I focus on the corner again and see the blonde from earlier smiling her wicked smile at me before pointing to the stage. Turning back to the stage, I watch as a woman, who I assume is this so-called princess, spins effortlessly on the pole, her movements all but blurring her body from the men wishing she were spinning on their dicks. It doesn’t take me long to see why the bitch from earlier is telling me to look.
With one quick spin, her hands are placed at the center and her legs are spread wide and parallel to the pole, showing off her barely there G-sting, I see my Emmy. It takes a second for the shock to wear off, and in that second, she gracefully drops from her spin with a guarded smile to the men crowding the stage. Lifting her small hands from her side, she drags them up her flat stomach to take her tits in hand and jiggles them.
Fucking jiggles them.
I can’t control my body at this point. I’m focused on one thing—the best way to get her off that stage and out of this place.
She reaches up and, in a move that is obviously practiced, removes her top, throwing it in to the crowd. There she dances with her body on display, caressing her naked tits until her nipples pebble. Turning her back to the room, she bends at the waist and starts to slowly pull her G-sting down her long, toned legs.
This is when the reality of this situation hits me. I’ll fucking kill all of these motherfuckers in the room.
Then she drops to her knees before getting on all fours and crawling towards the end of the stage.
I’m on my feet in seconds, stalking through the crowd, pushing any man who stands in the way of my woman and me. I don’t even lift my arms from my side. I just barrel through the bodies with one goal in mind.
She doesn’t see me coming since she’s back on her feet and walking to the pole again. With a leap that would make my high school track coach proud, I’m on the stage, and a second later, I have a naked Emmy thrown over my shoulders before I jump off the stage. The sharp pain up my leg does nothing to extinguish my determination.
I can see the bouncers coming, and with one hand on her slick ass, I reach out and punch the first one in the face, taking great pleasure watching him instantly buckle to the floor. The other one comes at me from the side, but he doesn’t get far before I pick up the chair to my left one-handed and crack it against his fucking head.
Emmy is struggling with such vigor that I’m forced to put her down. She looks up, ready to spit fire at me, before snapping her mouth shut when she sees the expression on my face. I have no doubt that I look just as feral as I feel.
“Don’t you open that sweet fucking mouth, Emersyn. I swear to Christ, now is not the time to fucking piss me off any further.”
I rip my shirt off and roughly pull it over her head. She struggles and puts up a fight, momentarily distracting me from the third bouncer coming at full throttle. His fist takes me by surprise, but not for long. Grabbing her wrist so she doesn’t get away, I turn to the motherfucker stupid enough to get in my way.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I seethe.
He goes to punch me again, but I duck and pop up before he realizes he failed. Bringing my head forward, I head-butt him right between the eyes and almost smile when he falls instantly.
I’m stopped at the door by the last bartender she was speaking with earlier. He goes to make a move but pulls up when he sees the look in my eyes. I’ll fucking kill and I’m sure it’s written clear as day on my face.
“Do it. I dare you.” My tone leaves no room for argument. I’m leaving with her and there isn’t a person on this Earth who can stop me.
“No. No, Emersyn. You can’t spin like that. If you don’t center your balance, the first thing that you’ll end up doing is face-planting on the stage. You have to grip it like this,” Ivy huffs with frustration.
We’ve been going over this damn trick for the last two hours. She’s frustrated that I can’t seem to pick it up. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I can. I just don’t want to. For some reason, I love annoying the hell out of her.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been being ‘groomed’ to become the Princess of Syn, the strip club my parents own. Great parenting, right? Who has their kid doing pole tricks at ten? My parents do—that’s who. They had me in just about every normal dance class I could take since I was old enough to move. Then it was time to learn the ‘money makers,’ as they call it. To them, this is completely normal. And this weekend, everything changes. I just turned twenty-one, and according to my mother, Ivy, it’s time for me to stop serving the patrons and earn my keep.
“And remember, Emersyn, when you’re on stage, you need to show them everything they’re going to be begging for. No more of that shy shit. You already have The Ram pissed because you won’t take the stage if he’s in the room.”
“Uh, seriously? Why would I take my clothes off if my father is in the room? You two are so jacked up.”
Ivy squints her eyes at me. She hates it when I talk back. And she really hates that I refuse to do certain things when my own father is in the room. I’m sorry, but owner or not, there is no way I’m getting naked when The Ram—what Daddy dearest himself makes me call him—is in the room. That’s just a whole level of icky that I don’t want to deal with. It’s bad enough that my mother has been teaching me how to take my clothes off and seduce men for years.