Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“What next?” he asked her.
“Your tank top,” she said breathlessly.
“Rip it off me.”
With a high-pitched squeal, she grabbed two handfuls and pulled, shredding it easily.
“There you go, sweetheart.” To make the shy woman’s night even more epic, he grabbed her hands and ran them over his bare pecs and abs, before cupping her fingers around his cock and thrusting into her palm a couple of times.
Her friends lost their shit to the point they were practically falling out of their chairs.
He leaned over and dragged his tongue up her cheek, drawing a gasp from her. He put his mouth to her ear. “You wet?”
With her bottom lip once again trapped between her teeth, she nodded.
“Good.”
“Me next!” her friend screamed.
Finn moved away from the blonde and moved over to her not as shy friend, kneeling in front of her chair and leaning back to grab his ankles and make a bridge with his body. Her friend grabbed his junk, squeezing it hard, then dragged her pointed nails up his bare torso.
That fucking hurt. He glanced down and saw the red lines she created. Being fair-skinned, it didn’t take much to leave marks behind.
Tonight’s show was turning these women into animals. All of them. Outside of the club’s walls, most wouldn’t get away with acting the way they were. Not without the risk of being charged with sexual harassment. Or sexual assault.
They knew in this venue they could get away with normally unacceptable behavior. To them, the dancers were nothing more than meat or puppets performing for singles, fives and the occasional larger bill.
One would think that no one had ever paid attention to them before and they might be sexually frustrated. Either that or tonight was just an excuse to step out of their everyday life, their normal behavior, and let themselves go crazy.
He got it. Sometimes he needed to let off steam himself. But he wouldn’t do it in a strip club and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t get away with manhandling the strippers. He’d find his ass thrown out onto the street and banned from the club.
Why women were allowed to do it to male entertainers when it was forbidden for men to do the same for female dancers, he’d never understand. The rules should be the same.
But this wasn’t his career. This wasn’t his job.
Daniel Finnegan wasn’t a stripper, Danny O’Neill was. Tonight he was only playing a part.
Possibly next Monday night, too, but he still had to survive these last few songs first.
With a knee spin, he transitioned back into a stand as the second woman was desperately shoving bills down his tiny boy shorts in an excuse to grab his dick.
He pulled away and moved on, working his way through the crowd to Flo Rida’s Low.
Another woman helped him out of his snug boy shorts and almost tore off the black thong with the cock pocket he wore underneath. If she took that, too, he’d be wandering around with everything hanging out.
When he paused before another woman, pulled her from the chair, shoved her over the back of it and began to spank her ass, a roar rose up around him and a line began to form.
Fuck.
When he heard American Woman by Lenny Kravitz, he knew they were only halfway through the “meat market” portion of tonight’s fun. Of course, this was the most lucrative time for the dancers. He had to admit every single one of them earned those tips by sacrificing themselves to a bunch of crazed women.
Four more songs and they were done.
Four more.
He could survive this. He could.
He dodged grabby hands when possible and found the quieter, less rowdy attendees in the crowd to approach. But he kept moving, trying to give attention to the women the other dancers ignored.
The Peckers were after tips, not attention. This was their job. It was what paid their bills. Right now, being undercover was Finn’s real job and the federal government was paying his salary. That gave him a whole different outlook on how much he was willing to be touched, poked, scratched and bitten.
Not to mention, propositioned. He wondered how many of these women were married and had forgotten that fact tonight.
As he worked his way toward the front of the club, closer to the bar near the entrance, he spotted a blonde leaning back against a wall with a drink in hand. She wasn’t screaming or trying to get any of the dancer’s attention by waving money over her head.
She also didn’t seem to be with a group like most of the other attendees. In fact, she appeared to be alone. Even though she wasn’t trying to draw attention to herself, she still stood out.
At least to Finn.
She was wearing black skin-tight vinyl pants, a red sleeveless button-down blouse with enough of the buttons unfastened to show plenty of cleavage, and red three-inch stilettos. Paired with those shiny, narrow pants, her legs looked endless.