Private Dancer

But she’d agreed to a deal.

The thought whispered through her mind. She didn’t give her word lightly, and there was a huge reward waiting if she lived up to her part. There was a reason she was here, stripped down bare. Her fingers clenched. She had a fundamental disagreement with the two men who stood somewhere outside the dressing-room door. What they called ‘pleasure’, she called ‘sin’. They might enjoy the things that went on in this club, but what about the dancers? Did they feel objectified? Ashamed? Dirty?

She hoped her church’s picketing had caused some self-analysis, but the situation had become stalled. Something needed to be done before a peaceful protest turned into something ugly. Bas had given her an opportunity to push past that barrier.

She just had to dance.

In these tiny strips of sparkly fabric.

That left her virtually naked from the back.

Her stomach twisted. ‘But you’ll get your way …’ she insisted to her reflection.

There was no way she was going to enjoy this. It was so much more than in her dream. More nerve-wracking. More scary. More immoral. Her palms were damp and her pulse was racing. The thought of walking out into the main room sent a wash of cold through her. And climbing up into that cage? She felt like she was going to be sick.

The end was worth the means, though, and the end was a foregone conclusion.

Now. She had to do it now before she lost her nerve.

The heels of her borrowed shoes clicked against the floor like a countdown clock as she walked to the door. Bas would be there to accompany her to the stage. She had to think of it as a stage, because that was what it was. Once she started thinking of it as a cage, she would lose it.

Her fingers were tremulous as she opened the door. When she saw the man waiting for her, her nipples pinched just as surely as if he’d reached out and nipped them himself.

Remy.

He was leaning against the wall again, his shoulders taking his weight, but he stiffened when he saw her. Her self-preservation instincts kicked in and she tried to close the door. He stopped her with one hand spread wide against it. Taking one step, he entered her space. His heavy gaze chafed as it moved down her body.

Alicia quivered.

The air had become charged, staticky and ready to spark. Goosebumps popped up on her skin and her breasts ached. Their tips were unbearably tight, pressing against the thin fabric and catching his attention. A muscle in his jaw worked.

She let out a surprised whimper when he rubbed the back of his hard knuckles over an engorged nub. That was it, just a nudge, a hard bumpy caress and her breast felt like it was on fire.

Unlike Bas, he didn’t smile. If anything, the line of his jaw only hardened.

The door swung open as he pressed on it harder and Alicia had to accept the inevitable. It was time. She had to dance.

If she didn’t, she knew she’d be flat on her back on the dressing room floor with this big, intimidating man rutting into her.

Her private area clenched again, and this time wouldn’t relax.

Hunt’s hand settled on her lower back as he accompanied her down the hallway. It felt hot and huge, his fingers tickling the line of her thong. She folded her arms over her stomach. Her breasts felt full and they bounced with every step she took. Her butt felt exposed and that insidious strap of fabric between her cheeks was driving her mad.

Too soon, they were out in the main room.

She sucked in a hard, nervous breath and felt every man’s gaze in the room turn to her. She felt vulnerable then. There was nothing between them and her. Their lecherous hands, those hungry eyes.

Instinctively, she moved closer to the big man at her side. His hand slid from her back to settle at her waist.

‘They’re looking at you because you’re hot,’ he said softly. ‘Dance, and they’ll be begging at your feet.’

Her breath hitched. She’d been told she was beautiful before, both in body and spirit, but being hot was something else entirely. It made her feel feminine. Womanly. Powerful.

‘I’m ready,’ she whispered.

The cage would protect her, put some solid bars between her and the crowd.

And deep down in that secret place inside her, she wanted to be trapped inside it. On display.

Alicia was vividly aware of her nakedness as she walked across the room. There was no place to hide and she felt the stares on every inch of her bare skin. Too soon, they were at the cage. A series of steps lifted her to the small enclosure. Hunt held her hand as she climbed, her thigh muscles quivering with every step. Her fingers wrapped around a bar as she stepped inside. It felt solid and sturdy. The door clicked shut behind her and she spun around.

Had it only been a short time ago that she’d walked into the front door of the Satin Club? Fully dressed with good intentions?

She watched the crowd as it started to gather around her.

She’d definitely crossed a line.

Silence boomed around her, and her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She wanted out. She needed to run.

But the music started then, and her eyes drifted closed. ‘Feel Like Makin’ Love’ by Bad Company. Her belly clenched. Oh, that was so not the song she needed, with its grungy groove and insinuating rhythm.

It got to her just like every other time she’d heard it.

The beat of the song awakened her muscles and the sensuality flowed through her veins. Still, she stood frozen. There were so many eyes upon her, so many men gathered round her tiny, elevated stage. Bold eyes, lustful eyes.

A steady green gaze caught hers. Bas. She looked at him, her panic mounting.

‘Dance,’ he mouthed.

Dance. Right. That was their agreement.

Her hair brushed against her back as she looked nervously from right to left. The club’s patrons had gathered around her and she was fully circled. Her skin tightened. She felt self-conscious and uncertain. Indecent. A high wolf-whistle permeated the air, competing with the soulful song, and her face flushed.

Dance.

She had to dance.

Five minutes and it would be over. She could get dressed, the club would go on hiatus and she could get her father and his followers to move on. Hopefully, somewhere far, far away.

Her hips gave a little twitch.

‘Ooo, baby. That’s right.’

She nearly laughed, she was so nervous. Really? That was all it took?

She closed her eyes and let herself slip further into the music. She’d always been able to vanish into its midst. Her hips started rocking, though her legs were still pressed together tightly. She made her arms drop from where they were wrapped around her waist.

The song really was wicked. It pulsated, advancing and retreating with clever guitars and a booming bass line. A groan sounded somewhere behind her, and her body loosened. All she had to do was listen and move. And it felt good to escape, to go somewhere else in her head and become someone entirely different. Suddenly, the music had her. She was in the song, in the moment.