But I don’t move. I sit there as she lets the bra fall down her arms then tosses it away.
Fuck.
So fucking perfect
. Full tits with dusky pink nipples standing at attention, puckered and begging for my mouth.
She reaches up to touch them, pinching them between her fingers, and I’m done.
I lose it. I come completely unhinged.
Mine.
The one word is all that’s echoing through my head. All I can focus on as I propel myself out of the booth and toward the stairs that lead backstage.
I push past the bouncer, not giving a damn that he’s fucking intimidating.
My purpose is set, and nothing will stop me until I get to her.
Poppy.
My stepsister.
Poppy
One minute I’m doing my job, trying hard to hide in the recesses of my mind, to not be an active participant in what I’m doing. Stripping.
The next minute I’m gasping as I’m ripped from the stage in nothing but my panties. If they can even be called that.
My eyes go wide in terror. I don’t know who has me or what they’re doing, but all I do is search desperately for the security guard somewhere in the darkness of the room.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a voice growls against my ear.
I suck in a sharp breath as my body goes limp, every bit of strength leaving me as I slump against the hard chest I’m trapped against.
No. It can’t be him. But even though it’s been three years since I’ve seen him, I’d know that voice anywhere. It haunts my dreams every night.
“Dominic?” I don’t even recognize my voice, the breathy, needy sound that rips from my chest as he pulls me backstage and whirls me around, pushing my back up against a wall in the dark shadows behind the curtains.
“I said what the fuck are you doing?” His voice is hard. Nearly as hard as the icy expression in his blue eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. I nearly do.
Until they drop from my face to take in my body, my tits that are inches from his chest.
“Oh god,” I whisper, my hands coming up instinctively to cover them.
That gorgeous face twists in a sneer. “Now you’re going to cover yourself? Jesus, Poppy, how long have you been taking your clothes off for money.”
So much anger.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
So much shame. So much hurt. He still has the ability to draw up those emotions in me.
“Come on. I’m getting you out of here.” Dominic grabs my arm and pulls me toward the dressing room. His voice is strained when he says, “Put your clothes on.”
I know he expects me to do what he says. Just like I always did. But I’m not that girl he used to know. Not anymore.
I shake my head. “This is my job, Dom. I can’t just leave. I need the money.” Desperately.