Read Online Lycan Alpha Claim 3 by Tamara Rose Blodgett, Marata Eros - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tamara Rose Blodgett, Marata Eros
Ads: Link
Now?
He lays out the ground rules.
“You will get an email each Monday that outlines the new meeting place...”
“What? It's not at a club?”
“Will you let me finish?” Thorn smolders at me and not in a sexy way. I've seen that look of heat before and it parallels intimidation.
He glares at me until my eyes drop. I breathe in and out deeply. I loathe him and how he makes me feel. How he makes me feel about my decisions.
“When the email comes in, you respond if you'll be there.”
I meet his eyes again, and he smirks. Ty knows he has me. “Why are you Thorn?” I ask, taking him off-kilter with my question.
He answers with deliberate slowness, “Every rose has its thorns.”
Our eyes lock and he asks, “Ready?”
I nod.
“You get a hundred dollars a lap dance.” His eyes sweep past mine, and he recites the speech as if it’s a recipe for cookie dough. “The quicker you give the dance, the better you do it, the more money there is. The clients are not allowed to touch you, and you never have to do anything you're uncomfortable with.” He says the last part with the sincerity of a felon.
Our eyes meet again and I get the message.
Thorn's into clarity.
He lists off the things you can make extra for. “Let them grope your titties- fifty dollars. Hand jobs, one hundred.”
I swallow. I think there's a little throw up in my mouth. I don't say I've never done a hand job. Thorn already called me whore, and there's no convincing the decided. And really? It's better that Thorn thinks I'm what he presumes I am. Thorn doesn't know why I'm doing this. He doesn't know my past, my present job. He's guessing, and I'm all for keeping it that way. The less he knows is definitely more.
Those thoughts take seconds.
Thorn moves on, “There will be security. Not that it's needed.” He flicks his eyes to mine and smirks. “We have trained gorillas outside all the stations. So the girls don't have to worry.”
I squirm a little, thinking about how they'll fire me on the first night. My temples pound with the familiar start of a migraine, and my hand closes around the crumbled card of Doctor Matthews inside my purse. My appointment next week looms in front of me and I don't look at Thorn's dark face, eyes that hate me, a body that wants me. I know someone's got a tight leash on Thorn or he would have done more than proposition me and threat.
Who?
Jared McKenna? The elusive, semi-hero billionaire who happens to own the nicest strip club in Seattle?
I look at Ty, a.k.a. Thorn again, and wonder who could leash that pit bull.
“I'm not sure what to do...” If I don't say something, he'll hear about it from a pissed client. This isn't working my sore muscles against a pole in front of men from a safe distance. It's different.
Intimate.
Thorn grins, his white teeth an eery slash against his dark complexion. He strides over to where I stand, and I barely hold my ground, gritting my teeth.
He towers over me even though I'm 5'9” in my stocking feet.
I pull away and he frowns, gripping me tighter. “Chill out, it's a tutorial. I'm not going to rape you.”
Right. My body remembers and locks up, fights for air, for reason.
He looks at my face and gives a dark chuckle.
Thorn moves the swivel chair and sits down on it, slapping his lap once.
I die inside. If someone had told me I would be this close to Ty the creep manager, I would have laughed.
Not laughing now.
I gingerly lift one knee and place it on the outside of his thigh, his dark eyes watching as I do. The other knee follows, and I force myself to grip his shoulders for balance or I'll fall against him.
I shiver, and he takes it for arousal instead of loathing.
Thorn grips my hips, and I hiss and try to pull away.
“That's not going to work on the dudes we have coming to enjoy this body of yours.” He jerks my hips forward, and I feel his erection against my upper thigh.
“Move.”
I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I rub against him
He lays out the ground rules.
“You will get an email each Monday that outlines the new meeting place...”
“What? It's not at a club?”
“Will you let me finish?” Thorn smolders at me and not in a sexy way. I've seen that look of heat before and it parallels intimidation.
He glares at me until my eyes drop. I breathe in and out deeply. I loathe him and how he makes me feel. How he makes me feel about my decisions.
“When the email comes in, you respond if you'll be there.”
I meet his eyes again, and he smirks. Ty knows he has me. “Why are you Thorn?” I ask, taking him off-kilter with my question.
He answers with deliberate slowness, “Every rose has its thorns.”
Our eyes lock and he asks, “Ready?”
I nod.
“You get a hundred dollars a lap dance.” His eyes sweep past mine, and he recites the speech as if it’s a recipe for cookie dough. “The quicker you give the dance, the better you do it, the more money there is. The clients are not allowed to touch you, and you never have to do anything you're uncomfortable with.” He says the last part with the sincerity of a felon.
Our eyes meet again and I get the message.
Thorn's into clarity.
He lists off the things you can make extra for. “Let them grope your titties- fifty dollars. Hand jobs, one hundred.”
I swallow. I think there's a little throw up in my mouth. I don't say I've never done a hand job. Thorn already called me whore, and there's no convincing the decided. And really? It's better that Thorn thinks I'm what he presumes I am. Thorn doesn't know why I'm doing this. He doesn't know my past, my present job. He's guessing, and I'm all for keeping it that way. The less he knows is definitely more.
Those thoughts take seconds.
Thorn moves on, “There will be security. Not that it's needed.” He flicks his eyes to mine and smirks. “We have trained gorillas outside all the stations. So the girls don't have to worry.”
I squirm a little, thinking about how they'll fire me on the first night. My temples pound with the familiar start of a migraine, and my hand closes around the crumbled card of Doctor Matthews inside my purse. My appointment next week looms in front of me and I don't look at Thorn's dark face, eyes that hate me, a body that wants me. I know someone's got a tight leash on Thorn or he would have done more than proposition me and threat.
Who?
Jared McKenna? The elusive, semi-hero billionaire who happens to own the nicest strip club in Seattle?
I look at Ty, a.k.a. Thorn again, and wonder who could leash that pit bull.
“I'm not sure what to do...” If I don't say something, he'll hear about it from a pissed client. This isn't working my sore muscles against a pole in front of men from a safe distance. It's different.
Intimate.
Thorn grins, his white teeth an eery slash against his dark complexion. He strides over to where I stand, and I barely hold my ground, gritting my teeth.
He towers over me even though I'm 5'9” in my stocking feet.
I pull away and he frowns, gripping me tighter. “Chill out, it's a tutorial. I'm not going to rape you.”
Right. My body remembers and locks up, fights for air, for reason.
He looks at my face and gives a dark chuckle.
Thorn moves the swivel chair and sits down on it, slapping his lap once.
I die inside. If someone had told me I would be this close to Ty the creep manager, I would have laughed.
Not laughing now.
I gingerly lift one knee and place it on the outside of his thigh, his dark eyes watching as I do. The other knee follows, and I force myself to grip his shoulders for balance or I'll fall against him.
I shiver, and he takes it for arousal instead of loathing.
Thorn grips my hips, and I hiss and try to pull away.
“That's not going to work on the dudes we have coming to enjoy this body of yours.” He jerks my hips forward, and I feel his erection against my upper thigh.
“Move.”
I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I rub against him
Similar Books
