Hard Core (Hard As Nails Book 3) by Hope Conrad Page A

passes, I think about jumping out of my seat and taking hold of her the way I want to take hold of her. To have my way with her the way I want to have my way with her. To fuck her against the mirrors lining the studio walls.
    She grabs a fistful of her hair and sighs once more, before settling on an answer. “Fine,” she groans. “You win.”
    “I win?” I question rhetorically and grin a cocky grin, full of confidence and cockiness. “Dance for me, Angel. And then maybe we can both be winners.”
     

Chapter Sixteen
     
     
    Alyssa
     
    I try to remember my training as I’m bent over in front of him, taunting him with my ass as I scroll through my phone and select a song. Once I’ve settled on the most fitting choice, a slow-burning R&B number that bursts with a seductive chorus, the music begins to permeate the room from the overhead speakers.
    I straighten myself and step to the light switch located behind the chair Axel is seated in.
    “Why do you have to turn the light off?”
    I crane my head to face his direction and see a soft glow painted over my face in the mirror across the way. There’s enough light streaming from the ceiling so that he can see me, but it’s dark enough that I can pretend he can’t.
    I don’t give him a verbal answer to his question, because he doesn’t need it. The show I’m about to put on for him should be enough so that he no longer needs to ask any more questions.
    I pace until I’m standing behind his chair and swing one hand around his body, and caress his smooth chest with my palm. He quivers under my touch, and it’s not a sensation I’m used to when it comes to him. It’s usually me quivering, shaking, exploding under his touch. Not even a minute into this dance, and I’m already reveling in the control—the power—I have over him.
    I hunch over his shoulder and whisper against his ear. “Are you ready, Axe?”
    He swallows a nervous lump in his throat, and I can’t help but wonder why . If anyone should be nervous, it’s me.
    I am. Incredibly nervous, and I’m only dancing for him, not an entire crowd. But in many ways, I feel like dancing for him is far worse. There are more expectations here. The stakes are higher.
    I level a hand against his shoulder as I spin around the chair and back my ass against the pole. I sway against the steel, my body rotating on the axis of my hips as I hook my finger into my shorts.
    His eyes freeze on me as I glide out of the shorts and they pool on the floor. I kick them away, and stand before him in my bra and panties. I’m more than vulnerable. I’m scared and shaking. If I can’t dance for him, how am I going to dance for anyone else?
    I take a moment to breathe, to remember why I’m doing this. I take a moment to give myself the push I need to continue on, and reason with myself that practicing for Axel is the very best thing I can do if I’m ever going to get on that damn stage.
    He sees me frozen before him and hooks his finger toward me, beckoning for me to approach.
    I do as commanded, clumsily stepping toward him until I’m standing between his parted knees. It’s here that I lose my nerve, and freeze again. This is not going as planned.
    He gives me a bit of a boost, reaching behind my back and pulling me down onto his lap in a straddling position.
    “I don’t think this is how this is supposed to work,” I whisper nervously, but am unsure if he can hear me over the music.
    “Dance,” he commands, and I’m still unsure if he heard me. It doesn’t matter. I buck against him, my panties scratching against the denim of his jeans. Through the denim, I can feel his hard cock and I crave to be filled, if for no other reason than fucking is so much easier on the nerves than dancing.
    “You’re so fucking sexy,” he purrs against my heaving chest and rises to stand, picking me up with his strong arms. He carries me to the pole, where my back is greeted by the cold metal.
    I’m torn between the extremes of his