This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, character names, establishments, locations, or incidents are the work of the author’s imagination and is used fictitiously. If any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, places, locations, establishments, or events are coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Brie Paisley
All rights reserved. This book is not to be copied, shared, or produced in any way without the written consent of the author.
Cover art by Rebecca Marie of The Final Wrap
Edited by Nikki Reeves of Southern Sweetheart Author and Book Services
Formatted by Brenda Wright of Formatting Done Wright
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Five years before…
My heart pounds loudly in my chest, as I wait.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It’s actually a soothing feeling, and the beat is strong, but yet, erratic. With each thump, I feel a rush of adrenaline pulsing through me, preparing me for what I’m about to do.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Breathe.
Letting a rush of air out of my mouth, I inhale, filling my lungs with the precious air I need to calm myself. I should be nervous, or even terrified of what I’m about to do. Instead, I feel as if I’m riding a high and can’t seem to come down. My body feels electrified, but also, like I’m on edge. It’s the thrill. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I haven’t even done what I’m getting paid to do yet.
The lights hit my back, and I hear the song begin to play. With my back towards the crowd of high-class men, I slowly raise my left hand, and then run it down the gold pole beside me. “Often” by The Weeknd blares through the speakers, as I grip the pole. Walking around, as I keep my hold, I relish hearing those men, calling out to me. My veins fill with another rush of adrenaline, and I grin widely, as it flows throughout my entire body. The pleasure is shocking, but also, so addictive. It’s knowing all of their eyes are on me, calling out to me, and wanting me, even though they can’t touch me.
It makes me feel powerful.
It makes me feel desired.
Most of all, it makes me feel something that I’ve been searching for continually, for a very long time. These high-class men have no idea they’re feeding my inner most need just by being here. It’s something I crave. I want to feel alive, and I also want to feel this slow burn, flowing through me all the time.
God, who would’ve thought that becoming a stripper would be the very thing I needed to fill the void.
Facing the crowd, I let go of the pole, as I flip my hair. Bending at the waist, I move my hips to the beat of the song, loving how with every small move, they yell for more. So, I give them exactly what they want, as I reach behind me and unzip the tight corset. I don’t do it quickly either, because where is the fun in that? No, I do it slowly teasing them, while making sure to keep moving around the stage. Once I’m finished unzipping the corset, I let it fall, and then kick it to the side of the stage. Running both hands up my sides, I bite my lip, as I reach my breasts. Another rush quickly fills me, as I cup myself for my new admirers, even if it’s just through my bra.
I turn, giving them my back, as I reach the pole once more. Grabbing onto it with both hands, I bend at my waist. Grinding my hips, I slowly make my way down to the floor. After all the years of my mother forcing me to take dance lessons, they’re finally paying off.
Although, it’s not in the way that she wanted.
Turning around, I sit with my legs open, giving the men the show that they’ve been waiting on. I have no shame, as I run my right hand down my chest, and then in-between my breasts. Only then do I stop, as I reach my aching core. Dancing for all these strangers, has turned me on, and I don’t want to stop. As I touch myself, through my thin panties, I rotate my hips, while placing a finger in my mouth with my other hand. Letting my head fall back, I get lost in the lust and desire, flowing through me.
It’s hard to stop.
It’s hard to focus
It’s extremely hard to get up and continue.
I’m so hot and wet that I wouldn’t care, if I fucked myself up here on this stage. I don’t care either that all these strangers would see it. In fact, just thinking about them watching me come undone, makes my pussy clench with such force, that I have to suck in a deep breath.
As I push out the same breath, I work the pole, making sure to push down my need for sex, but it’s a part of the gig. It’s also another reason why I accepted this job from Viktor Matvei. I’m sure he has no idea just how badly I need this. At least, not in the way he thinks.
Using all my strength, I pull myself up on the pole and swing around. Using my legs, I grip the pole, letting myself fall back, as I reach behind me once more, unclasping my bra. As I bare myself to the clients, even more catcalls sound, and I hear them perfectly. I don’t hear the music pounding, or my heart thumping in my ears.
It’s just them calling out to me.
Fuck. Me.
That rush.
The satisfaction alone is almost my undoing.
Even knowing all of this, I don’t try to stop myself from becoming addicted to it. I let it happen, because I want to experience this sense of euphoria again.
And again.
This sensation I’m getting just from dancing is quickly becoming an addiction I
