CHAPTER 7

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” she hissed, stepping up so close I could smell her perfume mixed with that post-dick sweat and straight-up sex glow.

I locked eyes with her ass, chin high as fuck. Prison taught me never to fold for no basic-ass hoe like her.

Her lips twisted into that signature sneer, but her sneaky-ass eyes dipped right down to the envelope poking outta my cleavage like she already knew what time it was.

“Ryan doesn’t ask newbies for dances. He watches first. And you—” She popped a finger at my chest, stopping just short.

“You stroll in here all loud and cocky, legs open like you that girl? Chill out, Emily. This place will chew a girl like you up and spit you right back out. Don’t say nobody warned you.”

Jealousy was fucking dripping off every damn word she said. The girl knew him and real close, the kind that leaves scratches and secrets. Just stepped out of his office? Fucked him quick and dirty, got hers, then sent my ass in to play cleanup? The thought snaked through me, low and nasty, seeing her bent over that desk while she took what I’d only been dangling like bait. Wicked shit.

“Whatever,” I said, voice straight ice, no shake. “Message fucking received.”

Vicky sucked her teeth hard, spun on her heel, and stalked back to the bar. Hips swaying like she still ran shit. But I caught that tight-ass grip on her shoulders and the tension of a bitch who just got slapped with the reality that she ain’t the only one who can take his attention.

I lingered in the hallway a second longer, chest rising fast, nipples still tight and aching against the thin fabric, clit throbbing with every damn step like it had its own heartbeat. The dance with Ryan had me lit up, Vicky’s bullshit only poured gasoline on it. I needed air, a stiff drink, or something, anything to kill this edge before I combusted.

I pushed through that “Staff Only” door and slipped into the narrow back hallway. Darker back here, away from all the lights—storage rooms, quick-change spots, corners where shit go down with no cameras, no snitches.

Then I heard it. Low, nasty moans. Wet skin slapping hard. A chick gasping and breaking from that dark corner right around the bend.

I knew I shouldn’t look. Should’ve turned my ass around. But after Ryan eye-fucked me on the floor and Vicky tried to act like she still owned that dick, my whole damn body was on fucking fire, reckless as hell. Curiosity and straight-up horniness dragged me forward, heels quiet on the concrete.

I eased up and peeked.

There in the shadows, pressed against the brick, was Lana—the redhead stripper from the stage. Sequined thong tossed on the dirty floor. Skirt bunched at her waist, ass popped out, cheeks jiggling every time he slammed in.

Behind her, some suited-up john in his forties, wedding ring flashing, pants at his ankles—had his dick buried balls-deep in her pussy. He was pounding her like he paid for the whole damn club, hips snapping rough, making her body jump.

One hand gripped her hip tight enough to bruise, the other yanked her red hair back so her throat stretched and every moan came out loud and shameless—high, wrecked, thirsty.

“Fuck yes… harder,” she gasped, hands slapping the wall.

He growled some dirty shit I couldn’t catch, then drove in deeper, making her yelp sharp. Her fake boobs swung heavy, nipples scraping brick. Sweat dripped down her back, thighs shaking, pussy gripping his dick so tight I could see it wet, swollen, swallowing every thick inch like she was starving.

My breath caught. Heat rushed straight to my pussy, clit throbbing hard, nipples poking through my dress begging to be touched. Watching them go at it raw with no shame, no audience but me, it lit something wild in my gut. Part of me wanted to dip. The wetter part said stay and let it feed the fire Ryan already started.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted. “Take this dick, you dirty slut. Pussy so tight and milking me like you get paid for it.”

Lana threw it back, ass rippling. “Harder, baby stretch this pussy right there, fuck!”

I stood frozen in the dark, but my body ain’t listen. Heat flooded my core, pussy clenching on nothing while I watched his veiny dick slide in and out, shiny with her juices. Big, red, stretching her shaved lips wide.

Slick and cum dripped down her thighs, pooling on the floor. She reached down, rubbing her fat clit fast, boobs bouncing out her top, nipples hard as rocks.

He smacked her ass hard—red handprint blooming. “You love this, huh? Getting fucked like a whore back here while your girls dance up front.”

He pulled out slow, fat head teasing her hole, then slammed back in deep. “Beg.”

“Please fuck me harder! Fill my pussy, breed this slut!”

My breath hitched. Fuck morals. Hand slid under my dress on its own. Fingers dove into my bare, dripping pussy with no panties, just slick running down my thighs. Wetter than I have been since before prison. Clit fat and throbbing, I rubbed slow circles first, then matched their rhythm with every fucking thrust he gave her, I fucked myself deeper, wet sounds lining up with theirs.

Prison was sneaky bullshit—quick finger-fucks in the showers, guilty rubs under the blanket. Quiet. Ashamed. This? Real dick tearing up real pussy right in front of me. Raw. Animal. No sorrys. It set me on fire. Feral. Starving.

He flipped her like she was light. Lifted one leg over his shoulder, pinned her to the wall. Her pussy gaped open a second—pink, puffy, wrecked, dripping then he slammed back in, balls-deep. Hips grinding nasty, pubic bone crushing her clit every stroke.

“Look at me while I wreck this pussy,” he growled, hand wrapping her throat. Squeezed just enough for her eyes to flutter, gasping like she loved it.

Lana head fell back, eyes rolling, mouth wide. “Choke me—fuck yes—pound my hole! I’ma come all over that dick and make me squirt, daddy, ruin me!”

Her words slapped me. Fingers plunged deeper, curling hard on that spot, thumb grinding my clit fast. Watching her get choked and railed—leg high, pussy leaking…had me shaking. Knees weak, breath short, pussy squeezing my fingers like it was mad it wasn’t getting the real thing.

I ain’t look away. Ain’t stop. Just stood in the shadows fingering myself stupid to their nasty show, heat building till I felt like I’d blow.

This wasn’t watching no more. This was me taking what the fuck I wanted, the pleasure, power, zero shame. Every drop.

I bit my lip to kill the moan. Two fingers deep in my pussy now, curling, hitting that spot. Thumb on my clit, wet sounds matching theirs. Boobs heaving, nipples scraping fabric. I pinched one hard, picturing Ryan’s mouth and teeth biting while he fucked me stupid.

He sped up, balls slapping her ass wet. “Gonna fill you—take this load, you cum-hungry bitch!”

She busted first with her body shaking, pussy spasming, squirting hard with every thrust. “Yes—coming—fuck, I’m squirting!”

He roared, buried deep, hips jerking as he pumped her full. Cum leaked out, dripping down his dick, splashing the floor. They stayed locked, panting, his dick twitching inside her.

My nut hit like a truck—walls clamping my fingers, juice soaking my hand, thighs shaking. I leaned on the wall, biting my fist quiet, pleasure slamming through me wave after wave. Filthy. Intense. Coming while strangers fucked like animals.

They pulled apart slow. Lana fixed her skirt, wiped cum off her thighs, smirking. “Five hundred extra, handsome.”

He zipped up, tossed bills at her feet. “Worth it.”

They dipped opposite ways, leaving just the heavy smell of sex.

I pulled my fingers out slow, slick and shaking. Sucked ’em clean—salty, tangy, all me. Body still buzzing, but that greedy ache? Still there. Still hungry.

I turned to bounce.

And there he was.

Ryan.

Leaning on the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like he caught the whole damn show. Dark. Hungry. No shock. No judgment. Just waiting.

Fuck.

Heart slamming. Fresh heat hit my core. He ain’t say shit. Didn’t need to. That look said he saw me finger-fuck myself raw to strangers. Saw me bust in the shadows like a needy slut.