chapter forty-seven part III

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I honestly thought singing karaoke on stage twice would be the most adventurous thing that I'd do tonight, but when Nia spotted the bright neon lights of the strip club down the street, I knew things were about to get a whole lot crazier.

I didn't even have a chance to try to steer her toward something else because the second the words left her mouth, Luke threw an arm around her shoulders, and they both drunkenly led our group across the street toward the club.

I caught Jenny's smirk as she pulled James along behind her. He was doing a great job of convincing Jen that he didn't care if they went in or not, but when he looked over his shoulder at Tristan with the most excited smile I've ever seen, I couldn't hold back my laugh.

When I follow Jenny inside, the change in energy is palpable.

The building is dimly light, apart from the enormous catwalk-like stage in the middle of the room, decorated with poles every few yards. The spotlights above the stage are flashing a kaleidoscope of colors, perfectly timed with the song's rhythm playing loudly through the speakers. The air catches in my throat at the sight of the three girls on stage, swinging seductively on the poles. Some of them are in lacy underwear, similar to what I wore last night for Tristan, while others don't have tops on at all.

The guys jog down the aisle of tables, dropping down into the seats in the front row, and when I hesitate by the door, Tristan squeezes my hand. I know he's about to tell me that we can leave if I want. That we can walk around the strip or go back to the restaurant and wait for everyone to finish up here, but when I catch the smile on Nia's face from across the room near the bar, I know I can't leave her.

She looks over her shoulder, and when her searching eyes find mine, she smiles at me and points to the front row as if to say, save me a seat!

I nod, giving an encouraging smile, one that I hope shows how proud I am of her for how well she's doing tonight. If I were her, I'd also be incredibly drunk, but I'd be back at the hotel racking up our room service bill while ugly crying into an entire carton of ice cream.

But that's not Nia.

Nia doesn't process heartbreak like the rest of us mere mortals.

James wraps his arm around Jenny as he leads us down the aisle toward the rest of their teammates, and when he leans down to whisper in her ear, she tilts her head back, smiling up at him as she slips her hand into his back pocket.

The guys have already claimed most of the front row seats, but we fall into the empty chairs near the end of the stage. Jenny sends James to sit on the other side of Tristan so Nia can sit next to her, and when he drops down between Tristan and Luke, the freshman's excited commentary echoes down the row as three new dancers enter the stage.

"I love strip clubs." Nia beams as she rounds the corner with a stack of cash and an entire bottle of tequila. "You're going to love it, Abs. It's so empowering to see those women get on stage and take control. To have an entire room of men drooling over them." She laughs as she drops into the seat on the other side of Jenny. "And it's a great way to learn new moves. Just pay attention to what they're doing so you can recreate it later." She winks at me before tilting the bottle back, taking a few long pulls of the tequila.

When Tristan clears his throat on the other side of me, I look over to see him grinning, as if to say, yeah, you can try out whatever you want on me later. I'm definitely not opposed to that.

I raise a playful brow and lean over to press a kiss to his lips. If you had told me that I'd be kissing Tristan Beck—my boyfriend—in a strip club in Vegas at the beginning of this year, I wouldn't have believed you. But when he reaches up to cup my cheek and deepens the kiss, I can't imagine being anywhere else.

I think I've had a little more to drink than I probably should have, but that's okay with me because I'm three tequila shots deep by the fifth song and now fully understand what Nia meant. Strip clubs are amazing.

Amazing.

We've been hyping up the girls as they dance on stage, cheering them on while drunkenly swaying to the beat in our seats. Each new dancer that takes the stage always starts near the middle, right in front of the guys, but midway through the song, they always end at the end, dancing for us. I like to think it's because they appreciate our drunken cheers, but also because other than Luke, Nia's the only one with money to spare.

When one of the busty, blonde dancers dips down so I can tuck a few bills into the garter on her thigh, I smile over my shoulder at Tristan. He's lounging back in his seat, smirking at me over the lip of his beer bottle, as if he's perfectly content just watching me enjoy myself.

He reaches over and rests his hand on my back, brushing his thumb across the hem of the lacy material of my shirt. I sit up a little straighter at the touch, watching his eyes dip down to follow the path of his fingers across my back. A shiver shakes my shoulders when his calloused thumb finds the dip of my spine and slowly follows it up, just under the hem of my top.

When his eyes flick back up to mine, they're darker than before, and suddenly all I can think about is how every nerve in my body is hyperaware of the painfully slow movement of his thumb as it brushes across the back of my ribs and down the curve of my waist.

I sigh inwardly, leaning back into his touch.

When his thumb slowly brushes back up the side of my ribs, I take a deep breath, clenching my thighs together at the heat now pulsing between my legs. His thumb makes a teasing pass up my ribs, just barely grazing the side of my breast.

I need him to touch me.

To really touch me.

A soft, frustrated groan vibrates in the back of my throat when he makes another pass up my ribs, just barely grazing my breast. His brow cocks at the noise, and if I wasn't drunk as hell and desperate for him, I might have been embarrassed by it. He brings his beer up to his mouth again, casually taking a sip before sliding his tongue across his lips. When my mouth pops open at the sight, his lips pull up into a haughty grin. One that makes me clench my thighs a little tighter.

I want to lean over and kiss him, to ask him to take me back to the hotel, to call it a night and spend the rest of the night in bed, but before I can, Nia's excited gasp pulls my attention.

She's waving over a dancer walking down the aisle toward us, and when she requests three dances, one for each of us, Tristan's slow, teasing fingers freeze on my back.

"Merry Christmas, ladies." She smirks, falling back into her chair.

Three dancers walk down the aisle, and when a gorgeous brunette in beautiful lingerie stops in front of me, I smile up at her nervously. Tristan's hand slides off my back, and I lean back in my seat as she takes a step closer to me.

I don't have to look over to know that his teammates have left their seats to get a better view of our dances, and when Luke groans loudly as she bends down in front of me, her lips only inches from mine, I can't help but smile.

"What's your name?" I can smell the sweet bubblegum on her breath, and when she smiles, my eyes flick down to her lips.

I glance over to see Tristan staring at me with flushed cheeks, and when she reaches up and gently turns my head back to her, a flood of heat flashes in his eyes. A pulse of heat washes over me at the thought of this turning him on, so when my eyes meet hers again, I smile up at her.

"Abby."

"Abby, that's such a pretty name. I'm Layla."

Her brown eyes are smoked out by black liner and shadow, and when she smiles down at me, I can't help but smile back. This girl is really, really good at her job. All she's doing is leaning over and talking to me, but I can already feel the energy spiking from the entire basketball team, who are slowly getting closer to get a better view of us.

There are signs all over the room that say no touching, but Layla reaches out and grabs my hand as she turns around. She holds our interlocked hands over her head as she sits on my lap and starts to grind her butt against me to the beat of The Pussycat Dolls Buttons blasting through the speakers on stage.

My mouth drops open a little as I watch her hips move in a way I've never seen before, and when she bends over and puts her hands on the floor to raise her butt as she shakes it, I glance over to see the boys all staring with slack jaws and wide eyes.

Layla flips her hair over her shoulder, and when her eyes flick to Tristan, she smirks. She reaches back and grabs my hand to place on her hip as she starts to grind against my lap while she guides my other hand down the side of her thigh.

Turning around again, she climbs onto the chair, straddling my hips as she grinds on me while pushing her chest closer to my face. I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing because I can hear Luke's horny commentary loud and clear, and when Layla brings her lips to my ear, her bubblegum breath warms my cheek.

"Is he your boyfriend? The hottie with the curls?" she asks over the music, grinding on my lap. When she pulls back, I nod, and her smirk deepens. "I can tell." She laughs as she brings my hands up to her stomach, and when she leans over to whisper in my ear again, I can feel her legs moving as she shakes her butt—more for the benefit of the spectators than anything else. "He hasn't taken his eyes off you this entire time."

When she pulls away again, she has a bright smile on her face. Her eyes flick between us, and then she asks, "Do you want me to teach you?"

I stare up at her as her words sink in, and I know it's the tequila taking control because I can't believe that I actually say yes.

She holds out her hand for me, which I take as she helps me out of the chair, and when she takes my place, she beckons me forward with a single finger.

"Holy—fuck." Luke's groan pulls my attention. When I look over, the entire team is watching me, wide-eyed. My eyes flick down to Tristan in the seat beside Layla, and I can tell that he's having a hard time swallowing, which makes me feel a little more confident as I step up to her.

I glance over to see Jenny's dancer shaking her butt in her face, and Nia's dancer is somehow upside down while Nia throws dollar bills into the air around her.

Layla places her hands on my hips and pulls me closer, slipping her leg between both of mine until I'm standing as close to her as I can without climbing onto the seat with her.

"You start with your hips," she instructs, slowly guiding my hips in a circular motion, similar to how she was dancing before. She uses the full motion of her hips, making it a very drawn-out and exaggerated movement. Nodding, she smiles up at me and then trails her hands down the back of my thighs until she grabs just above the bend of my knees.

"Now, keep up those movements with your hips while you slowly bend your knees, lowering yourself until you're grinding against my leg."

I glance over at Tristan, whose brows rise as he watches my body move to the music while I slowly lower myself onto her leg. She nods encouragingly at me as she brings her hands above her head while she moves her stomach and chest to the music.

"Don't forget to use your hands," she says, running her hands up her neck as she tilts her head back until her hands are lost in her hair in an effortlessly sexy way.

I mirror her movements, tilting my head back while trailing my hands up my body slowly until I reach my neck, where they disappear into my hair. She guides my hips back up, so I'm standing again as she smiles up at me.

"Now bend over."

The throaty groan that sounds from beside us isn't from Luke this time, and when I look over at Tristan, his eyes are dark and molten. I'm mesmerized by him until Layla's hand closes around mine and tugs me down gently, so I'm bending down over her.

"Arch your back," she instructs.

I do.

"Pull your shoulders back a little."

I do.

"Now you can move your hips again, sway to the music."

I do.

Layla beams up at me, and for only knowing her for like three minutes, I feel like this has somehow bonded us because I beam back at her. The last few notes of the song play out, and I take a step back, extending my hand to help her back up.

I only catch sight of Tristan for a second before I reach down and hand her the entire stack of money that Nia gave me to tip the dancers with. When her brows raise, I don't have time to explain the considerable tip because I'm already following Tristan through the crowd toward the doors, ignoring the catcalls and cheers of his teammates when he leads me out of the room and into the lobby without a second glance.

Our hotel is only a ten-minute walk away, but when he steps up to the curb and hails a cab, I can tell by the way he pulls open the door and stands back for me to slide in first that he's just as affected as I am, just as eager.

He connects our lips the second the cab pulls away from the curb, and suddenly, all I can think about is the feel of his desperate, impatient lips against mine and the sound of the near-constant city traffic passing us by outside. The back seat of the cab is dark, a stark contrast to the brightly lit street we're driving down, and when his grip on my thigh tightens as I open my mouth for his tongue, I lose myself in the veiled privacy of the small cab. My hands, now steady and eager from the tequila, are set on exploring him.

When I brush my thumb against the side of his neck, his pulse careens just under my fingertips as he pulls me even closer to him. His kisses are rough and quick—commanding every nerve in my body to come alive when he grabs my jaw and kisses me deeper. The groan that vibrates in the back of his throat when I knot my fingers in his curls sends a wave of heat down my spine.

An impatient groan slips through my lips when he breaks the kiss, but when he brushes his thumb across the line of my jaw and turns my head, giving him access to my neck, I swallow hard as the hot pulse between my thighs intensifies. I cross my legs and readjust my position on the seat, hoping to ease the need there, but it only intensifies when he smiles into my neck, his chuckle a soft, torturous vibration against my skin.

Tightening my hold on his curls, I tug impatiently, pulling him closer to me. His hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt to grab my butt, as his teeth latch onto the skin just under my ear, pulling a gasp from my lips that echoes through the cab when he bites down and starts to suck.

My eyes flutter closed as the warm pleasure courses through me, but they fly wide open when I remember where we are. My gaze darts to the cabbie, politely ignoring us as he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing from the radio. His casual indifference relaxes me a little, and while I know I should scoot over until we get to the hotel, I can't seem to bring myself to unknot my fingers from his hair or give up the feel of his lips on my neck. Maybe it's the tequila, but I can't deny that the idea of someone watching us like this turns me on even more.

Tristan's hand slides back down my thigh slowly, and my breathing catches in my throat when his teeth graze across the bruise now blooming on my neck. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to silence my moan as his thumb caresses the inside of my leg. It's an innocent gesture, but paired with the way he's kissing my neck, it sends another wave of heat down my spine.

When the cab finally comes to a stop, Tristan breaks away from me. Digging into his back pocket, he hands the cabbie a few folded bills before sliding out and extending his hand to me. My entire body is on fire as we walk into the lobby. Not many people are loitering around since it's well past two in the morning, but the few who clearly recognize Tristan as we pass by don't approach us. I'm a little surprised that we manage to make it clear across the lobby without an interruption, but when I press the call button and look up at him, I can see why.

His jaw is clenched, and cheeks flushed, and the dark look in his eye, the one that sends a shiver down my spine, clearly means he has no intention of being interrupted right now. It's a hard mask, an intimidating one, and when his eyes flick down to mine, they darken as they dip down to my chest in the bright lobby lights above. The heat pulsing between my legs flares, and when the soft bell of the elevator rings out around us, I hurry in, slamming my finger against the button for his floor.

Twenty-five.

Just twenty-five floors.

The doors start to close, and while I'm eagerly expecting to feel his lips on mine as the elevator begins its ascent, my breath catches in my throat when he drops to his knees. His hands are sliding up my thighs quickly, not wasting a second, and when he stops at the hem of my skirt, he looks up at me with raised brows.

I nod quickly, eyes flying up to check the empty elevator around us as his hand slides down my thigh and lifts it, positioning it over his shoulder.

This is such a bad idea. We could stop on any floor. We'd be caught in a second. We'd get kicked out of the hotel. We'd—

His thumb brushes across my underwear, circling the swollen bud of nerves. The feel of the lace against my clit is enough to make my legs shake, and when he adds more pressure with each circle, my hips rock forward as a shocked moan slips from my lips. That seems to snap whatever restraint he has left because he hooks the lacy material with his thumb and pulls it aside, exposing me completely.

I grab the handrail behind me to keep steady, and before I can remember all the reasons why we shouldn't be doing this right now, he parts me in one long, tortuous stroke of his tongue. My hands tighten on the rail as my head falls back against the wall, looking up at the mirrored ceiling with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. I can see him perfectly in the reflection, the movement of his jaw as his tongue slides in and out of me, licking his way up to my clit. When he starts to suck, my lungs freeze in my chest.

The soft beep that rings out every time we pass a floor pulls my attention, and my heart clenches in my chest as I watch the number slowly rise.

Eighteen.

His tongue finds a quick pace, sending a wave of goosebumps across my entire body.

Nineteen.

I can't bite back the moans that slip out as his tongue builds me up, and up, and up, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth across my clit, nearly making my legs give out.

Twenty.

He tightens his grip on my thighs, holding me up when my legs start to shake.

Twenty-one.

"Please, please don't stop." I gasp, rocking my hips toward him, begging for more pressure. When I take a hand off the rail to knot it in his hair, tugging roughly, he pulls back to look up at me with a wicked grin before ducking his head back down and setting my entire body on

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