Page 4 of Naughty All the Way

“What’s involved?”

“Not much, honestly. It’s all about making the bride feel like she’s the hottest woman in the room, and making sure the rest of the crew has a good time.”

“But what does that mean?” I press. “Are we literally dancing?”

He nods. “A little. But it’s more like lap dancing, and then…okay, it’ssort oflike those Magic Mike movies,” he concedes.

“Show me.”

“Aw hell yeah,” Quinton says. “I’ve been waiting to add to my moves. Let’s see what you got, white boy.”

“Are you serious right now?” Axl says, standing and attempting to glare at Quinton.

Quinton ignores him, powering off the television and picking up his phone. “What kind of music do you need? I’m connected to the Bluetooth.”

“I’ll do it,” Axl says. A few moments later, music is streaming out of the speaker we have in the corner of the living room.

I grin and get comfortable in my chair. “Demonstrate.”

“Oh no, hot stuff,” he says, heading to the kitchen and coming back with one of the chairs. “You’re gonna sit right here.”

“What, am I playing the role of the bride?” I scoff.

“Absolutely.”

“No way.”

“You so insecure in your masculinity that you can’t handle me giving you a lap dance, Gabriel?” he taunts.

“Oooh,” Quinton says. “Burn.”

I stand and move to the wooden chair. “Nope, I can definitely handle this. So give it to me.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I’ll give it to you.”

Quinton snorts, and I join him.

Axl turns away from me, and when he turns back around, I swear he’s a completely different person. His whole demeanor is dripping sex, and dude hasn’t even gotten started.

“Whoa,” I say.

He cocks his head, his hands starting to unbutton his vest. “Tell me your name, pretty.”

“Um,” I say, watching as he peels the vest off and swivels his hips.

“Don’t you want to tell me?” he coos.

Okay, he’s good. “Gabriel.”

“Gabriel,” he repeats, and the way he says it almost turns me on. I shake my head and focus.

He’s undoing his button-down now, stopping to rub a palm over the skin beneath the fabric. His hips keep moving, and he’s fucking mesmerizing. In another few minutes, the shirt is off, and he’s circled me, trailing his hand over my neck and leaning in to ask if I like it so far.

“Shit, man, you’re makingmehot,” Quinton says.

He undoes his pants, doing a whole thing with the zipper before turning around and slowly pulling them down.

“Are you wearing Christmas briefs?” I say incredulously.

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