it drove them crazy.
I wanted Jack to go insane.
Casting a look over my shoulder, I rocked my hips in a lazy circle. He rewarded me by leaning closer, still unblinking, as if he didn’t dare to miss a second of my show. His eyebrows hung low over his eyes—made them fiercer. Jack didn’t hide his simmering hunger.
I bent low; his gaze followed me. Sinking to my knees, I arched my back, turned so he had a view of me from the side. With my chest jutting out, ass on my heels, I was confident I looked good. But if I’d had any sliver of doubt, all it took was one peek at Jack’s hands on the stage.
His knuckles glowed in the black lights; pure white from crushing the tip rail. He was barely holding himself back from pulling me into his lap. That rush of power was intoxicating—it jolted in my veins, it made my blood rush until my lower lips swelled in my thong.
Then he crooked a finger at me and I forgot my routine.
Hesitating, I bit back my instant desire to crawl within reach of him. It’s okay to get close, I told myself, moving on hands and knees across the wooden boards. It’s fine to tease him with some contact… all the other girls do. They did that and much worse, honestly.
Before I knew it, I was crouched in front of him. The tip rail—a foot high expanse of flat metal to rest drinks and cash—was all that was between us. The stage was raised, and still, Jack was eye-level sitting down as he was.
He raked his gaze from my face, to my chest, then back again. His smile was subtle; it stole the strength from my legs.
The club music rolled in my ears. I blanked out—I was fixated on his fucking mouth, his thick hair, how the lights bounced off his exposed collar bone. “Hi,” I blurted.
Jack grinned slyly. “Hi? Shouldn’t it be ‘Hey, Sexy?’ or something similar?”
Breathing in, I gave a quick, relieved laugh. It was so good to have him ease the tension. “That’s bold.”
“I don’t know,” he said, crossing his arms. “With the way you were looking at me, I think it’s spot on.”
Heat swam in my skull. I was too warm, too full of mixed emotions. I didn’t know the last time I’d bantered with anyone, never mind a painfully hot man like Jack.
A waitress jumped between us, interrupting our moment and giving me a second to gather myself. “Want a drink, handsome?” she asked.
Slipping a few bills off his stack on the rail, he handed them over. “Gin and tonic, then whatever she likes.”
The waitress gave me a look; she knew I was one of the dancers who didn’t drink on the job. Alcohol made it too easy to make dumb mistakes… or to let men get away with more than they should. “Tequila sunrise,” I said, hoping she’d get the hint and bring me a virgin drink.
It only took a few seconds for her to get our order, hand it over, and then Jack and I were back to our little corner of the stage—alone as you could be in a busy club.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass on mine. I took a small sip; definitely alcohol. “So, what were we talking about?” he asked playfully.
I set the tequila sunrise on the stage, then I rose up, perching next to him so that my chest was inches from his face. “I think we were discussing how you should talk less during my stage set.”
His lips pulled to the side. With patience, he took a slow sip from the glass, then put it out of reach. “Fine. I’ll sit here all pretty and let you do your thing. I was enjoying it, anyway.”
The music went all bass, the rich, textured rhythm mirroring my heartbeat. Jack was disarmingly charismatic. That definitely explained a lot of my drive to get closer to him. Of course… as I brushed my fingers over his jacket, pulling it open further, I got a good look at some parts of him that certainly didn’t hurt his likability.
Jack’s shoulders were like multiple lush valleys; lines of muscle covered in black and green tattoos. Before I could shut myself down, I traced my finger-pads over his skin. It was warm, mostly smooth with the occasional interesting ridge of a scar here or there.
My hair hung around us, creating a shield from the world. It did nothing to muffle his sharp intake of air, then the following low, hot groan. I locked up; he looked up at me and whispered, “Oh no, baby girl, don’t stop there. I’ve wanted to feel your hands on me for longer than I’ve had any right to.”
The DJ’s voice boomed overhead. “Thank you, gentlemen! Get ready for the next round of beautiful ladies… Frangelico, Lulu, and Sensual!”
“My set is finished,” I said, breathing heavily.
“I’m not.” He sat up, looking around the room. His attention narrowed in on the far staircase. “Let’s go have a private dance.”
It was good that he pulled me off the stage; I wasn’t confident I could follow him without losing my balance. Were we really going to do this? Could I be alone with him and behave myself?
Did I want to?
As we climbed the steps, we rose high enough that the second floor balcony came into view. Across the way, I caught someone watching us. Callum was smoking, the thick curls half covering his face like some shifting mask.
Making me work here was his way of controlling me, but deep down, he clearly hated seeing me with other men. I didn’t do many private dances; was he wondering how rich Jack had to be to lure me away?
One final push of smoke through his thick lips… and my boss strolled away from the edge.
Jack had stopped yanking me up the stairs. He was staring in the same direction I had been.
Is he wondering who Mister Big is?
Quick as a whip he glanced down at me, frowned, and then we were off again.
Reaching the top floor, Jack thumbed a stack of cash over to the man standing by the private booths. The rooms were curtained off, allowing for the people who used them to get up to all sorts of trouble. Jack had paid enough that the guard purposefully walked away.
No one was going to bother us.
“In,” he said, the word more of a guttural sound than any sort of English language. I did as he asked. The heavy curtain fell around us, the black light on the wall above the single, over-stuffed chair making our eyes and teeth blue.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he dropped into the seat. His knees spread wide, hands resting on the arms like a king on a throne. His demeanor demanded I come forward—come to him—without having to say it out loud.
Just do your job. Clinging to that, I reached behind me as I sought out the soft beat of the music. It was quieter in here, but it still existed. I rode on the waves as I danced in place. Jack watched me like he had at the stage.
Like he had last night.
I had the oddest feeling he’d always been watching me.
My top fell from my grip, the gold glitter sparkling where it landed on the floor. Stepping over it, I kept my palms over my breasts. Jack hadn’t seen me naked yet. The private dances lasted fifteen minutes, I could do what I always did; strip tease until the very end. The customers hated that—they expected physical contact for their hundred dollars—but I’d never cared.
But now… the idea of not filling the empty air with Jack’s body was depressing. I wanted to touch him, to be touched, so why was I hesitating?
He shifted on the chair. “Fuck, you’re turning me on like mad. Come here.”
I peered at him through my lowered eyelashes. “Ask me nicely.”
“You want me to beg?” he chuckled. Then he spread his legs further, showing off his massive erection. Palming it, Jack hissed through his teeth. “Look at this. Isn’t it obvious I’m dying without you? I won’t bite, not much.”
My tongue ran over my bottom lip. “And if I ask you to bite?”
His eyes locked on me, his jaw falling open. Then he smirked so sharply I felt it cut through the last of my resistance. “You’re something else. Something special, for sure. Get over here.”
It took so few steps on my too-tall shoes to reach him. I swung a leg over, straddling his thighs. Between us, his cock was hard as stone. I gasped; he moaned, eyes rolling back at the gentle pressure of my weight on him.
One of his arms moved behind me, stroking along my naked back. On impulse I bent forward, thrusting my breasts into his face. He grabbed my hair, holding me there, looking from my cleavage to my eyes. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to lick these perfect nipples.”
My tongue was stuck to my teeth; I made it work. “You can’t.”
“No?” he asked softly. His other hand slid onto my hip, guiding me over his hard-on as he rolled his pelvis. I whimpered at the sensation of his firm cock bumping my pussy over and over. I didn’t give lap dances like this—not to anyone.
Jack squeezed my ass, forcing me to rock faster along his erection. The thin strip of cotton over my pussy might as well have been a figment of my imagination. It did nothing to protect me from the pressure of his denim on my swelling clit. Had I ever been so turned on?
“I don’t have sex with customers,” I said quickly, like I was trying to talk myself out of a bad decision.
His smile was thin. “I’m not a customer.”
“Coming here to buy lap dances makes you a customer.”
“That’s not why I came here.”
Intrigued, I tried to focus on his words instead of how soft his lips looked. “Then what are you doing at the Golden Goose?”
Sweeping his fingers up my throat, he made my hairs stand on end. The tightness on my skin swirled down to my belly, then right between my thighs when he curled his grip in my scalp. It was a firm hold that caused no pain but trapped me against him.
In my ear, he whispered, “I came here for revenge.”
“What?” I breathed out the question; his lips scooped it up, kissing me so suddenly that I forgot what gravity was. I was falling and floating and everything in between. His tongue slid over my bottom lip, tasting the deep indent—the marker that cruder men used to comment on how good I must be at sucking dick.
Jack made no such observations. He kissed me like he needed me to live.
And I forgot that we were two people completing a transaction.
Money didn’t matter.
Rules didn’t matter.
All I wanted was relief from the knots in my lower belly. I hadn’t had sex in forever, it wasn’t something I sought out. But now… now, it was all I could think about.
One of his hands abandoned me, reaching between us to unclip his belt. Panting, I hurried to help him slide his jeans down his thighs. Jack pressed me down; I was grinding on his cock where it strained in his boxers. The cotton material was damp, his pre-come saturating the inside.
Knowing I’d turned him on this much was making me dizzy. It couldn’t be the alcohol—I’d had one sip, or was it two? No, this was pure arousal in my blood and pretending otherwise was foolish.
I stroked my hand down his chest, across his firm abdominals. When I reached the elastic band of his boxers he grabbed my wrist. “You sure?” he asked, his mouth in a pained grimace. “You grab my cock, baby doll, and I’m not leaving here without fucking you. I don’t want you to get in any trouble with this place.”
“It’s fine.” Looking down at his cock, I saw it flex in the cloth. The cotton couldn’t hide the fat ridge of his head. “My boss won’t fire me.”
“No? You get special treatment around here?”
My laugh was as dry as an overcooked chicken bone. “I could probably set this place on fire and he’d keep me around.”
Jack tensed up—so suddenly that I focused back on his face. He didn’t give me a chance to read his expression, he kissed me again, his hand no longer holding mine back. He forced my palm onto his erection, the two of us groaning around the swirling tongues that teased in our mouths.
Gripping his warm shaft, I pumped him experimentally. Each movement had him panting on my skin. He nipped my bottom lip, then my earlobe, then he laughed. “That’s incredible. I want to feel that sweet pussy, though. You’re dripping on my lap. I’m going to slide into you so easily, no matter how fat my cock is.” His filthy mouth made my clit twitch. “Grab the condom in my back pocket.”
I scooted down his legs enough to bend back and dig into his jeans where they’d pooled at his ankles. The foil square was easy to find.
Peeling it open, I stared through the latex like it was a monocle; the room went all funky yellow. It was an unappetizing color, so how did Jack still look so damn delicious? In one smooth motion I sheathed his cock in the condom.
“Jesus,” he growled. Clamping his palms around my waist he lifted me easily into the air.
“Wait, my bikini bottoms!” Was he going to shred the material?
Without straining, like I weighed nothing, Jack hooked his left thumb into the crotch of my glittery outfit. He didn’t snap anything, he simply slid it out of the way, exposing my very wet pussy to the air.
Flaring his nostrils, he spread my lower lips, pushing the tip of his thick shaft against me. “Fuck,” I gasped. Inch by inch he spread me open, no longer holding me up; he let my own weight help sink me down onto his cock. I was being speared like an animal he’d hunted down. The deeper he went, the more my vision blurred.
Then he thrust once; hard, quick, and I threw my head back with a desperate shout that had been growing in my belly. “Holy hell, holy fuck, Jack—Jack!”
“I love your voice,” he growled. “Louder. Scream louder for me.”
“Please, I’m not sure—”
“You can handle it.” Gritting his teeth, he curled me against him. His shirt was warm with his sweat, my own running down my back. I was being wrung out like a damp towel. My insides shrank and expanded, heat blossoming as pleasure overtook any memory of pain. “You’ve got it, baby doll. That’s it, rock your hips.”
His fingertips came between us, circling over my swollen clit with clear intention. He knew how to touch me—I was relieved, I didn’t think I could speak well enough to instruct him. Round and round he teased me until I was fucking him without any care for how loud I was getting.
I burned with an insane need to have him deeper. His hands played with my hair, lips brushing my temple as he whispered to me. “Feel me stretching you out?” he asked, filling me to the brim. “You’re milking the hell out of me, Harper. Your pussy is fucking astounding.”
And there it was; he’d gone so deep he was having sex with my brain.
Closing my eyes, I moaned as a hot spike of tension rocked down and made me squeeze his cock harder. I was right there, on the edge as my body vibrated between his seeking fingers and thrusting shaft.
His breathing went raspy. “Your moans are almost as good as your singing.”
My singing? How could he… Blanking out as I came, I saw purple and glitter and the whole damn milky way. “I’m coming,” I sobbed. “Fuck, I’m…”
“Me too,” he hissed, embracing me as if I could escape him during my convulsions. Through the condom he twitched, expanding bigger; his orgasm was a second behind mine.
This stranger cradled me against him as we languished in a pleasure that I knew, for me, had been absent for years. But what about him? Did he go to clubs and screw strippers often? The idea was enough to cool me; I found my eyesight, my clarity beneath my bitter suspicion.
Carefully I pulled my body off of his. He chuckled, the noise rich and satisfying. “That was amazing.”
My lips pressed up into an uncontrollable smile. “I’m glad.” I wanted to say That was beyond stellar! Best of the year, of the decade! But I said no such things and instead straightened out my bikini bottoms.
Jack eyeballed me, not moving from his seat. Then he peeled the condom off, knotting the top. “We should hide this.”
“It’s fine, there’s a garbage can behind the chair. Toss it there.”
His eyebrows furrowed drastically. “Guess your boss really doesn’t care what you girls do.”
I stood up taller, trying to gauge his new tone. “If he gets his cut, he’s happy.”
Violently, he threw the condom into the can and turned to face me. His eyes reminded me of the center of a volcano. I waited for him to burn me into ash. “How could you work for a man like him?”
“Maybe I like working for him,” I said quickly, not wanting to go down this road.
“Please. You’re better than this.”
I was wrong; he wasn’t a strip club regular, he was a wannabe white knight. That was almost worse. “How would you even know that?”
He didn’t flinch as he said, “Because I’ve heard your beautiful voice.” If there was any hesitation in his eyes, it vanished as he looked me over with renewed determination. “I’ve heard you sing before.”
“When?” Feeling exposed, I circled my arms over my chest. “The last time I sang was over seven years ago.”
He stood up from the chair, his jeans still undone—why had I gone so far? “It was long ago, yes, but I’ll never forget that night. You’ve got music in your veins, Harper. You could shake the world, bring it to its knees.” His warm hands clasped my shoulders, then cupped my jaw like we were old friends—older lovers. “A voice like yours belongs on a stage.”
“I’ve got a stage,” I whispered. Shrugging him off of me, I backed up until the curtains hiding us from the rest of the club tickled my spine. “I belong up there on the pole with the other forgotten girls.” I don’t want to sing. Never again.
Jack stayed where he was. He was vibrating with a barely controlled energy; a single drop of sweat, a reminder of our bodies’ heat, rolled down his chest. He breathed in thickly; I had to resist reaching out to touch his massive muscles. “I can tell when someone is hiding. I’m familiar with that world.”
“Fine,” I said, scooping my top up, rushing to tie it on. “Use your familiarity to recognize it’s not your business if I’m hiding or not. Stay out of my life. You don’t know me, Jack. And you shouldn’t want to.”
His voice was somber. “It’s not the knowing that’s the problem. It’s the forgetting.”
We faced off, both hiding secrets and, perhaps, wondering if revealing them would make the static energy in the air worse. A knock came on the wood outside the booth. “Harper?” a girl asked sweetly. “It’s Sensual, you almost done in there? Maurice said you only had fifteen minutes and it’s been twenty, so…”
Jack moved around me. He didn’t look back, not once, as he opened the curtain. He stared straight ahead as he handed me a stack of money from his wallet. “We’re done in here,” he said to Sensual and the man beside her. “All yours.”
The other customer peered at me, probably smelling the tang of sweat in the booth. I felt bad that I’d set Sensual up for trouble; this guy definitely assumed he was about to get some stripper-vag action.
The dancer was squinting at me with a half-smile. “Girl,” she whispered, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, all good.” Running my hands through my hair, I stared around the club. Jack was gone, lost in the crowd, maybe even out the front door by now. All I had was the stack of bills he’d given me for the dance.
It was the first time I wished I hadn’t been paid.
The stairs rocked under me—I could have been on a ship at sea. Jack knew me when I used to sing. He remembered me. That part of my past was a wound so raw and open, any mention of it was pure salt and vinegar in my cells. Jack had taken me high only to drop me so hard I was shattered through my middle.
In my hand, the money was heavy.
Forget him. Who cares if he knew you. He’s just a guy who got a dance… way more than a dance. If he wants to storm off, acting like a child, fine. Everything was fine.
It had to be.
“Harper?”
Mister Big was standing along the edge of the hallway, blocking me from the stairwell that led to the girls’ dressing room. He looked at me closely. When he focused on the cash in my hand, I slid my arm behind my back on reflex. His smile was sickening. “Nice haul, all that for one dance?”
I was confused until I lifted the money back into view. Jack was supposed to pay me a hundred bucks, but this was more; way more. Five hundred damn dollars? Blinking, I offered my boss a quick shrug. “He… really liked me.”
“Well,” Callum chuckled, leaning in close. We weren’t alone, but I felt like I might as well have been. No one would interrupt this man… no one was that stupid. “You’re a beautiful girl. Any man would fall for you, if you gave them a chance. Your mother had that same natural gift.” He stroked my cheek; I pulled away, not hiding the disgust on my face.
This was why I avoided him. I couldn’t fake niceness when he pressed me.
The next time he spoke, he was seething. “Hate me all you like, but I should remind you that the only reason you and your sister are together is because of me.”
I didn’t need him to remind me of anything. “Did you want something, or can I go?”
He adjusted his black jacket, looking over my head, then back to me. “Give me my cut of your dance money, then you can go back to work.”
Not arguing, I peeled off his share of the cost; twenty bucks.
His fingers curled in his open palm. “No, dear. Twenty percent would be one hundred dollars.”
I recoiled, gripping the cash tight. “But I did one private dance!”
“And you were paid five hundred for that. I still get twenty percent, Harper. Understand?”
Furious at his attempt to bully me, I debated my options. It was a waste of time; as long as I insisted on staying in Cena’s life, I had to obey Callum’s rules. Curling my lips over my teeth, I slapped the money into his hand. “Fine. Here, now can I go?”
Shoving the bills into his jacket’s inner pocket, he nodded. “Yes. Get back out there,” he mumbled, strolling around me. “And don’t do anything stupid.”
He didn’t know it was too late.
I mean, I’d already screwed Jack.
How much stupider could I get?