His Stripper by Darcy Rose, Isabella Starling
Myles
What the fuck? Did this fucker behind me seriously just hit my car? I can’t believe this shit. I don’t care who the hell is in that car, I’m ripping them a new one. Someone is going to pay for this.
I get out of my car and slam the door shut behind me. I’m so fucking angry, I feel like punching something… or someone. Preferably whoever is responsible.
My mind already reels with how I’m going to drag the fucker into an alley to end his life. Ace is not going to be happy to send the clean-up crew for this, but I don’t give a fuck. This moron hit my car, and what good is it being part of a powerful mafia family if you can’t kill random people for pissing you off?
Walking around my car, I take in the damage. Fuck! There is a good-sized dent in my back bumper, and the paint is chipped off. Another surge of anger runs through my veins.
I turn and look at the rust bucket that hit me. The front bumper is practically about to fall off.
Raising my head, I look through the windshield at the driver. At first, all I see is brown hair, but when I get closer, I can make out that a woman is definitely behind the wheel.
Great. I hate killing women. No fun in that.
Her head is down, her long hair covering her face, and when I stop right next to the window, I can see her hands in her lap. Her thin fingers hold the hem of her sweater so tightly her knuckles are white. I notice her shoulders are shaking like she is crying.
Fuck, this is getting worse by the second. I don’t want to deal with a crying chick. I’m moments away from spinning around and walking my ass back to my car, but I decide if I can’t kill her, I can at least scare her a bit. That might be fun.
Raising my hand, I knock my knuckles against her window and wait. She doesn’t look up or move to open the door. She could at least roll down the damn window.
My anger is reaching a boiling point. No one ignores me. I knock again, this time hard enough to hurt my knuckles, but she still doesn’t move.
Shaking my head, I reach for the door handle and pull. To my surprise, it’s unlocked, and the door swings open.
“Hey, lady!” I try to get her attention. “Did you not see the red light?”
No reaction.
“Are you deaf or just ignoring me?” I yell at her, barely containing my fury.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, shaking her head. “I’m really sorry.” Her voice is trembling.
Then it occurs to me that she might be hurt. She is probably half my size, and her car is old and rusty. The crash must have shaken her up more than me.
Opening the door wider, I crouch next to her.
“Hey, can you at least look at me?” I ask, keeping my voice even, but my lingering annoyance and anger bleed through anyway.
She finally nods. Keeping her head bowed, she turns her head slightly. Lifting her hand, she tucks her hair behind her ear, letting her face come into view.
Her large baby blue eyes find mine and go even wider as she takes me in. Yeah, I get it. I look like a scary motherfucker. It’s by design.
The sadness and profound guilt I see in them has my anger slowly dissipating. Not only that, but also she looks young, much younger than I expected. She is basically a kid, around sixteen or seventeen.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologies again, her body shaking.
“It’s okay,” I say without thinking. It’s really not okay, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Yelling at this scared teenage girl is not going to be satisfying since she is already scared shitless.
Cars whiz by us in the other lane, one of them honking their horn. Asshole.
“Did you turn on your hazard lights?”
“Ah… no.” She looks over the buttons on her dashboard but doesn’t know which one to press.
Leaning over, I reach across and press it for her. As I do, her sweet floral scent evades my scenes. Mmm, she smells good, so sweet, and I can almost taste her innocence. I haven’t fucked a virgin in a long time, and she looks most assuredly like one. My dick twitches against my zipper, and there is a low rumble in my chest at the thought.
Looking at her pretty face, I notice a small red bump on her forehead and wonder if she hit her head. She is wearing glasses, which are slightly fogged up from crying and one of the lenses has a crack running across.
“You broke your glasses,” I point out as I settle back into a crouch next to her.
“Oh.” She takes them off and inspects the lens. Her frown deepens, and more tears run down her cheeks. “I hit my head on the steering wheel. It must have happened then.”
Nodding, I watch her for a few more seconds, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. She is pretty enough, and vulnerable. I can’t have her work at the club if she is underage, but I could definitely fuck her. But that may be more trouble than it’s worth, depending on her situation.
“I’m guessing you don’t have insurance?”
Lowering her head again, she shakes it slightly.
Trying to get money from her is going to be a nightmare. Obviously, she has none, and it’s not like I’m hurting for cash. The best thing to do is just walk away. I should just leave her here. She is not my problem.
I fucking know she isn’t, but something stops me.
“Are you good to drive?” I ask her. “There is a diner on the right. Can you drive into the parking lot so we can get out of the road?” I point at it. We can see it from where we are now.
“Yeah, I can make it.”
“Okay, follow me then.” I push up to a stand and close the door, then watch her put her glasses back in place before I return to my car.
I slowly drive the two-hundred feet and turn into the diner. I keep an eye on the mystery girl in my rearview mirror. For a second, I’m worried she won’t follow me into the parking lot and will take off instead. Then again, that might be what I need right now.
She pulls up beside me into a parking spot. I kill the engine and get out of the car, and so does she. We meet in front of her hood, where I take a moment to study her.
Now that we are standing, our size difference is really noticeable. She is short and skinny, wearing black leggings, old sneakers, and an oversized sweater that has a tiny hole on the collarbone. Her hair falls off her shoulders in messy brown locks. Her eyes are glassy from crying, and her plump lips are dry and chapped.
She looks like a mess, but a beautiful mess. She doesn’t wear a lick of makeup, which she wouldn’t need anyway. Her skin is smooth and flawless everywhere. She has high cheekbones, a cute button nose, and big eyes rimmed by black coal lashes.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” She sniffles.
I raise my eyebrow at her. “Are you sure about that? You don’t look like eighteen.”
“I am, I promise.”
Well, that changes things. I rake my eyes over her tiny body once more, this time paying better attention to her tits and tiny waist. She would look good on stage… and her lips would look great wrapped around my cock.
A sob rips from her chest, reminding me that she is still a hot mess, and I don’t feel like dealing with some sobbing chick all day. I can just get her number and get to her later.
“Do you have anyone you can call to come and get you? Parents? A friend.”
She shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself as if she is physically trying to keep herself from falling apart.
I have the unreasonable urge to hug her, to pull her into my chest and tell her everything is going to be okay. Where the hell did that come from? I don’t hug people. I’m close to my five brothers, and I don’t even hug them. Shaking that foreign feeling away, I think about my next move.
“So an eighteen-year-old girl with no friends and family…” I say more to myself. She is beautiful as hell and looks very young. She has an innocence around her that would do great at the club. Really fucking great actually. Maybe it’ll be worth it after all.
“Do you want to go inside and grab something to eat?”
Her eyes flicker to the front door, and I can see the excitement twinkle in her eyes, but then she shakes her head again.
“Why not? I’ve eaten here before. It’s pretty good.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“I see. How about this one is on me?”
Her eyes shoot up at me as they widen in surprise, and her eyebrows raise. “I hit your car. Why would you invite me to eat?” she asks, and well, that’s a really good question. The problem is, there is no way I can give her an honest answer.
Because if she knew what I have in mind, she would be running away from me as fast as she could.