“Well, good afternoon to you too,” Betty, the owner, greeted me in her usual squaking voice as I stalked into the club the following weekend.

Freezing in my tracks, I turned my head toward her, an irate expression marring my features as it had been throughout the course of the entire week. It wasn’t directed at her and clearly she knew that, but nonetheless, her brow furrowed curiously as she leaned onto the bar, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“What the hell crawled up your ass?”

“Nothing,” I said, raking a hand through my hair. “It’s just Calla and her usual bullshit.”

“So, if it’s usual, then why the shitty demeanor?”

“Because she has the ability to get under my skin like no one else.”

“Because you give her the power,” she added, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“The fuck? No, I don’t,” I retorted indignantly.

“Yes, you do. You already know she’s vindictive. And she is so because, regardless of what she says, she wants your attention.”

“So because she wants my attention that means she can just keep Mila from me?”

“No,” Betty shook her head, “that’s just a bitch move, but she’ll take attention any way she can get it. Even if it’s negative.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I wish I was.”

“What am I supposed to do? Ignore her and just let her bark at me?

“Yep. Interact with her only where Mila is concerned.” She said it with finality, like it was so easy.

But Calla didn’t make anything easy. She never would. The person she’d become didn’t allow that. I could honestly say I regretted every minute I spent with her, even the ones that, at one point in time, were good. The only thing—the only truly good thing—I ever got out of being with Calla, was our daughter.

Just live your life, Jagger,” Betty continued when I didn’t answer. “I know there’s a kid involved, but don’t let her do this to you.”

I stood there, unmoving. Wordless. Was Betty right? Could this constant back and forth with Calla possibly disappear if I just paid her no mind? Would that provoke her to keep Mila from me all the more or would the lack of arguments and confrontation make her easier to deal with? I guess the real question was, could I really do it?

“Jag, Betty.” Sinclair’s voice boomed suddenly as he strolled in through the front doors.

I tipped my chin at his greeting and turned back to Betty who was now pulling a bottle of Jack from one of the shelves behind the bar. Then she grabbed three shot glasses, filled them to the brim, and pushed two our way with a smirk on her lips. Sin and I both knew better than to decline a drink from her, so we shuffled forward and took the proffered whiskey, downing it with accustomed practice. The burn rippling down my throat was more than welcomed, hitting the sore spot right at its core. I had a feeling I’d be back for more as the evening progressed.

Whoever paid for a dance tonight was in for a real fucking treat.

As soon as our glasses hit the bar top, Betty collected them and waved us off, smashing her cigarette butt in the nearest ash tray. “Alright you two, shoo. Go get ready and do whatever the fuck you need to do not to blow a load on one of my customers. Doors open in thirty.”

Typical Betty.

Sin and I both chuckled softly and headed through the club to the back in comfortable silence. The DJ was already behind the booth prepping his music for the evening, as were the cocktail waitresses who sat a nearby table, chatting before they’d be hustling on their feet till the wee hours of the morning. Their eyes sparkled when they saw us, giggles and hums of approval following us as we flashed them nearly identical slick grins

“Hey, Jag. Hey, Sin.” Multiple voices cooed salaciously.

We didn’t stop though. As cute as they were, not screwing around with the waitresses was one of Betty’s rules the boys and I actually stuck to. Things could get messy with them being co-workers and none of us had time for that shit.

Slipping behind the privacy curtain, Sinclair and I treaded through the dark to the dressing room. I could hear Dare going off about something while August howled his usual laugh. Just hearing my brothers put me in a better mood. Wrapping a hand around the knob, I threw the door open and rushed inside with Sin on my tail.

“Knock, knock, fuckers. Daddy’s home!”

A few hours later, I was balls deep in a striptease with this sexy little blonde, her pert ass in my grasp as she rolled into me in time with the music. Yeah, I know, not usually how this works, but I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. At some point during my dance—with her friends egging her on, I might add—she’d shifted into my lap to give me a tease of her own. And I let her ‘cause shit, I was buzzed and the little mewls she made when I pressed her against my dick was exactly what I wanted to hear after a long ass week of dealing with Calla’s bullshit.

“Yo, Jag!” I heard Darius somewhere amidst Tinashe’s voice blasting through the room.

With my hand in… Fuck, what’s her name? Um… I think it’s Maci, so we’ll just go with that. With my hand threaded in Maci’s hair, I gave her ass a little slap, and peered around her small frame to find Dare. He was right at the edge of the table, that knowing smirk set firmly in place.

“You got a request. Bachelorette party.”

I held up two fingers and he nodded, wading back out into the madness to get things started for me.

“You heard the man, I gotta go,” I said to Maci, and she jutted out her bottom lip.

“Well, that’s not fair. I was just about to haul you into VIP.”

“Give me an hour and I’ll do better than VIP.”

Like my car.

Maci nodded with a sultry wink as I hoisted her off my lap and set her back on the booth with her friends, stalking off in search of Darius without a glance back. My dick was not fucking happy, but I had a job to do, and money came first. It’s not like we wouldn’t be ramming that pussy in the back of my LC soon enough. I’d told her an hour but chicks like her all operated the same.

Easy.

Predictable.

I could take three hours and she’d still be waiting.

Dare was looming over a booth covered in pink bachelorette paraphernalia when I sidled up beside him and slipped an arm around his shoulders, scanning the small group of ladies who were clearly a little past the limit. My grin came naturally. This was going to be fun. Then I noticed the woman at the very end. A leg crossed over the other, she was leaned forward on one elbow, cupping a wine glass in her hand. She laughed whenever her friends belted something out, but the smile never touched her eyes. Tense would describe her best, almost as if she felt out of place, and when her bright green eyes suddenly met mine, I was nearly struck stupid.

Holy fuck.

She was stunning, with this exotic air to her. Maybe mixed or Hispanic.

My fucking weakness.

Dressed far more modestly than her friends, in this plum, long-sleeved number that showed off her legs, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Whatever thoughts I had about fucking Maci in my car just two minutes ago shattered into nothing, because my focus was now solely on her. And she was gaping at me in return, raising every hair on my body at attention, my heart thrashing in my chest. Blinking hastily, her long lashes fluttered about, mouth slightly ajar. Heat rose in her cheeks as my eyes devoured her from head to toe. At my devilish smile, she raked a hand through loose dirty-blonde waves and turned away from me, whispering something to the woman beside her in haste.

She feels it.

I know she did.

Whatever it was exactly, I don’t know, but do you know how hard it was to concentrate after that? Let’s just say I was not the highlight of the double dance Darius and I gave the bride to be. I’d turn around and there she was, wine glass to her lips, watching me from over the brim, eyes wanton and unapologetic. Calling me like a siren. I wanted to dance for her, wanted her to drink me in with that saucy little guise while I pinned her to the couch and taunted her until she begged…

“Who’s next?” Dare’s voice boomed, pulling me from my daze.

“Vida!” The bride bellowed enthusiastically as we backed up off her. “Vida needs one!”

The rest of the ladies nodded in agreement and with intuition stabbing me in the gut, I immediately found myself asking, “Who’s Vida?”

“That would be me.” My little vixen lifted her hand as suspected and I almost fist bumped the damn air.

It was on like motherfucking donkey kong. Darius knew it too; the look on my face said it all. Despite the fact this was supposed to be my gig, he didn’t give me shit about it, occupying the bachelorette and her bridal party while I zeroed in on what was definitely going to be the highlight of my night.

“Ever had a dance...” It was a question I asked everyone.

“Never,” she said, cocking my head back in genuine surprise, ‘cause I mean, look at her. Alluring features, curvy as hell, fucking perfect.

“I don’t mean from just a male stripper. In general.”

But she came back with the same answer a second time, shaking her head.

Well, damn.

This just got a lot more interesting.

The Hills faded in through the speakers, revving up the electricity buzzing between us in tenfold. It was exact amplifier I needed to give this girl the dance of her life, an experience she’d never be able to erase. The Jag Experience—not for the weak of heart. I was good at what I did, I knew it without a doubt, and I worked it to my advantage. Especially right now.

“Sit back,” I ordered gently.

A fierce blush colored her cheeks once more as she complied, melting into the plush obsidian couch. A smirk curled my lips. So beautiful to watch; the prey submitting to the hunter. Caging her legs between my own, I grabbed onto the back of the couch and dipped my head eye level with hers, grinning as she gulped.

“Close your eyes.”

Again she obliged, but I didn’t miss how her hands trembled. Bringing a knee up beside her, I rolled my hips right as the chorus set off, looming closer and closer until my lips just barely skated up her neck. The shaky breath she sighed roused me up like gasoline to a flame.

Let’s rile her up some more, shall we?

“You can touch, Vida,” I murmured, bringing her hand up to my chest. “Just keep it above the belt, sweetheart. It’s for your own good.”

Lust-hazed eyes met mine, then dropped between us, enraptured by my every move. Small hands were quick to steal under my tee, trailing up my rigid torso. Every muscle in my body clenched beneath her unabashed touch. I hissed through my teeth, luring her stare to my face as I reached behind myself and pulled my shirt over my head. Eyes from all around were on us, hoots and hollers exploding over the music. Vida bit down on her bottom lip in realization, the enticing gesture a direct connect my cock.

In one swift movement, I scooped her up in my arms and dropped to my knees where she’d sat, trapping her between the couch and my hard body. Thick thighs locked around me, the hem of her dress rising up an obscene amount. The heat between her legs insanely palpable and fuck was I practically salivating at the mouth for a taste. Pressing her against me, I kept on with my tease, my hands snaking up her waist for purchase. Jeweled eyes on mine, she ground into me with the beat too, completely uninhibited, looking one-hundred percent tantalizing and all too fuckable. Captive at my mercy.

And fuck me if I didn’t want to take her right there, with or without an audience. It would’ve been so simple. Push her panties to the side, dig into her heat. Mark her with my stamp.

Jesus Christ.

I felt like a crazed animal. Needed her closer. Needed to feel her on me, underneath me. Wanted those plump lips yielding beneath my own. I didn’t understand what the fuck was happening, but I was running wild with it; questions be damned.

Thrusting a hand into her hair, I crashed my mouth into hers almost brutally, bubbling a satisfied whimper deep within her.

One brush.

Another.

And another.

Tongues exploring, teeth nibbling. Her taste was addictive, sweeter than honey with a hint of wine. I was higher than a fucking kite, drunk on every facet of this woman’s being, and I wanted more.

To be completely inebriated.

Consumed.