Chapter 4

The music dipped, a brief lull between acts. The stage stood bare for a heartbeat, the crowd’s attention fractured by drinks and murmurs, the performers taking a moment to breathe. A red haze hung over everything, like lust-soaked fog.

  I stood on the edge of the dance floor, swaying slightly from the alcohol still coiling in my veins. so this is what I have been missing, I had refused Mala's invitation to the club on several occasions because of my loyalty to my dickhead ex boyfriend Zavier.

  My body pulsed. My skin tingled. Every breath I took felt thick and tight, like I was inhaling the air off someone’s mouth.

  I giggled drunkenly.

  The dancers had been incredible, perfect bodies, honed routines, practiced sensuality, but something primal stirred in me. Something reckless. Something that whispered: You’re more than just a watcher.

  I looked at the empty stage, it called out to me and...

  I didn’t decide. I moved.

  One step. Then another.

  The heels Mala loaned me clicked against the steps, I staggered towards the stage with a smile plastered to my face, no one stopped me. No one even noticed until I reached the top and wrapped a hand around the cool metal of the stripper pole.

  A spotlight found me, as if fate had been waiting. had it?

  I froze.

  The room went silent. The music slowed, then shifted into something darker. A sultry, hypnotic beat, slow drums, a creeping bassline that sank into my bones. I clutched the pole tighter.

  My heart banged against my ribs. I could feel eyes, Hundreds of them on me

  Fuck, I loved the attention 

  I should’ve gotten down.

  But then something uncoiled inside me deep and hungry, I did not get down from the stage, instead I tilted my head. Rolled my hips, felt the fabric of my dress strain across my thighs. The burn of attention ignited something I didn’t know existed.

  I slid one hand up the pole, mimicking what I’d seem the strippers doing. Not perfect. Not polished. Just mine.

  And the crowd roared.

  Men whistled. Women clapped. A group of strippers near the corner whooped, slapping the bar in encouragement.

  I arched my back, feeling the sway of my breasts under the tight fabric. I gripped the pole and spun, awkward at first, but the rhythm caught me. My thighs wrapped the metal. My hair whipped as I moved. Heat pooled between my legs—whether from the movement, the attention, or the rhythm pounding through my body, I didn’t know, but I swayed, dancing to the tune like I had done this all my life

  I let go.

  I let go.

  And they watched.

  My skin was liquid fire. My body moved with a freedom I didn’t understand, hips grinding, hands trailing down the curves of my waist. I lifted a leg around the pole and twirled—badly, but boldly.

  Money rained from above. Crumpled bills, tossed like adoration. They loved me, the sly smile still plastered on my face.

  My cheeks burned, but I didn’t stop.

  I couldn’t.

  Above the stage, hidden behind tinted glass, a different kind of hunger stirred.

  Kyl Ronald leaned forward in his seat, his glass of scotch untouched.

  His storm gray eyes, sharp as broken glass were fixed on me. On my hips. On the way my breasts bounced with every reckless spin. 

  He was dressed in black Tailored perfectly, silk shirt undone just enough to hint at the muscular chest underneath. The tattoos curled over the edge of his collar.

  Next to him, his bodyguard, massive, bald, and silent stood like a statue.

  “She’s not on the schedule,” the man said, glancing down at a digital tablet.

  “Is she a new dancer?” Kyl asked, biting down on his lips .

 "I think so boss"

  His voice was low, but thick like smoke.

  He didn’t blink.

  He didn’t move.

  But inside him, something snapped.

  He had been bored night, the perfectly submissive girls, the choreographed scenes, it all paled to nothing in the wake of her.

  She was chaos and innocence. Lust and defiance. Her movements untrained, but her body…

  Curves like a painting.

  Breasts full, swaying.

  Eyes bright and unaware of their power.

  A virgin flame in a den of wolves.

  Kyl adjusted his pants subtly. His cock was already half-hard, twitching with the promise of what he could do with her.

  To her.

  She didn’t know it yet—but she was his.

  He leaned toward the bodyguard.

  “Bring her to me.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me. Now.”

  The bodyguard nodded and vanished from the shadows.

  Back on stage, I’d dropped to my knees head thrown back, hands trailing up my . My dress had hiked up, baring smooth skin. The crowd was losing its mind.

  I laughed completely drunk, alive, full of dangerous heat. My hair stuck to the back of my neck.

  It was the happiest I had felt in years.

  I didn’t see the man approach the side of the stage.

  I didn’t see the sleek black earpiece or the way the dancers subtly backed away.

  I just felt the heavy hand on my arm.

  “Miss,” he said, deep and calm, “you’re wanted upstairs.”

  I blinked.

  “What?”

  He smiled. Not cruel, not kind. Just knowing.

  “You’ve caught someone’s eye.”

  A dozen scenarios raced through my head was I in trouble? Was this part of the act?

  Before I could protest, Mala appeared out of the crowd, grinning.

  “Holy shit, Ivy! That was insane! Who are you?”

  I stumbled off the stage into her arms, laughing and dizzy.

  The bodyguard waited patiently.

  “He wants to meet you,” he said again.

  “Who?” I slurred.

  Mala’s eyes widened as she spotted the direction he pointed.

  “Up there? That’s the private lounge,” she whispered. “Only the big shots get in there. That’s . ..... oh my god, Ivy. That’s Kyl Ronald.”

  “The CEO guy?”

  She nodded. “Filthy rich, and dangerously hot. Rumors say he’s into… weird shit. Like, real Fifty Shades type stuff.”

  My breath caught.

  I looked up.

  And through the glass, those eyes met mine.

  Sharp. Gray. Hungry.

  A pulse of something shot through me.

  I looked at Mala.

  “I’m going,” I said.

  She blinked. “Wait....what?”

  “I’m going up.”

  And then I was, I didn't think twice, I was ready to get rid of my virginity tonight, and who better than the hot stud CEO.

  One step at a time, toward the shadows, toward the wolf I went.