I can’t believe Derek just made me cum so hard. My whole body is still shaking with the aftershocks. And that cock. Oh my God. Like magic.

I give him a flirty smile, sure that he’s ready to go now that he got what he came for.

When he leans back and drapes his arm across the seat, looking like he’s about to settle in for a while, I’m totally shocked.

“So, Sapphire,” he says, gesturing for me to sit close to him, “how long have you been dancing?”

That’s a safe enough question. “Several years.” I give him a teasing look. “How long have you been getting private dances?”

Derek laughs. “Would you believe me if I said tonight was my first?”

“Not a chance in hell.” I laugh too.

“Smart girl.” His lips fall into that sexy as sin smirk. “But it was the first one this good.”

No doubt. I’m not the most sought-after stripper for nothing. But still, his comment makes me smile. A real, true smile. Not the fake kind I normally use to placate my clients.

I tap my temple. “Just because I’m a stripper doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain.”

He turns toward me, interest in his eyes. “I don’t doubt that. You’re damn good at what you do. What did you do before this?”

I slant a puzzled look his way. Why is he asking all these questions like he actually cares? Shouldn’t he be paying up and heading out the door?

But I have to admit that I’m not ready for him to go. I’m actually enjoying talking with him. Still, I’m surprised when I find myself telling him about getting my degree in economics before I decided this was a better choice.

“Interesting,” he murmurs.

“What can I say?” I know my eyes are full of mischief. “I love sex.”

Derek drops his head back, laughter shaking his chest. “My kind of girl right there.”

“What about you? What do you do?” Only fair that he satisfies some of my growing curiosity.

He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, his eyes scanning me as if he’s trying to get a read on me. “I deal in foreign relations. You know, international business. That kind of shit.”

I take note of that accent again. “Where are you from?”

Derek’s eyebrows fly up. “What makes you think I’m from anywhere?”

“Your accent.”

“You noticed that?”

I give him a funny look. “Um, yeah. Was I not supposed to?”

He shakes his head, laughing. “It’s not that. I’m just surprised. Most people don’t notice. It’s not that obvious.”

“Maybe they haven’t been paying enough attention,” I tease, fingering the collar of his shirt. My eyes are drawn to his lips, and I swallow, jerking them away. Nope. Can’t go there. Even if he is the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen and just gave me a fucking mind-blowing orgasm.

“Maybe not,” he murmurs.

“So, where are you from?”

“Europe,” he says evasively, then turns the questions back on me. “You always lived in New York?”

“Just since after college.”

“I like it here. I could get used to it.”

“What do you mean? You have to go back or something?” I ask, wondering why I feel such disappointment in that. I figure it must be because he’s obviously a very wealthy client and part of me had hoped he might become a regular. That would be a huge boost in growing my retirement fund. So much for that, though.

He nods. “Eventually. But for now? I’m here. All yours.” Derek stretches his arms wide and smiles, all bold arrogance again, as if he’s gracing me with his presence.

I giggle. “Yeah, until the next great piece of ass comes along.” I say it teasingly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Sapphire, you wound me.” He clutches his heart as if I’ve inflicted mortal damage.

“Please. You know you’re a total manwhore.” I shrug and grin. “Can’t blame you. With a body like that? I would be too.”

I draw my eyebrows together at the irony of that statement, because hello, I’m a stripper, and Derek laughs again.

“I think you just might have me nailed.”

I smirk. “I think you have that backwards.”

Derek drops his eyes down to my tits, his gaze making my nipples perk up to attention. When he reaches out and runs a hand over my shoulder, I shiver.

I should get up and leave. Make him fork over the cash and be on my way. This is dangerous. I want him way too much. But I can’t seem to make myself move away.

“What do you do when you’re not working, Sapphire?”

I swear, he acts like he really wants to know. What is that about?

“Do you always make a point of getting to know the women who dance for you after you’re done with them?”

I don’t know why I’m asking, other than he makes me feel different. And I need to know if it’s just me, or if he does this with everyone. A really big part of me that shouldn’t care actually wants to believe that it’s just me.

He stares at me for a long moment, then lifts a brow and smirks, that fucking sexy smirk that just does something for me. “What makes you think I’m done with you?”

Oh my God. That dim pulsing in my pussy that I’ve felt all night suddenly amplifies into a needy throb. He’s not done with me yet? I ignore the voice telling me I’m walking a thin line here. Because I sure as hell need to know just what else he has planned for me.

I lower my eyelashes, an unfamiliar feeling coming over me. Something a little nervous. A little desperate.

“You aren’t done with me?” I whisper.

His eyes bore into mine.

“Fuck no, baby. I’ve barely gotten started.”