Page 33 of The Naughty Professor
And I looked like sin wrapped in denim.Tight jeans clinging to me like a second skin, black boots polished to a wicked shine, and the gauzy black shirt that was almost see-through.Every line of my chest, my abs, even the cut of my shoulders showed through like I was on display.
Felix would’ve hidden under a cardigan, while I strutted boldly into the fire.
Behind me, Joan and Lorna trailed like mismatched accessories.
Joan couldn’t stop staring at me.I’d seen the way her pupils dilated when I pulled her out of the Nordstrom earlier, when I traded her conservative silk dresses for a tight little mini-skirt that showed off legs she’d probably forgotten she had.Tonight she was working overtime to be the center of my attention, even cancelling her dinner plans just to come here.But she looked more like a lost little lamb following a wolf.
Lorna?She was a vision of lace—enough to make Stevie Nicks scream and throw a tambourine.Red hair piled high, bangles clinking every time she moved, and a smile like she already knew the punchline to the joke.She was my wing-woman, my accomplice, maybe my biggest fan.And if she got the chance, she’d probably drag me into bed, too.
Too bad, sisters, because tonight it was all about the boys.
The guy at the door with the mustache and hairy chest pinched my ass like he had every right to.“Sweetheart,” he purred, “you get in free.”His eyes flicked to the women.“Hey Lorna, it’s been a while.That’ll be ten bucks apiece, ladies.”
Joan’s face fell, sharp with offense, but her wallet was out before she could think better of it.Lorna just chuckled and handed over a crumpled bill.
Inside, Badlands came alive.The lights were low, splashing color over bare chests, leather straps, glistening muscles.Men packed the bar, pressed shoulder to shoulder on the dance floor, grinding and sweating, every glance hungry.I breathed it in — the heat, and the desire.It was like being touched all over without anyone laying a finger on me.Felix had sat at home grading papers every night, miserable.I was being reborn under the strobe lights.
We pushed our way to the bar, the three of us forming a strange parade—sex god, lace witch, jealous devotee.The bartender turned, and I nearly laughed.He was barely legal, smooth chest strapped in a leather harness and a leather bikini barely containing him.He leaned on the bar and gave me a look that was pure lust.
“What can I get you?”
“Vodka Collins.”
He winked, made the cocktail, and slid the glass to me.“On the house.”
Joan ordered wine with a sharp voice, and Lorna asked for a glass of wine too.The kid didn’t even blink.“Twenty bucks.”
Joan bristled.“Why should we pay when—”
The bartender cut her off, smile gone sharp.“Because if you don’t like it, you can leave.”
Her mouth dropped open, stunned.Lorna threw her head back and laughed, the sound like a witch’s cackle, and raised her glass in salute to me.I took a long pull of vodka, cool and crisp, and enjoyed watching Joan fume while she forked out the cash.
That’s when a hot Daddy appeared.
An older man in full leather—vest, chaps, silver chain slung across his chest.His beard was salt-and-pepper, cut close, and his eyes were sharp and greedy.He put his hand on the bar right beside me, leaning in close.
“You,” he said, voice rough with age and desire.“You’re the finest man I’ve seen in Badlands.Ever.”
The words rolled over me like silk, and my cock stirred.I tilted my head and let him drink me in, all smug smile and lazy posture.I lived for this, for being the heat behind men’s stares.Lorna winked at me, while Joan looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.
And then—another guy.
Younger.Muscular, with a body that could throw me around a room.He didn’t ask permission — he just grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the dance floor.I went without hesitation, leaving my drink on the bar.
The lights cut across us in strobes of red and blue.The music roared, a heavy bass that rattled my ribs.Men pressed close, sweat slick against me, but it was him—this stranger—who spun me around, pulled me in, and crushed his lips into mine.
I kissed him back.Hard.Grinding, hungry, needing.My hips rolled against his, my jeans straining over my hard cock.He tasted of whiskey and smoke, and the world blurred until it was only us.
Then, I saw motion at the edge of my vision.Joan was pushing her way onto the floor, with Lorna tugging at her arm like she was trying to reel in a bad idea.Joan’s face was twisted, sharp with desperation, and fury.
She tried to wedge herself between us.But the man only tightened his grip, pulling me flush to him, sealing his mouth against mine again.I moaned against him, eating up the attention, and his hunger.Joan’s fury only sweetened it.
When he pulled back, he shouted over the music, words almost lost in the noise.“Have you ever danced before?”
I laughed, breathless, and cocky.“What the hell do you think we’re doing now?”
His grin was wicked.“No, I mean on stage.Have you ever danced on stage?”
