Page 20 of Dust to Dust

It was both freeing and frightening.

Tilting her head at me, Isla questioned, “So will you teach me?”

If I allowed myself to teach her, I would be breaking not only my rules, but the club’s. My lap dance was the test to make or break a dancer. Within the parameters of those rules, Isla had obviously failed and should be shown the door.

By teaching her, I’d be allowing Isla to cheat. In a way, I’d be choosing her over my brothers. Well, at least over their business model.

Who the fuck was I kidding? A man like me didn’t concern himself with morality. What would it hurt to give Isla a leg up? I could assure her silence to the other girls about her audition. No one would be the wiser.

“Please,” Isla implored.

“Fine,” I grunted.

Her blue eyes popped wide. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I can never thank you enough!”

“Can you at least shut up and listen?”

“Mm, hmm,” she replied with a cheeky little smile.

God, this woman. She was like staring down the barrel of a gun and not flinching or moving. She would be the fucking death of me.

Without another word to Isla, I took my place on the sofa. After once again assuming the position, I said, “The first thing you’re going to do is touch me.”

Her gaze dropped to my crotch. “There?”

To both of our surprise, a laugh tore from my lips. “No. You never touch a cock. Well, at least not with your hands.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

“You’re not going for the obvious right out of the bat. You want to tease the desire from them. You want them aching for you.”

When Isla licked her lips, I fought the urge to groan. “I can do that,” she murmured.

“The way you’re going to set them on fire is with your hands on their body.”

She frowned. “Do I start at the top and work my way down?”

With an exasperated sigh, I demanded, “You’ve ridden a guy, right?” At her squeak, I replied, “Where is the focus of your hands when you’re fucking?”

“Uh, his shoulders and chest.”

“Right. Start with the chest.”

As she bent over me, the sweet smell of her shampoo filled my nose. It had a hint of vanilla. Isla tentatively placed her hands on my chest. At the gentle swirl of her palms on my pecs, I growled and smacked my hands over hers. “Harder.”

She licked her lips. “Okay.”

I slid her hands down my chest and over my abdomen. When we got closer to my cock, she tensed. “We’re not touching that, remember?”

“Right,” she murmured.

After bypassing my crotch, I slid her hands down my thighs and then back up to my hips. “Yes, like that.”

“How long do I do it?”

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