Chapter 9 Tessa
Tessa
Staring out into the gray evening sky, my mind drifted as my bodyguard drove me to my next scheduled event.
I was still chasing the high of my win from the award ceremony, with flowers showing up at my doorstep almost every hour on the hour, commending me on yet another landslide victory.
But I knew all too well that once that hype train ran its course, I’d be right back to where I was before. Looking for another reason to be talked about—in a good way, that is—and doted on, to keep my intrusive thoughts at bay.
While the world still saw me as America’s Sweetheart, I was slowly dissolving into someone else—a woman who couldn’t tell the difference between right and wrong.
Theodore may have kept me straight for all the years he’d worked for me, but now that he was gone, I was over squeezing my ass into a mold that I had outgrown years ago. I was done being nice all the time, and tonight I’ll continue my rebellion by indulging in an evening of sinful entertainment.
“Miss Bradley, we’re here,” Alex announced over his shoulder from the driver’s seat once we’d stopped in front of the venue. His dark sunglasses and slicked-back hair made him look more like a young Men In Black agent than my bodyguard—he really made it difficult to take him seriously at times.
Outside my window, I could see the line wrapped around the building with hundreds of women waiting to enter the sold-out show at Varsity Theater.
Temptations—here on the first leg of their nationwide tour, straight from the scorching desert of Las Vegas; the hottest eye candy a girl could ask for, and I wanted a piece all to myself.
“Let’s not keep the boys waiting, shall we?” I bit the corner of my lip, pushing my problems to the back of my mind and focusing on the present. Tonight was about me.
With my entourage of eight arriving in a separate limousine, we made our way to the main entrance. The bouncers didn’t hesitate, knowing exactly who I was as we approached the double doors, opening them to allow us inside.
Anticipating our arrival, Erica made a direct beeline to our group from the box office, meeting us in the center of the room. She handled the venue’s VIP services, and she was clearly eager to earn her highest commission of the evening.
“The birthday girl has arrived! Welcome, Miss Bradley!” She swooned, clapping and snapping her fingers at random staff members who were milling around the lobby, waiting for the doors to open.
“Your booth is ready, right beside the edge of the stage as requested. I’ll escort you there now if you’re ready, yes? ”
“Please. And could we get—”
“Already at the table and waiting on ice for you.”
“Then by all means, lead the way!” I beamed, appreciating the attention to detail and how well Erica understood my needs–or at least my love of champagne.
This venue was used for a wide variety of events, ranging from concerts to corporate gatherings–even weddings, anything that required a vast, open space.
However, tonight, rows of black folding chairs were lined up on the left and right sides of the room, all seats assigned at the time of ticket purchase.
Hanging from the ceiling was a massive crystal chandelier. The refracted lights rippled along the bright red walls trimmed with metallic gold crown molding, and tasseled suede drapes in a deeper shade of crimson, reminiscent of the Victorian era.
As we approached the front of the theater, Erica escorted us into our sectioned-off booth, promptly reached for the chilled bottle, and popped the cork. She handed me the glass, filled to the brim, and I immediately took a long sip, the bubbles tickling my nose as I drank.
A couple more of these and I’ll be loose enough to have the best night of my life—hopefully fuck a man in the process.
Erica checked her watch after placing the bottle back into the ice bin and then urgently stepped out of the booth.
“Doors are about to open. I have to head up front and make sure everything runs smoothly. Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.
I’ll be back to check in and refill your champagne before the show begins.
” With a curt nod, she departed for the main entrance, and I fell back onto the chaise lounge, elevating my legs while finishing my first glass of what I hoped would be many.
Seats filled quickly, and it wasn’t long before four more bottles were dropped off at our table.
For the last few minutes, my girls and I were busy taking pictures and posting them all over our social media right up until the lights turned low, the stage glowed red, and the entire theater erupted with high-pitched screams and shrieks to the start of “Bad Girl” by USHER.
Smoke flowed across the stage, billowing out as the curtains were pulled and seven men strutted toward the audience in a V formation.
Relaxed fit denim jeans, black leather belts, white tank tops, their signature black and white wrist cuffs, and bow tie collars… holy fuck. The uplighting accentuated every muscular curve of their bodies, with slicked biceps—oiled up and begging for hands to run all over them.
Reaching the front of the stage, they formed a straight line, every dancer on full display as they rolled their hips and moved with the music.
Take it off, take it off, take it all fucking off!
On the outside, I was as composed as ever, sipping my champagne to keep my mouth from hanging open and drooling like a dog.
But inside my body was screaming, ovaries set to rupture as the dancers spun three-sixty and tore their tank tops directly down the middle, revealing the goods that we all paid good money to see.
One man in particular caught my eye. The lead dancer was the center of attention, with his short blond hair, bright blue eyes, strong cut jaw—and let’s not forget his delicious fucking abs. He was absolute perfection, and I felt the feral urge to run my tongue along every square inch of him.
I could see why they called themselves Temptations. Because he sure as fuck was the embodiment of one.
I didn’t need to know him on a first-name basis.
I always got what I wanted, and right now, that was him, right between my thighs.
That dancer was all mine—at least for this evening.
The audience watched, captivated by strong hands trailing down chiseled pectorals and abs, fingers pausing mid-descent to unbuckle their belts before effortlessly ripping them from their waists and then wrapping the bright white leather around their palms like restraints.
Dirty, delightful fantasies flooded my mind at the glorious sight.
With a quick flick of their wrists, all seven performers cracked their belts on the stage like whips before taking off like the members of a boy band, sliding over the edge and into the audience, who were all jumping and shrieking for their attention.
Catching sight of the man I had been eying, I downed what remained of my fifth glass and sashayed out of my booth, intercepting him just as he was about to approach a woman seated on the aisle of the second row.
Subtle wasn’t a word in my vocabulary, and with the amount of liquid courage in my system, being forward was not only my approach, but the direction I was heading with him.
I interrupted Mister Tall, Blond, and Gorgeous, possessively tugging on the waistband of his jeans before forcing him down into the nearest empty seat, straddling his strong thighs and gripping his chin between my fingers to get a good look at the man I had undoubtedly claimed.
My mystery man smirked up at me with wild blue eyes as he wound the leather belt tighter around his palm. There was something about him that called to the darker parts of me, and it wasn’t just sexual desire.
The dancer lifted me by my thighs, abruptly switching our positions as he gracefully lowered me into the chair.
His palm, enveloping me in the strong scent of leather, caressed my collarbone before slowly finding its way up the side of my neck.
Flowing with the upward motion of his hand, he used the pad of his thumb to press against the base of my chin, tilting my head back and to the side to expose more of me to him.
Bending further down, he leaned in close to my ear, my heart fluttering against my chest as I tracked his movements through the corner of my eye.
Here I was, fully convinced that I had this man right where I wanted him, and yet I now found myself silently begging for him to take me in every way imaginable. I was at his fucking mercy.
“Looking to play tonight, princess?” He murmured against my skin, his breath kissing the side of my neck as he rolled his body along my lap. “We can play. I’ll even let you burn me if you’re a good girl—put that fierce fire of yours out with my tongue.”
I swallowed hard, my body trembling with need and an obsessive desire for more. He had rendered me speechless with his actions and those filthy fucking words.
I’ve yet to find a man who didn’t fear dominance, constantly bending to my will instead of putting me in my place.
There was a thrill in being brought to submission, and after so many years of always getting my way and holding power over others, it was exhilarating to be on the receiving end for once.
The dancer backed himself off my lap, towering over me at his full height—at least six-foot-one to my five-foot-four frame. His baby blues held me hostage for just a moment longer before releasing me with a flirtatious wink as he licked his lips in what appeared to be approval.
“I’ll take that gleam in your pretty eyes as a yes. Keep my seat warm, princess. I’ll be back for you later—and that’s a promise.”
And before I knew it, my prince charming was back on stage with the rest of the dancers, wrapping up their opening number.
Within seconds, I had turned from dominating to putty in his palm.
What else could this man do to me?