Page 3 of Damaged Prince
My mouth goes dry as he wiggles his tight, firm ass.
The room goes crazy, loving the show, but quickly shifts into sounds of disappointment when he pulls them back up.
“Sorry, ladies, but you’ve all been naughty this year. That's all you get for the night, no packages under the tree for you from this sexy Santa,” the announcer chuckles. “But don’t fear. Santa has a frisky little helper who would love to show you his not-so-little candy cane.”
The room cheers as Elijah leaves the stage.
The moment he’s out of sight, I’m on my feet. “I’ll be right back,” I tell my aunties.
Without a clue if I’m even allowed to be back there, I make my way to the back where the dancers are, determined to speak to Elijah,now.
“Hey,” someone shouts as I step into what looks to be a dressing room. “You're not allowed to be back here.”
Shit. My hands fly up to cover my eyes.
“Sorry. I just need to talk to my...” What is he? Boyfriend? Brother? Fucking hell. “Friend.” I chose the safest option.
Someone grabs my arms, startling me as they yank me backwards. “Hey!” I shout, trying to get my arm free while readying my other one to swing, when I’m pushed up against a wall.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Elijah hisses, his face so close to mine I can feel his warm breath against my lips. It smells good, like cinnamon candy.
“I’d like to ask you the same thing,” I counter, holding his gaze.
He lets out a harsh breath, pushing off the wall. He paces in front of me, hands grabbing at his hair in frustration.
“Wanna tell me why you're a stripper?” I ask, crossing my arms. There’s no judgment in my tone, only curiosity.
His gaze snaps over to me with an almost feral look in his eyes. “That is none of your business.” His tone is defensive, but I can hear the tremble in his tone.
“You're right, this is none of my business.” I nod, stepping away from the wall and closer to him. He deflates a little, making him look more like a cornered animal. I hate seeing him like this. I want him to know I’m not here to hurt him. “But Elijah, if we’re going to pursue something between us, this conversation isn’t something you can avoid.”
His eyes flick between mine, and I watch all the fight drain from his body. “Fuck,” he sighs heavily, head in his hands as he drops into a crouch. He’s still dressed in the outfit from before, minus the beard and Santa hat. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” He looks up at me with shame-filled eyes.
My heart clenches as I crouch down next to him. Taking one of his hands in mine, I give it a squeeze. “Why do you work here? I know it’s not for the money. Are you in trouble? Are you being forced?”
“What?” Alarm flashes in his eyes. He shakes his head. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“Okay, good.” I let out a breath of relief.
“Laney...” I hate how broken my name sounds. “I–I–” He gets to his feet. “Fuck.”
He’s clearly thrown off by all of this. I don’t want to pressure him into telling me if he’s not ready.
“Hey.” I stand, grabbing his arms and pulling him in for a hug. “It’s okay.”
He wraps his arms around me, burying his face into my hair.
“I want to tell you,” he insists. “I really do. But not right now. Not like this.”
“Okay.” I nod against his chest. “You can tell me whatever you want when you’re ready.”
“I like my job, Laney. I really do. I’m not here for the money. I’m here because I love to dance. That's all I can say right now. Trust me, please?”
“I do.” It’s not a lie. Hell, who am I to judge? If he wants to be a stripper, that's his right. Not that I really like the idea of other people seeing my boyfriend naked.
Not my boyfriend.
At least, not yet, but wasn’t that the end goal?
