28. Riley
“Quit scratching that thing, princess,”Dante says, catching me in the act as he passes my room.
I jump, dropping my hand from my healing tattoo, startled more than I should be since I know all three men are home right now. We’ve all been on edge though, and I know Dante gets it. West Point has been getting more and more aggressive, and just yesterday he attacked us again, getting a lot deeper into Reaper territory than he’s dared up until now.
Worse, this time, a few of our people got hurt. It’s not just Austin who’s getting more aggressive; the mercenaries he’s hiring seem to be getting more bloodthirsty by the day.
“That motherfucker,” I whisper, appreciating it when Dante frowns and steps fully into my room, pulling me against him.
“We’re gonna end him,” he says, not needing me to explain where my mind just went since he feels it too.
“I know. Are we making any progress, though?”
“You know what Logan says.” He pushes some of my hair back, smiling down at me. “It’s coming together.”
I’m not sure that’s exactly what Logan actually said, but I go up on my toes and press a kiss to Dante’s mouth, happy to take his reassurance in the spirit he means it.
For now, at least.
He’s got to be just as stressed as I am, but for the first time in a few days, he doesn’t look it. I don’t know how. We’ve all spent every waking hour since Sienna dropped the bomb on us about Austin’s plans, working to make the most of this information… and it feels like we’re stuck on step one. Namely, we’re still trying to dig up evidence that Austin is planning to move against The Six, while also fending off his attacks and fortifying our position as he continues to fuck with us.
Logan’s been mapping out all the spots Austin’s been attacking so far, and just like Maddoc predicted, most of them are on the edges of Reaper territory, but he’s also started going after a few of the gangs who’ve allied with us now too. We’ve been tracking anywhere and everywhere that West Point gang members or his mercenaries show up around the city, trying to spot patterns, and so far, nothing useful has come of it. Certainly nothing that we can bring in front of The Six.
Dante pulls my fingers away from my right breast, letting his thumb brush over the bright red of my new tattoo. “Itchy?”
“Not too bad.”
“You should get your mind off it.”
My breath quickens. We’ve all been so damn busy that I haven’t been with any of my men the way I’m craving them for the last few days. At least, not enough to satisfy any of us. But if Dante thinks we have time…
He laughs, low and sexy, and laces our fingers while taking a step backward, toward the door. “Come on. That’s not what I meant this time.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’ve got something to show you,” he says, pulling me out into the hallway and heading for the stairs.
“Is it safe?” I ask, my breath stuttering for a different reason this time. One I fucking hate. “The last attack—”
“Has been fucking dealt with,” he says firmly, cutting me off. Then he blows out a gusty breath and pushes me up against the wall, kissing me deep enough that I manage to stop worrying about it for a moment. “Quit thinking about that shit for a little while, okay?” he murmurs once he finally lets me come up for air. “I’m taking you somewhere safe. We’re not even leaving the house. I just want you to come down to the basement with me.”
The guys all work out religiously in the gym they’ve got set up there, but I haven’t spent much time down there even though I admit it’s a great way to blow off steam. Just not my favorite way.
“Please tell me we’re not doing laundry right now,” I tease him, pretty sure that’s the only other thing they use the basement for outside of the kind of gang business that they’ve kept me out of so far.
“No laundry,” he says, leading me down to the gym. He slides his hands down my hips, pressing himself against my back as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “You might be a little overdressed, though.”
“Feel free to help me with that problem,” I joke-but-not-really, not even noticing that he’s using his grip on my hips to steer me around until I’m facing the far corner. Then I blink as I realize why I’m overdressed.
There’s a stripper pole in the corner.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out, a visceral thrill rolling through my body, a sense memory of something I haven’t even let myself acknowledge I’ve been missing. “Where did that come from?”
“I had it installed for you,” Dante murmurs, letting me go without a fight when I move toward it. “You know I deal with my shit by painting, and I fucking love having you up in my studio, sharing that. But it’s not really your thing, is it? You need to dance.”
“I’ve missed it,” I admit, running my hands up the pole and feeling it like a stroke on my own body.
“I know,” Dante says, his voice full of all the emotions that give me something to fight for. “And I want you to be able to dance anytime you want it. Anytime you fucking need it. Right here at home.”
I don’t know if it’s hearing him calling this my home, which it is, he is, or if it’s how touched I am that he thought to do this for me. That he understands me so well. Whatever it is, he’s right. I do need this, it’s how I’ve always worked out my emotions, and right now, I’m full of them.
I kick my shoes off and wrap a leg around the pole, letting my body weight pull me around it in a move that feels so familiar, so fucking right, that it’s crazy to think I haven’t danced in so long.
Well, it feels almost right. It’s easier to dance with skin to the pole, so after trying out a few moves and shaking off the rust, I strip down to my bra and thong, then keep going.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Dante murmurs from somewhere behind me, breaking through the trance I’ve let myself fall into as I work my body around the pole.
It’s the perfect amount of slick, and sturdy enough to take all my weight without shaking, and when I twist around it, turning my body so I can face him, a hot thrill goes through me at the heat I find waiting in his gaze.
I slide one hand up the pole until my arm is at its full extension, then let myself slowly undulate around the metal as it starts to warm a little from the heat of my body. “This reminds me of the first time I saw you.”
“You remember that?” Dante asks, his voice dropping low and husky in a way I can never help but respond to. “Because I do.”
“I remember the feel of your eyes on me that night.” I let myself turn around the pole again, dropping low and feeling a delicious burn in my thighs as I slowly work myself back up it. I twist to look back at him over my shoulder. “It felt just like this.”
There isn’t any music, but somehow, it feels like there’s a rhythm moving through my body anyway.
I close my eyes and arch my back, rolling my hips as I let it take over; as I let myself enjoy the feel of my hair brushing against the top of my ass while I swing myself around the pole.
I run my hands up my sides to cup my tits and throw my head back with abandon, instinctively using all the moves that used to make me so much money on stage, but this time, dancing purely for myself, the way I’ve always loved best.
Although maybe this time, I’m loving it just a little bit more with the sensual weight of Dante’s eyes on me, too…. and not just his. At some point, a low bass beat starts up, one I feel more than hear at first.
I drag my eyes open, not even sure when I let them drift closed, and find that Maddoc and Logan have joined us.
Having all three of my men watch me dance does something to me that’s completely different than when I used to strip for cash. The air thickens as I feel their heated gazes on me, and I let my body go, dancing out every bit of anger, stress, frustration, and fear that I haven’t had an outlet for. Letting them fuel the other things these men make me feel. Loved and cherished and so fucking aroused that it scents the air and flows through my blood.
None of them try to touch me or join me.
And none of them take their eyes off me, not even for a second.
Pole work has always been my favorite. Sensual and fun and freeing. But nothing has ever turned me on the way their eyes on me do right now. I strip my bra off, making a show of it. A private show, just for them.
I’m tempted to lose my thong too. I want to dance for them naked and then beg them each to fuck me, but as the heat builds between us all, it’s almost too much. I’m so wet that my thighs are slick with it, and my pussy throbs with arousal as I wrap my legs around the pole, forcing me to grind against it in a desperate bid for relief.
I drop low, one hand on the pole and the other running down my body, then slowly work my way back to my feet, rocking against the hard steel between my legs, driven on by the intensity of my men’s expressions and the bass that feels like the beat of my own soul.
All three of them are hard, their thick cocks straining against their pants and their eyes devouring me as I moan, working myself against the pole faster and faster.
I wish it was them.
I need it to be them.
But it’s so fucking hot to give them this show, to see how much my getting myself off turns them on, that I can’t stop. I can’t look away. I can’t help but rub against the rigid pole until I finally fall apart.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp as I start to come, gripping the pole tight and fucking myself against it because it feels too good to ever stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Dante is suddenly right in my face, faster than I even realized he moved.
“Exactly what I was thinking, princess,” he groans before grabbing the back of my head and kissing me hard enough to set off my orgasm all over again.