Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Fuck, why am I hard?
I don’t do strip clubs. This is not my scene, and this is nothing I want. But she, on the other hand, is everything I want, and when she slides into my lap, something fierce burns through me. She grinds on me, and fuck if my cock doesn’t start to respond. Swelling, thickening, bulging against her. Her breath catches, and she swallows again, her cheeks pink even in the neon blue lighting as she sways and moves.
She pulls the bra away, and I groan as my eyes drop to her perfect—fucking perfect—breasts. Full, and soft, and perky, with these hard little rosy, puffy nipples capping them. My cock pulses even harder, and I know damn well she can feel it when she gasps quietly. She moves on me, a little awkwardly, but the room is still pulsing with this sexual energy as she gets up, turns, and then settles back down on me. I growl as I feel my cock nestle against her tight little ass, and when she starts to rub and grind, my jaw clenches tightly.
One song ends, and as the second one starts, she leans back, swaying against me and letting her arm raise. Her fingers thread into my hair, and my pulse races.
Goddamnit, maybe I am one of those guys. Maybe it’s not that she’s this innocent little broken doll I’m obsessed with because she seems too innocent for a place like this. Maybe it’s just that she’s that good.
She spins again on my lap, straddling me and looking me dead in the eye as she grinds faster and harder. My cock pulses, my balls swelling with cum as the gorgeous, nubile little tease on my lap drags me into her world. I’m falling in headfirst, and I’m lost in those eyes. But as she leans in close and lets her hand slide up her body and into her hair, suddenly, the string on the mask pops, and it drops away. And my whole world goes upside-fucking-down.
…Because I know her.
Actually, it’s about ten thousand times worse than just knowing her. It’s how I know her. It’s the fact that it’s not a stripper sitting on my rock-hard cock in sexy lacy panties with her tits about six inches from my face. It’s that I see her almost every day, wearing a white blouse, a plaid skirt, knee-socks, and flats.
…It’s that her name is Brynn Henley, and she’s a fucking student at Winchester Academy.
She’s eighteen. She’s a senior. Her family is beyond loaded. And yet here she is, giving me a topless lap dance in a strip club champagne room.
Our eyes lock, her face white and mortified looking before suddenly, it’s like she’s been electrified. She bolts off of my lap, grabbing her bra and gasping as she backs away from me.
“Brynn?” I say quietly, my eyes locked with hers.
“Please… don’t… I mean, this isn’t what you…”
She swallows, her face paling.
“Please, Principal Kane.”
And just like that, she whirls, and she’s out the door, leaving me lost, shocked, and trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
Oh, and hard. She leaves me achingly, confusingly, damningly, sinfully hard.
2
Brynn
If life were a movie, this would be funny. It’d be one of the scenes they picked for the trailer, probably. The guy would be someone cute but harmless like Paul Rudd or Seth Rogen or something, and I’d be… I don’t know. Someone quirky and fun? My mask would drop, the music would record-scratch, and one of us would say some sort of hilarious catch phrase like “I did not see that coming!” And the whole thing would be hilarious to a movie theater full of viewers.
…This, however, is not the movies. There is no catch phrase in real life, no perfectly timed music pauses or funny pop song in the background. There’s only the horrible, cold, heart-clenching moment of clarity and shame.
I mean, it’s not every day you walk into the champagne room of a strip club to give your first ever lap dance, only to find your Principal sitting there looking like pure sex in a white dress shirt and dark jeans.
…Thank God.
My face burns, and I cringe as I stumble into the backroom that doubles as a changing room for the girls. The door slams shut behind me as I stumble over to the disgusting sofa in one corner, slumping down on it and burying my face in my hands. And it’s only then that the full weight of what’s just happened really sinks in, and the tears start to brim my eyes.
No one was supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know what I’m doing. I cringe as I sink into the crummy sofa, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes as my gut twists. And for the millionth time since I walked into this club tonight, I try and piece together how the hell I got here. How my life turned into this.