Page 2 of Ethan's Sky

My eyes travel up her navel to her mouthwatering tits wrapped in a black leather halter top. It squeezes her tits together showing the perfect amount of cleavage. There’s no way those things are fake the way they jiggle and bounce as she moves. My hands tingle with the need to touch and squeeze, watching them bounce as she rides my cock.

Her long red hair swishing back and forth with each hard thrust of her hips as she stomps across the stage in unison with the others. They turn to pair off,, her hand sliding up the thigh of her partner. Her hair falls in waves down as she arches her back. Her partner’s fingers trace down the valley between her tits to the top of those fucking shorts. Cat calls and wolf whistles fill the room.

The dancers break off, leaving the beautiful goddess centerstage. She crawls to the edge, dragging her knees. Her back arches as she moves each step in time with the beat.

My cock strains against my zipper.

She leans back, rolling her hips, her hand over her head, and as she humps the air. Her hand grabs her tit then slides down between her legs grabbing her crotch. I want nothing more than for it to bemyhands exploring her every curve and valley. When she arches up, her legs scissor open then closed to the rhythm. She bites her lip, not making eye contact with anyone, completely lost in her performance and the music. She’s shut everything and everyone out around her except the music. It’s like she’s not performing for the crowd. Not like the other dancers who are intentionally smiling and making eye contact with the patrons near the stage. She doesn’t care about the people watching. She’s in her own world. One I’d like to visit.

She’s mesmerizing.

I was wrong. I do want attention tonight.Hers.

When the waitress brings my bourbon, I nod to the stage, never taking my eyes off her and ask, “Who’s the redhead in the middle?”

“That’s Lady Scarlet,” she offers as she drops the napkin and sets down my drink. “She’s pretty popular. It’s why the boss likes her. She draws a crowd.”

I don’t like how everyone else is watching her like this. It’s stupid, I know. I have no claim to her, but I want to be the only one she dances for.

I could pay for a private dance.

“Who do I see to get some one-on-one time with her?”

The waitress shakes her head. “Not gonna happen, sugar. Management doesn’t allow her to give privates.”

Her words pull my attention from the stage momentarily. “Why?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Mine is not to ask questions, but to serve the customers.” I get what she’s saying. When you work for someone like Vincenzo Parisi, ignorance is bliss. Especially when it means working for one of the most feared mafia bosses in the states.

I focus my attention back to my fantasy turned real on the stage as the song is coming to an end. She’s still in her own world, lost in the music, as she drops low to the ground, crawling forward, sliding her tits across the stage, her hand stretched out in front of her luscious ass high up in the air.

Jesus, I want to hit that ass. Just. Like. That.

When her head finally pops up with the last beat of the song, she’s panting, sweaty, and finally…our eyes lock.

Hello beautiful.

She gasps. Or maybe I imagine it. But right here in this moment, I make a vow to myself to have her in this very same position, naked and writhing as I take her and make her mine.

1

SKYLER

Text: SKYFALL

My stomach drops at the word flashing on my screen in a group text. It’s our code word for“get your ass home now!”It’s not a casual code word like when I was a kid, out past curfew, getting the warning to get home before get my ass in trouble.Skyfallis my Daddy’s favorite James Bond movie. The one where he went back to his childhood home known as Skyfall.

It's the movie where everything came full circle and secrets were revealed. Secrets from the past. It’s why Daddy chose it. Because if he’s sending this one word out to the five of us, it means I need to come out of hiding and get my ass home.Now.It also means my secrets will only be kept for so much longer.

I don’t waste time fumbling with my phone. I know Daddy will call me any minute and fill me in as soon as he can. My job right now is to get my go-bag, load up what I need from my apartment, and get the fuck out.

I know who’s on the text line. Both Gabe and Eli, presidents of their own chapters of the Kings of Fury MC, and my Uncle Ghost. I know they’re all doing exactly what I’m doing now. Rallying together and putting shit in motion.

I dig through the bottom of my closet, reaching all the way to back behind my shoe rack and grab my black go-bag. I unzip the top and double check its contents. I know I don’t have to. I haven’t taken anything out of here since the last time, but I still feel the need to double check because honestly, I need something I can be certain of right now. My preparedness to get the hell out is something I’ve never been more certain of in my life. It was only a matter of time before my demons caught up to me.

My phone rings, and I don’t hesitate to answer.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” It’s nearly two in the morning, so he should be halfway back from his run by now. He was hauling a trailer up north for West Enterprises, meant to return by home around seven a.m. then head here for breakfast.

---