After receiving terrible news about the future of her career, a NYC ballerina becomes a choreographer at a failing male strip club to make some extra cash and spice up her life. What she doesn't expect is to fall for the one man who doesn't want his...
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Damn. Had anyone ever said anything like that to me before? That they were going to raise my standards?
No. No, they hadn't. Romeo's declaration did more than pique my interest. He'd guessed right when he'd said my standards were too low. I'd been scraping the bottom of the barrel for so long, settling for men who were Mr. Right Now and never feeling fully satisfied.
It was hard to deny the excitement running through my veins, along with the needy ache of pleasure twisting away inside me. Was he suggesting he was Mr. Right? No, of course not. He was just a better version of Mr. Right Now.
"And how do you intend to raise my standards, Romeo, oh Romeo?"
"I was hoping you'd ask," Romeo said.
Romeo gave me a wry smile before his hand left my face to grab me around the waist and toss me over his shoulder in one easy motion. A surprised gasp left my mouth, along with a chuckle.
My dancing partner lifted me in the air during our solos, but there was something insanely hot about being unceremoniously tossed over someone's shoulder.
My instincts kicked in, and I tried to balance myself so he didn't have to support all my weight.
He chucked again. "This ain't the Lincoln Center, Tanushree. No one is watching but me." Romeo turned toward the mirror, and I felt his warm rough hand travel up the back of my thigh. The rough scrape of his palm on my smooth skin sent an excited jolt of heat straight to my damn vagina. "And you look so fucking hot right now."
Oh. So, I didn't need to pose or act or make myself look sexy? I could just be at ease? It felt strange but almost came as a relief.
Romeo dimmed the pink rope lights down even further before he took a seat on the smooth white leather couch in the corner of the room, promptly setting me on his lap, straddling his hips.
It was difficult to see anything in the dark except the outline of his body illuminated by a pink glow. His hands wrapped around my waist and scooted me forward until his insane erection was between my thighs. Two very thin and rather damp pieces of fabric were all that stood between him and me.
I tried to hold back a moan, but couldn't. It had been so long since I'd been with a guy—too long, in fact—and I was ready to get this going. Men didn't want girls dragging things out. They wanted to get their dicks wet and move on. But, Romeo didn't seem to be in any hurry at all.
He leaned back against the couch, watching me with that same intense look, and I squirmed under the press of his gaze, wondering what he wanted from me. His eyes traveled down to my boobs, which were hiding inside a very padded bra. Having a perfect body for ballet meant I had a modest chest, but I didn't think Romeo cared how big my tits were, not if his dark look was any indication.
Did he want me to take my shirt off? Or should we start kissing first? Just the thought of tasting his lips had me leaning forward ever so slightly, but this man didn't even move. He just kept watching me with a slightly amused look on his face.
