Page 21 of Bad Boy Next Door
Eight
Jade
Finally back in my jeans and T-shirt, I sat on a stool, facing away from the bar and into the empty club. I couldn’t have been gladder to be out of the hideous silver uniform I’d stuffed into my bag and couldn’t imagine wearing two nights in a row without washing. If nothing else, I wanted to rinse out the residue left by the creepy customers’ gazes.
Even though I’d been careful not to let any men touch me, I felt like I’d been dunked in filth.
My new job was humiliating, but the huge consolation prize was buried in my purse along with the uniform. I’d made almost as much money tonight as I made in a week at all my four old jobs combined. And that was just in tips. Every Tuesday I’d also get paid a week’s wages. The hourly wage was terrible, but the tips were great.
Tonight had clinched it. I was quitting the last of my old jobs. It would be strange to have so many hours off. Home all day, only working one eight-hour shift a night—and I didn’t have to work at all on Mondays! The money was that freaking good.
Melodie claimed dancers made even more. Wow. In my old life, I’d barely scraped by, what with paying rent, covering my sister Crystal’s college expenses, and bailing out Dad when he got picked up—usually for loitering, or for drunk and disorderlies. The idea ofsavingmoney had been as real to me as unicorns.
But it turned out unicorns were real. And the quicker I could put money in the bank, the quicker I’d be able to get out from under showing “gratitude” to Nick—and apparently his brother Keagan. The quicker I could start training to be a chef.
Entry-level jobs in gourmet kitchens either paid nothing or, if you werereallylucky, next to nothing. Working for free under top chefs was the working alternative to culinary school, an apprenticeship of sorts, and I’d never been able to afford either form of education.
Leaning back against the bar and leaving one foot on the stool’s rung, I swung up my other leg, bringing my shin near my nose. I held my leg straight and pointed my toes. My thigh muscles shook, but I was still pretty bendy and strong, considering I hadn’t been anywhere near a gym since my foray into high school gymnastics.
Transferring all my weight to my hands, I pushed my butt off the stool and leaned my head back, striking a pose I’d seen Melodie perform on stage with a chair. Bending and straightening my extended leg, I turned my head to the side, flirting with an imagined audience.
Could I actually do it? Dance at this club? Get naked in front of strange men? It was supposed to be illegal to have nude dancers in a club that served alcohol, but that didn’t seem to stop this place. Stan probably paid off the cops.
I wasn’t sure I had either the guts or desire to dance on stage, but it felt good to stretch after hours of carrying trays of drinks while walking on six-inch platform heels.
After doing the same motions with the other leg, I set my butt back down and split my extended legs in a deep v-sit, my splayed limbs almost crossing the same plane as my head. It was hard to balance on the stool, but I felt pleased by how wide I could still split. I brought my legs together, lowered them, and touched my toes to the floor. Then I slithered off the stool, grabbing it from behind as I swiveled my hips.
I had no idea how I looked, but it felt kind of sexy. Was it? Maybe Melodie would give me a few pointers.
Rising, I turned to face the stool. From there I let my gyrating hips lead my body into a deep crouch, then straightened both legs quickly, ending up bent over the stool.
Someone coughed.
In a heartbeat, I came out of my lewd pose.
Nick stood close by, his expression dark and heated, the crotch of his jeans straining. Had I done that to him? Maybe Icouldbe a dancer.
“Is that another way to show your gratitude?” He took a step forward.
“Dream on.” I gave him the finger.
He stepped closer. “Believe me, I’m dreaming.”
My breath caught in my chest. As hot as he was, there was no way—not a chance in hell—I was going to add sexual favors to this unholy arrangement between us. But I couldn’t deny that his gaze, his words, his physical presence made my girl parts all kinds of needy.
Stupid girl parts.
I snapped my eyes up, realizing I’d been focused on his package.
Angel had said something about a huge dick, and if Nick was anything close to proportional, his member must be massive. I couldn’t help but picture his cock—long and thick and hard, like the rest of him.
Looking into his eyes, I couldn’t break the intense connection between our expressions, and my insides contracted, pulsing, pleading with me to do whatever it took to get that man’s dick inside me.
I needed to get away from Nick before I did something stupid like turn these unwanted fantasies into something real. Swallowing my lust, I turned away and picked up my bag. The last bus arrived at the stop down the street in ten minutes, and although I’d planned to wait in here until the last possible moment, it felt safer to risk a little stranger danger than risk more alone time with Nick.
“Jade. You want a ride home?” A female voice pulled me out of my lusty stupor. Melodie walked in from the back hallway, wearing her hoodie and sweats, and jangling her keys. “The Shitty Melrose express is about to depart.”
Melodie had a car! I felt immediate relief. According to Google, the public transit route home this time in the early morning was going to take eighty-seven minutes—if I made all the connections. With Jade driving, we’d be home in less than fifteen.
