Page 19 of Damaged Prince
“Let me check.” She picks up a tablet and does something on it before bringing her attention back to me. “Looks like he has a few dances lined up already after he’s done on stage. I can put you down on the list.”
There’s a fucking list?
My fist grips the glass so tight I’m afraid I might break the damn thing as possessive jealousy fills me.
This is his job. He’s only doing his job.
Still, I don’t like the idea of me sitting here and waiting while he’s dancing for other men.
And that leads to my emotions making decisions for me. “Put me down,” I grumble, taking a big swig of my drink. “And keep these coming, please.”
“You got it, big guy.” She winks.
Leon finishes up with his set, and the crowd goes nuts. I don’t dare look, afraid I might see more of him than I’d like to... again.
I enjoy the male body—I’ve even been with a few men in my life—but I draw the line at seeing one of my students in the nude.
Okay, correction, a student I’m not already head over heels for.
The music stops for a moment, only the chatter of the people around me filling the space. That is, untilPonyby Ginuwine starts to play.
Something about that song has them losing their shit.
Remembering Eli is up next, my attention immediately shifts to the stage.
And fuck me. I choke on my drink as I watch him make his way out onto the stage. He has this sexy, playful grin on his face as he keeps his attention on the people in front of him.
The way his body moves puts me under a spell. My whole body shifts in my seat, angling towards him. My eyes roam over him, unsure where to look first. His handsome face with an expression of pure joy, his defined, tattooed muscles that glimmer in the spotlight that beams down on him, or the way he fills out those skintight spandex booty shorts.
“Dear god,” I groan under my breath, eyes locking on the outline of his cock. I forgot how big he was, and he’s not even hard.
The crowd seems to enjoy the sight of it too, hands reaching out for him as they try to grab at him when he gets closer to the edge of the stage.
Elijah knows what he’s doing, dipping his body, dancing out of the way of their greedy hands. He doesn’t let them get close enough to slip any bills into the band of his shorts, making them throw it onto the stage instead.
Another primal thrill fills me. He might be a stripper, he might show off his body as part of his job, but he has boundaries in place, and that I admire him for.
Knowing what he’s been through, I’m not surprised. It also makes sense why he prefers private dances over lap dances.
I’m fully captivated by his performance. He’s stunning to watch.
By the time he’s done, I’m shifting in my seat, trying to hide the very obvious erection I’m sporting.
I feel like a dirty old man right now, perving on some hot young thing.
When he leaves the stage, I can’t help but feel disappointed.
Because now that he’s done performing up there, he’s going to be heading back to dance for whoever the fuck is on that list.
If I wouldn’t end up behind bars for trying, I’d find everyone on that list and tell them to get lost.
This is Eli’s job, and I don’t want to be the one to cause any issues for him, but fuck, I feel insanely possessive right now.
I’ve known about his job for a while now. And while I’ve always had a bit of jealousy about it, I never once let it push me into acting on it.
That was all done online; we’ve never taken our relationship to the real world. So it’s easy to push those feelings to the side and forget about them.
Now, seeing it in person, this intense, caveman urge is clawing at me.
