5. Chapter Five Cam
Chapter Five: Cam
Lakes was hot as hell, grinding against that pole. It's funny. She thought she was the only one keeping tabs on threats, but she didn't realize that anyone who could become a problem for her was already on my radar.
Take this sweaty little fuck sitting right upstage.
His small eyes were fucking her as she slowly stripped off the small cloth covering her nipple tassels.
That was the point, right? To eye fuck the candy.
Except even from here, I could see him rubbing his micro-dick through his pants before he slipped his hand inside them.
No can do.
Lakey was mine to get off to, and this asshole was going to learn a very valuable lesson.
I'd been coming to this club since she started dancing here three years ago. She’d quit SINNERS and found this little joint by accident.
It was nicer than SINNERS and had less drama.
I’d found my spot the first night and claimed it every night since.
Same seat every time. Back corner, facing the stage, one wall behind me and a clear sightline to both exits.
Old habits. The bouncers knew me by name.
The bartender poured my drink the second I walked in.
The regulars knew not to sit in my chair.
The ones who didn't know learned fast.
I wasn't here every night. Just the nights she worked.
I'd sit there, nurse a whiskey, and watch her own a room full of men who'd never be allowed to touch her.
It was the closest thing to peace I ever felt.
Her up there, me down here, and the unspoken knowledge between us that when the music stopped and the lights came up, she was coming home with me. Always with me.
Walking toward him, I leaned down and whispered in his ear.
He craned his neck to look up at me and instantly, his face lost all trace of color.
I couldn't blame him. My name preceded me.
What he didn't know was that I was singularly responsible for most of the men who went missing around this particular club.
"I'd really rethink that if I were you." I smirked. He didn't even utter a word as his hand slowly slid out of his pants.
"Sorry, Mr. Axley. It won't happen again."
"Good choice," I said, patting him on the shoulder before sauntering back to my seat. "And maybe consider leaving her a large tip. And I don't mean that in the ha ha take the tip kind of way. A real, monetary tip."
"Y-yes, sir." His hand shook as he fished out his wallet and threw hundreds at her.
Lakey caught my eye and winked, as if she knew what just happened.
She moved her hips like they were boneless, spreading her legs as she bounced on the ground.
She was so fluid. So perfect. For a moment, I was enraptured by her.
It happened often enough, but tonight, she was truly spectacular, leaving her whole soul out there on the stage.
That's the mystery that was Lakey Aldrich, my beautiful angel wrapped in a psychotic package.
This was the only part of her I had to share with anyone, and I fucking hated it.
It was only because she needed it that she danced.
Not for the money, though that helped. The control.
Up on that stage, every man in the room wanted her and not a single one of them could have her.
She got to be desired and untouchable at the same time, and for a girl who'd spent her childhood being touched by people who had no right to, that was the point.
She was reclaiming something up there. I wasn't stupid enough to take that from her.
Didn't mean I had to enjoy watching other men drool while she did it.
The music stopped, signaling the end of her act. As the crowd cheered and threw money at her feet, she picked the bills up and then sauntered off stage and joined me at the table. "So..." She leaned in to kiss me before sitting down next to me. "You come here to intimidate my clientele, babe?"
"You know I'm always around." I pulled her onto my lap. "No one touches what's mine."
"He wasn't touching me."
I nipped her ear, sliding my hand down her body before fiddling with her skimpy underwear. "Nah, but he was touching himself to you and that's something I don't want to see. He can go to the bathroom. It's fucking gross."
She groaned, squirming on my lap as I slipped into her underwear. "Stop squirming, Lakes, or I won't let you come."
She gasped, her eyes going wide. "You wouldn't dare."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"
Shaking her head, she immediately settled. Her chest rising and falling as I continued my slow torture, circling my fingers around her pussy before plunging inside her.
"Oh god, Cam," she moaned, her nails digging into my forearms. "M-maybe we sh-shouldn't do this here."
"Says the girl who just danced naked in front of a hundred men." I smirked, but I relented, withdrawing my hand and fixing my pants. "Let's get you home. You look like you need to... unwind." I winked at her.
She sighed in regret. "Ugh, maybe just finish what you started at least."
I crossed my arms over her body, kissing her neck. "Yeah? You wanna show these old pervs what you look like when I make you cum?" I lifted her and stood. "I don't think so."
"God, Cam! You're so confusing. You're the one that started it!"
"Don't you dare throw a tantrum here, Lakey. Get your ass backstage and put clothes on. I'll finish what I started at home."
I chuckled as she stomped off. She was right, of course. I did start it, and I was going to finish it. But then I’d have to gouge the eyes out of anyone who saw her orgasm and I just didn't feel like doing that right now.
Plus, I really wanted to get her home and naked.
I paid the bartender for my drink and made my way backstage, where I knew Lakey would be furiously throwing her clothes on and muttering under her breath. I loved when she was feisty.
The backstage hallway smelled like cheap perfume, hairspray, and something vaguely medicinal.
The other dancers were scattered around in various states of undress, and a few of them nodded at me as I passed.
They knew the deal. Cam picks up Lakey. Lakey goes home with Cam.
Nobody asks questions about the men who occasionally stopped showing up after getting too handsy because I protected them too.
Knocking on her door, she opened it with a scowl.
"What? Come to tease me some more?"
"Come here, baby girl." I pulled her in for a kiss. "I don't want everyone to see you like that, and I shouldn't have started it in the first place, but I'll make it up to you when we get home."
"Fine, but I want steak tonight. I made over a grand, so rent is paid for, and I deserve a treat for that performance."
"Done." She'd earned it. She always did. Lakey worked harder than anyone I knew, and she did it in six-inch heels while carrying enough trauma to fill a psych ward.
We walked out of the building, her arm looped through mine as we headed towards my bike. "Oh, and Cam?"
"Hm?"
"I love you," she said.
"I know," I said, getting on and waiting to hand her her helmet. "You too, psycho."
Once she was settled in and holding me, I started towards the butcher shop.
Only the finest cuts for my baby. I found parking easily, given it was late as fuck.
Usually, shops would be shut down at three a.m. but not this one.
Phil stayed open late on weekends for this exact reason.
He found a little gold mine in strippers heading home and wanting protein. Said it was his best time of the week.
We walked in and greeted him, picking the best rib eye he had in his display, along with those little premade stuffed mushrooms and some baked potatoes.
As we picked, the bell sounded and in walked a long-legged brunette.
I noticed her the way I noticed anyone who entered a room.
Threat assessment first. Everything else second.
She noticed me too. Her eyes dragged from my boots to my face and stayed there, a slow smile spreading before she licked her lips.
Lakey went rigid beside me. I didn't even have to look down.
I could feel the shift in her body the way you feel a dog's hackles go up when something walks too close to the yard.
"Cam." Her voice was quiet, which meant she was about three seconds from snapping.
"Yeah, babe?"
"You know I'd kill for you, right?"
"I know, Lakes. I know." I put my hand on the back of her neck and squeezed, the way I always did when she needed anchoring. I'm here. You're mine. Settle.
The brunette was still looking. Bold. Stupid, but bold. She took a step closer, angling herself between us and the counter, and Lakey tracked the movement with the focus of someone deciding where to make the first cut.
"You two together?" The brunette asked, her eyes on me. Not on Lakey. Mistake.
"Does it look like we're together?" Lakey's voice was sugar. Pure, crystallized sugar with a razor blade in the center. She stepped forward, putting herself between me and the brunette, and smiled up at her. The height difference was significant. The threat level was not.
The brunette's smile faltered. Good instincts. Not good enough to make her leave, but good enough to make her take a step back.
"Aw, that's cute." The brunette recovered, looking past Lakey at me. "She's protective."
"She's not protective." I pulled Lakey back against me, wrapping my arms around her waist before she could lunge. I could feel her heart hammering against my forearm. "She's possessive, and if you value the structural integrity of your face, I'd stop ogling at me."
The brunette blinked. Looked at Lakey. Looked at me. Looked at my arms locked around Lakey's body and the expression on my girl's face that said I will follow you home and you will not enjoy what happens next.
"Right. Okay." She turned to Phil. "Just the chicken, please."
"Smart girl," Lakey muttered.
Phil, bless him, had seen enough of our shit over the years that he didn't even flinch. "Here's your stuff, that's $57.50."