“Who were you talking to?” Ashley asks, as she takes a step closer to me.
“My lawyer, Gerard,” I say, desperately aware that my cock is starting to harden and stick up. Ashley notices too.
“I overslept,” she says, rubbing her eyes.
“That’s okay,” I say, standing still. “I was going to come back to bed …”
“No, that’s okay,” Ashley says and I can see her hands come up and begin to fiddle with the buttons. She’s got a bit of bed head, and for the millionth fucking time I think how goddamn cute she looks.
“What was he talking about?” Ashley asks me, coming up to me. “Selling strip clubs?”
Oh. Fuck.
Here it is, isn’t it. I never fucking told her what I do. Where all this money comes from.
But what have I always told you?
That I’m going to be fucking honest. No matter what.
“I own the strip club that you used to work at,” I tell Ashley and I see her large eyes grow wider as she looks at me. “The night that I ran into you in the cab, I own that club.”
“You own a strip club?” Ashley asks.
“Among other things,” I reply. “My dad was a big deal in the sex industry.”
Is she going to leave? Is she going to ask me why I do what I do? Is she going to be a prude?
God, I don’t think after what we did last night, she can even be a fucking prude.
But being a billionaire sex trafficker is sort of different from say, being a billionaire banker. I wonder what her reaction will be?
“If you were at the club and you own it,” she starts and comes closer still. “Why did you never get a dance from me?”
Oh.
Wow. Not what I was expecting.
I don’t say anything as Ashley gently pushes me back and I sit down on the leather chair next to the video monitor I take video calls on.
Ashley turns on some music on her phone and turns up the volume.
It’s 7:47 am and I’m about to get a lap dance from the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever met.
Ashley turns her back to me and slides off my shirt, showing me the back of her naked body.
Her toned ass bounces in front of me as she moves her weight from one foot to the other.
The thing about her is that she doesn’t look like a stripper. Her tanned skin doesn’t speak of countless nights spent under neon nights, and her face still looks fresh and full of candor. She doesn’t seem like a product, built to seduce over and over again, as if in a production line. She looks as real as the girl next door, just perhaps not as innocent.
Ashley looks through strands of her hair at me as I sit a few steps from her. The movements of her body match the flow of the music, her hips rocking from one side to the other. She moves her neck in a circle and, with her hand, whips her hair back.
With a strut to her step she comes near me, her feet making her turn; she leans forward, her ass at my eye level. Her long fingers caress her round cheeks, and I bring my hands up to her ass, resting on the sides.
I can feel my cock stirring as I touch her—her ass is apple shaped, her skin soft and without blemishes, a gentle firmness to it. I allow my fingers to explore, tracing the outline of her ass, my fingertips reaching for and caressing the dimples in her lower back.
She turns on one heel, her hands going down her body as she sways her hips. She can feel my gaze upon her, and my mouth is already dry with desire. Grabbing his hands she guides them over her flat belly and up to her tits. Her nipples are hard against my fingers, almost begging to be licked, and as I gently squeeze she allows a smile to light up her face.
Ashley climbs on top of me, each of her knees resting besides my legs, and brings her breasts closer to my mouth. I can almost feel her salivate as I take one nipple between my lips, nibbling gently.