His Stripper by Darcy Rose, Isabella Starling
Myles
My lips are forming a snarl as I stare at the stage. My possessive streak is getting harder and harder to control, especially around Hazel. Something about that girl makes me go fucking insane. And it’s not just her body and her pretty face, those eyes finally exposed without the glasses and shining brightly as her body twirls in front of the two pricks sitting in front of the stage.
She looks so hot. Her body is perfect, and she looks like a natural on the stage. She can really fucking dance. My cock wants her. No, my cock fucking demands her, my mind swimming with thoughts of ripping those tiny panties off her body and filling her up to the very brim with my thick, throbbing shaft. I want to come inside her, on her skin, and claim every hole. The thought is almost too much to handle, so I force myself to push it off my mind. I can’t risk getting even harder. Someone’s bound to notice, and I’m not about to get whipped by an eighteen-year-old girl.
How the hell did this happen? How did she manage to get under my skin so goddamn fast? I never let this happen to me. If I’m infatuated by a woman—and it hasn’t happened in a long fucking time, and certainly not like this—I do a background check before even thinking about putting my dick inside her pussy.
But not with Hazel.
No, for now, she’s still a mystery, making me want to unravel her like a thread and peel her layers back one by one until she’s exposed to me completely.
I lick my lips, knocking back a drink as I watch the two seedy patrons of the club leering at the girl I’ve already marked as mine in my head. The thought of her lips on my cock earlier is almost enough to get me grabbing my crotch through my pants. Fuck, I’m so beyond messed up. This girl has an unrivaled effect on me, and I’m really not fucking sure I like it.
The worst part is, I’m being a total goddamn hypocrite. After all, I gave my brothers shit for doing the same thing I’m doing now—letting themselves think with their dick when a hot chick appeared.
And I fucking pride myself on not losing either head around a hot woman. Except Hazel’s got my head all messed up. I can’t even think without my cock anymore. And my cock wants her bad.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I need to get rid of her. I need to send Hazel on her way before she fucks with my head even more.
I’m going to have to kick her out. She can’t stay with me, not when she’s impacting my ability to think clearly, not when every thought is shrouded by the image of her sucking my cock.
Fuck. I’ve really messed up this time. How the hell am I going to break the news to Hazel? She’ll be fucking heartbroken. But I have to do it… after I conduct a background check on the little temptress.
Her dance finally comes to an end, and I choose to ignore the swelling throb in my pants that’s trying to force me to find her and fuck her into submission. She’ll be back in the dressing room now, comparing her experience with the other girls. It’s the perfect moment for me to do the background check and convince myself not to help her further.
I head into my office and lock the door behind me. After powering up my computer, I begin the steps to find out everything I can about Hazel.
There’s not much to find. She doesn’t have a police record, but there’s some dirt on her in the program I have access to, even though I fucking shouldn’t. She’s a foster kid. She’s had a tough life, really fucking tough. Both parents gone, and then she was kicked out of her last home when she turned eighteen. It’s not a mystery to me that she was living in her mess of a car, but seeing her sad little life summed up into a couple of lines on my computer screen almost makes me feel bad for her.
But I can’t let myself go weak for this girl. I don’t let anyone awaken my human side because I think it’s a weakness. The moment you let people in, you open yourself to being vulnerable. And there are people out there, bad people just like me, who would turn this into an opportunity to abuse me. And even though Hazel’s record indicates she’s clean, I can’t trust her. I don’t trust any-fucking-one. I’m not about to risk being betrayed by the girl just because I can’t stop thinking about sinking my dick in her sweet little pussy.
Fuck.
I can’t bring myself to kick her out. I can’t bring myself to let her dance here either because the thought makes me want to gouge out the eyes of every guy watching her. I’m already getting possessive about the chick even though I’ve barely known her for five minutes, and I know that’s dangerous.
I don’t let myself go weak for anybody. Not my brothers, not the girls who dance here, and certainly not for an eighteen-year-old virgin with a shitty past.
I need to go back downstairs and sort this out once and for all.
Shutting down my computer, I force myself to take deep breaths before descending the stairs and barging straight into the dressing room, where Hazel is laughing along with the other girls.
Something takes over me, like a need to protect her, when I see Holly looking at her with critical eyes. I can tell she’s jealous, and she has every reason to be. Seeing her on the stage, I already know Hazel’s a natural. The tips were probably shit tonight since there were only two guests, but Hazel could make good money here. Certainly enough to get out of her shitty situation, find a place to live, and start her life on better terms—her own.
“Come on,” I bark at her without saying a word about her performance. “It’s time to go home.”
She nods, her smile faltering as she hugs the girls goodbye. She changes in front of me as if I’m one of her friends whom she doesn’t give a shit about seeing her naked. But as those panties slide over the smooth expanse of her ass, my hands form fists, and my nails dig into my palms painfully. Fuck me, she’s goddamn hot. I can’t resist her. I have to get her as far away from me as fucking possible because this is already a recipe for disaster.
“Come on,” I order once she’s put her clothes back on. “I don’t have all day to wait around for you.”
She flushes, muttering an apology as she grabs her handbag and follows me out of the room. We’re in the hallway now, and she’s gearing up to ask me something. I can tell by her needy glances.
“So… did you watch?”
Fuck. How the hell do I answer that?
Do I go for honesty and tell her that her little dance routine got my cock impossibly hard? Do I tell her all I can think about is that—probably untouched—prize between her legs that’s got my dick throbbing like crazy?
Or do I fucking nip this in the bud? I could tell her here and now I’m done helping her, that she needs to pack her shit and get the hell out of my place before the night is over.
I’m a heartless bastard, but her question makes it impossible not to reply.
“I saw some of it,” I finally say, settling for a half-lie. “You were pretty good.”
She beams. It’s kind of cute how desperate she is for my approval.
“Hey, princess.” One of the guests from the club is waiting for us, leaning against the wall and devouring Hazel with his hungry eyes. “You looked good up there.”
Hazel flushes, nodding as she mutters, “Thanks.”
I glare at the guy, forcing myself not to smash my fist into his nose. I hate the way he looks at her—as if she’s a piece of meat he’s getting ready to devour. The desire to throw her over my shoulder and carry her the hell out of here is almost too strong, and I have to force myself to keep my cool. Fuck me, this girl is really getting under my skin.
“Step aside,” I mutter at the guy, and he raises his hands in defeat.
“Sure, boss, sure.”
I’m sure he’s seen me around the club often enough to know I’m in a position of power over him. And I’ve seen him plenty of times too, the cheap bastard. He tips in one-dollar bills. He even tips the servers more, and he takes full advantage of our buffet. But for once, his attention isn’t on the barbecue wings he loves so much. No, all he sees now is Hazel. He licks his lips hungrily, making me itch for a punch.
As we pass, me walking in front of Hazel, he makes a grab for her, saying, “How about a private dance, princess?”
She cries out, ripping herself out of his reach and standing behind me. She already knows I’m going to protect her, and I curse inwardly for making her so goddamn dependent on me.
“Hey, keep your fucking hands to yourself,” I snarl at the guy. He’s a customer, I remind myself. I can’t just beat up every guy in here who’s fucking grossing me out—I’ll be going for days. “She’s not interested.”
“What are you, her pimp?” The prick snickers. “The girl can talk for herself.”
“I said she’s not available,” I hiss, nearing him with darkened eyes. “You got bad hearing, or what? How many times do I need to repeat it?”
I can feel Hazel shivering behind me. How much does this remind her of her past? All those abusive homes she’s been in, all those bad people who hurt her. I need to teach this piece of shit customer a goddamn lesson.
“Fuck you,” he slurs. The guy’s drunk off his head, and before I can react, he tries to throw a feeble punch that only makes him stumble.
In seconds, I have him backed up against the wall with my hand wrapped around his throat. He swallows thickly, raising his palms.
“Hey, I’m fucking sorry, man… I-I didn’t know she w-was one of yours,” he stutters, and I can tell it’s hard for him to speak with my death grip on his neck.
“Fucking apologize to her,” I hiss.
“W-What?”
“Say you’re sorry,” I hiss, motioning to Hazel behind me. “Tell her. Say it. Right now.”
“I…” His expression falters, but when I tighten my grip on his throat, he quickly changes his tune. “Fuck, man! You’re crazy. I’m sorry!”
“That’s right.” I release him, and he stumbles, trying to catch a breath. “Come on, Hazel.”
She falls into step behind me as the guy mutters something behind our backs. He probably won’t dare step foot into this place again. I’ve scared him off for good, robbing the girls of their hard-earned tips, but I don’t give a shit. It’s like pest control—I had to get rid of him.
And as Hazel follows in my footsteps like a lost damn puppy, I know I did the right thing. She deserves someone helping her out after a lifetime of shitty people and bad luck.
Her hand slips into mine, and I grip onto it even though I shouldn’t. She’s so damn trusting. Someone’s going to take advantage of her. And I already know I want that someone to be me.