He’d have to settle for the next
best thing. “Come over here and give me a lap dance, and it better
be good.”
Twyla’s movements stuttered then stopped. “I
can’t do that,” she said in a raw voice. Ryan refused to look at
her eyes, because he knew he’d find tears there again.
“ Oh, yeah you can. I know you
probably do that at the bar for tips too. You’d have done it at
that party.” He finally dragged his eyes to hers. “I paid you a
thousand bucks, and you’re going to give me a fucking lap dance.
And it better be a good one, Twyla. The best one I’ve ever had, or
I’m calling Granny.”
Ryan stood and shoved his jeans and underwear
down, he toed off his boots, then stepped out of the jeans. When he
stood back up, Twyla was staring at his engorged dick, gnawing her
lower lip. Her chest heaved with her breaths, and her fists were
curled at her sides. Ryan fisted himself then sat back on the
couch. He didn’t want to see her face while she did this, and he
didn’t want her to see him come. It would be too weird. And he knew
he was going to come when he imagined himself sliding up into her
tight, wet heat, as her hips moved over him while she
danced.
He was almost there already.
“ Turn around and show me your ass.
Bend over when you dance like you did at the bar. I want to see
your wet pussy.”
Her eyes flew to his. “Stop being vulgar! I am
not doing that!” she said, her tone rising an octave with each
word.
Ryan shrugged with a helluva lot more
nonchalance than he was feeling. “Won’t be anything I haven’t seen,
Twyla, and you’re a pro at this remember? I could almost see the
goodies at that bar in those shorts anyway.”
“ I am a dancer, not a stripper or
whore!” she shouted, then held out her hand. “I’m not letting you
treat me this way! Give me your damned phone and I’ll call Zack and
tell him!”
“ Dancer, stripper, whore. Half a
dozen of one or six of the other,” he replied calmly meeting her
angry gaze. “I don’t think your family would like to hear that
you’re doing any of them,” he challenged, and sat his phone on the
sofa beside him. “What do you think?”
Her face fell, and she looked down at her
hands, which were now twisting in front of her.
“ You think they’d be proud of what
you’re doing here, Twy?” he repeated, wanting her to admit what she
was doing was wrong. “Are you proud of yourself?”
A big fat teardrop landed on her hands
followed by another, then it was raining on her hands, and her body
shook violently. He thought her knees might give out she was
shaking so hard, so he pulled her to him and onto his lap. His arms
closed around her and she buried her face in his shoulder. It
wasn’t long before her tears soaked his shirt. He held her tight
and rocked her, until the tremors became intermittent, then he
kissed her hair. Guilt swamped him, when she whimpered. “I’m sorry,
baby. I didn’t mean to talk to you like that…but you needed to
see.”
She sat up and dragged in a shuddering breath,
then scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and came away
with black streaks. “You are a bastard,” she ground out, then
pushed off of his lap. She started to walk off toward the bathroom,
but he grabbed her wrist.
“ I won’t argue with you there. I
have been a bastard for years, and that’s not likely to change.
You, however, are not a whore, honey.”
“ I’m not going to dance forever.
Just until I get enough money to buy my guns and tack.”
Ryan stood, then gently took her shoulders to
turn her to face him. Her face was a mess, black streaks tracked to
the corners of her mouth, which was swollen from her gnawing. “What
the hell do you need guns for? And what were you doing out there
with that cowboy today?”
Her eyes dropped to his throat. “Learning to
do cowboy mounted shooting. Randy is a world champion shooter, he’s
teaching me. That is what I want to be doing.”
“ Well, Randy wants to be
best thing. “Come over here and give me a lap dance, and it better
be good.”
Twyla’s movements stuttered then stopped. “I
can’t do that,” she said in a raw voice. Ryan refused to look at
her eyes, because he knew he’d find tears there again.
“ Oh, yeah you can. I know you
probably do that at the bar for tips too. You’d have done it at
that party.” He finally dragged his eyes to hers. “I paid you a
thousand bucks, and you’re going to give me a fucking lap dance.
And it better be a good one, Twyla. The best one I’ve ever had, or
I’m calling Granny.”
Ryan stood and shoved his jeans and underwear
down, he toed off his boots, then stepped out of the jeans. When he
stood back up, Twyla was staring at his engorged dick, gnawing her
lower lip. Her chest heaved with her breaths, and her fists were
curled at her sides. Ryan fisted himself then sat back on the
couch. He didn’t want to see her face while she did this, and he
didn’t want her to see him come. It would be too weird. And he knew
he was going to come when he imagined himself sliding up into her
tight, wet heat, as her hips moved over him while she
danced.
He was almost there already.
“ Turn around and show me your ass.
Bend over when you dance like you did at the bar. I want to see
your wet pussy.”
Her eyes flew to his. “Stop being vulgar! I am
not doing that!” she said, her tone rising an octave with each
word.
Ryan shrugged with a helluva lot more
nonchalance than he was feeling. “Won’t be anything I haven’t seen,
Twyla, and you’re a pro at this remember? I could almost see the
goodies at that bar in those shorts anyway.”
“ I am a dancer, not a stripper or
whore!” she shouted, then held out her hand. “I’m not letting you
treat me this way! Give me your damned phone and I’ll call Zack and
tell him!”
“ Dancer, stripper, whore. Half a
dozen of one or six of the other,” he replied calmly meeting her
angry gaze. “I don’t think your family would like to hear that
you’re doing any of them,” he challenged, and sat his phone on the
sofa beside him. “What do you think?”
Her face fell, and she looked down at her
hands, which were now twisting in front of her.
“ You think they’d be proud of what
you’re doing here, Twy?” he repeated, wanting her to admit what she
was doing was wrong. “Are you proud of yourself?”
A big fat teardrop landed on her hands
followed by another, then it was raining on her hands, and her body
shook violently. He thought her knees might give out she was
shaking so hard, so he pulled her to him and onto his lap. His arms
closed around her and she buried her face in his shoulder. It
wasn’t long before her tears soaked his shirt. He held her tight
and rocked her, until the tremors became intermittent, then he
kissed her hair. Guilt swamped him, when she whimpered. “I’m sorry,
baby. I didn’t mean to talk to you like that…but you needed to
see.”
She sat up and dragged in a shuddering breath,
then scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and came away
with black streaks. “You are a bastard,” she ground out, then
pushed off of his lap. She started to walk off toward the bathroom,
but he grabbed her wrist.
“ I won’t argue with you there. I
have been a bastard for years, and that’s not likely to change.
You, however, are not a whore, honey.”
“ I’m not going to dance forever.
Just until I get enough money to buy my guns and tack.”
Ryan stood, then gently took her shoulders to
turn her to face him. Her face was a mess, black streaks tracked to
the corners of her mouth, which was swollen from her gnawing. “What
the hell do you need guns for? And what were you doing out there
with that cowboy today?”
Her eyes dropped to his throat. “Learning to
do cowboy mounted shooting. Randy is a world champion shooter, he’s
teaching me. That is what I want to be doing.”
“ Well, Randy wants to be
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