Page 22 of Tamed Wolf

She laughs as she finally fully sits on top of the desk, her hips at our chest level, and spreads her legs.

Chapter Ten

Blake, Now

I should have known better than to let that asshole Camden make our plans for the weekend. That guy is completely obsessed with women. I know that’s going to bite him in the ass when he finally meets his mate, but whatever. Let him learn his own damn lesson.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” I complain as I follow my identical brothers down the hall.

I’ll give them this; it smells a hell of a lot better than I thought it would in here.

There’s something incredibly mouthwatering floating around, something that smells like a maple bar or something, which feels like a strange choice of air scent for an upscale strip club, but it only gets stronger as we’re led to a private room.

If I look at this somewhat objectively, it’s sort of nice that Camden went through the trouble to do this for us, and I think in his own strange way, he’s honestly trying to help us seek out some dopamine and boner-mine, but it still feels a little uncomfortable.

“Since you’ve never been here, I just need to let you know our rules. Our girls will be respected at all times, understood? Your companion will get close to you and touch you if you’re comfortable with that, but you are not to reciprocate in any manner. There are a couple of bodyguards inside to ensure her safety; she’s the owners’ most cherished dancer and they won’t be happy if she’s disrespected. She’s the favorite for a reason though. I was told you don’t want anyone blonde, and well, she’s as far from that as you can get. Absolutely stunning, sweet as pie, and she’s going to have a great time giving you an unforgettable evening.”

Wow. She really knows how to sell this. I’d probably be slightly more clearheaded though if she hadn’t just flashed us her cunt a few minutes ago. Makes it a bit difficult to take her completely serious.

Until we get in the room anyway, where a pair of massive bodyguards eye us up and down like they’d like nothing better than to return us to the dirt. I throw up my hands. “Chill, we’re cool. We’ve got a kid; you can bet we ain’t looking to get into any sort of trouble.”

They don’t do anything other than grunt and nod their heads towards a collection of chairs.

“Now, do you handsome men have any objections to being touched? We need to get consent beforehand. Triplets, huh? Wow. I thought you looked awfully similar out there, but it’s impossible to miss when you’re sitting together like this. Mistress Ryot is going to have so much fun!”

I look at my brothers as if to ask, we really doing this? But the damn scent is getting stronger still, making my mouth water. “Can we revoke consent later if we change our minds?”

“Oh, absolutely. Mistress Ryot is very accommodating. Even if you decide to not be touched, she’ll be a feast for the eyes.”

“She can do whatever,” Beckett mumbles, somehow already popping a chub. Amateur.

Fuck, I am too.

“Enjoy, gentlemen. Oh, and it’s vital that no recording of any kind takes place within these walls, or you’ll be thrown out on your cute little asses, understood? Toodles!”

She slips out and for some reason, my heart is racing in my chest. Getting a private dance at a strip club is a hell of a way to break a dry spell.

My eyes can’t look away from the pole centered in front of us, my ears taking in the slow, sultry beats that start pumping through the hidden speakers.

The chairs we’re in are plastic and easily disinfected thank the good gods, but they’re sturdy and mostly comfortable. The room feels luxurious and expensive though, total opposite from our décor at home. All dark, rich jewel tones everywhere cascaded in soft lights, and with the doors closed it feels like we’re shut away from everything. There are no sounds from the rest of the club bleeding through, just the three of us fidgeting and waiting; that is, just the three of us besides the guards we’re going to pretend aren’t there to watch us embarrass ourselves.

I’m guessing that’s mostly their role, I don’t really know much about how these situations work.

The lights flip off completely and then start pulsing for a second at a time. A silhouette appears from seemingly thin air, that maple scent rich and fucking incredible. What the hell is that perfume?

“Hello there, Storm Pack, it’s my pleasure,” and she emphasizes that word with a throaty purr, “to take care of you this evening.”

Her voice turns my chub into a raging hard on; that’s embarrassing. I had no idea how much I missed sex.

When the lights flip on back to the low, intimate setting they were on prior, there’s a woman upside down on the pole in front of us, legs completely parallel to the floor and open wide, wearing a black corset thing that’s covered in little rhinestones that keep catching the light.

It cuts over her ass cheeks so they’re bared completely, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my eye sockets as her crotch just hangs out so close to us, so barely covered by fabric.

“Fuck,” one of my brothers mumbles.

She starts doing spins, slowly, working the pole like it’s a lover and not a piece of equipment, caressing it and flipping her hair around expertly.

“Gods, you’re fucking beautiful. I thought we were getting a talented dancer, not a damn angel,” Beckett remarks like a total simp.

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