Stepbrother Demanding (His Wicked Plan, Book 1) by Lucy Scott Page B

serious issues , I thought to myself. But that didn’t stop me from staring at him like a deer in headlights.
    I was the one who was supposed to be putting him in a trance, taunting his hormones until he couldn’t breathe, then doing as instructed by club management- leaving him speechless, dazed, and with no choice but to come back for more some other lucky night.
    The club owner, Adriano, gave me an unforgettable rundown of the rules of engagement with all clients. Rule number one, no hands. We could straddle their legs as we danced, but our hands were to be kept to ourselves. Rule number two, no tongues. We were allowed to whisper empty sweet nothings into their ears, but we had to keep our tongues locked away, no matter what the client’s plea was. And rule number three, our bottom was to stay on at all times. Topless was allowed in the VIP room, but that was it.
    I appreciated all three of these rules, having no intentions of doing anything more than I absolutely had to in order to collect as many checks as I could and ultimately form an escape route away from my mom and Walter.
    Okay, so my very first client caught me off guard. What could I do?
    Recover.
    I reminded myself why men like him came to places like this. They saw women as objects, toys that were theirs to play with and then throw away once they had gotten what they came for.
    “This is your first time, correct?” he said.
    His words threw me completely off balance. My heart raced as I took a step to the side, hoping to avoid feeling so vulnerable in his gaze. Problem was, I borrowed a pair of Vicki’s three and a half inch heels to match my outfit, if you could even call what I’m wearing an outfit. Needless to say, her large shoe size suddenly posed a major problem for me as my foot slipped out of one of the pink pumps, causing my legs to cave in like a baby doe trying to walk for the very first time.
    I let out a high-pitched scream as I started to go down. Only I never made it to the hard, red-carpeted floor as the client caught me in his arm just before I crashed.
    “You okay?” he asked, his voice now huskier than it had just been. He held me in his arm effortlessly, my body still suspended just inches from the floor. The feel of his hand on the soft skin of my back sent a rush of heat shooting down my spine.
    I let out an audible gulp. “I don’t know.”
    “Well at least you just confirmed my intuition,” he said, still hoisting me above the floor.
    “What intuition?” I asked, still savoring the feeling of his warm hand on my bare skin. I never thought Vicki’s oversized death heels would end up being the best thing that ever happened to me.
    He chuckled, “I knew you were a newbie at this sort of thing from the moment you walked through that door.”
    I felt embarrassed and flattered at the same time. Somehow just knowing he was paying that much attention to me right off the bat was enough to send my head soaring towards the clouds. I wanted to tell him I was so much more than just a stripper, that I was an artist just trying to save up enough money to make good on my acceptance at one of the best art schools in the country. It was so odd- the fact that I suddenly wanted a man I could barely even see, let alone know anything about, to understand the real me behind this skimpy hot pink bikini and oversized set of high heels.
    Then he reached his other arm around my back to finish securing me in his rapture.
    I felt breathless as both of his hands were now completely wrapped around my entire body. It was like he had instantly engulfed me in his very own testosterone-filled cocoon.
    But I also felt terrified, and I couldn’t stop from suddenly shaking.
    His voice was now right next to my ear, so close that the warmth of his breath made the tiny little strands of peach fuzz on my ear lobe stand at attention. “It’s okay, I’ve got you now,” he whispered.
    I was clearly out of my element here. No stripper would be reacting this