Billionaire's Stripper novel Chapter 4

Sitting up straight, he leaned into my ear. "I was here, beautiful. I was sitting right here, watching that pig celebrity Stacy Dean slap your ass, kiss your ass cheek, then tried to finger fuck you in front of his entourage."

HAYDEN

It took everything in me not to go over to Stacy's table and beat the shit out of him. Sunday night I sat in this very booth, watching Lydia dance for both men and women. My focus was on her. I understood this was her profession, and I couldn't stop her from stripping. The line was crossed when Stacy handled her inappropriately.

Last night, I had my cousin hack into the Ritz-Carlton hotel database and Stacy's itinerary. Sebastian found out Stacy's room number. We took it a step further. Sebastian checked me into the hotel. This morning, he programmed my room key to open Stacy's room door. Sebastian scanned the security system and texted me at nine in the morning:

Sebastian: You can enter the room. He is alone.

Me: Thanks Sebastian.

I wore the same sunglasses and baseball cap I had on now when I arrived in his room. I was dressed in a dark t-shirt, jeans, black boots, and a pair of black leather gloves clung to my large hands. Peeking around the pitch-black corner once in the hotel room, I noticed he was asleep. The curtains throughout the room were closed. Grabbing the ice bucket, I splashed cold water on his face.

He sat straight up. Eyes wide. "What the fuck?" Stacy roared.

"What the fuck is right! You piece of shit."

My fist met his face. He slept nude, so I only had his medium length blonde hair to hold on to while I beat his fucking face in.

"You fucked with the wrong stripper. You disrespected my girl last night. You rotten motherfucker," I growled as I continued wailing on his face.

"It doesn't matter if she was or wasn't my girl, you don't defile a woman."

He tried pushing me away. "I'm sorry! I promise it won't happen again!"

I stood back. "You're right. You won't do it again. Don't go back to that strip club." I held his hair in my tight grip, leering into his bruised eyes. "Do you fucking understand?"

He placed his hands up. "I got it."

"You, breath a word of this to anyone, next time I'll come to your home and beat your ass. Think I'm joking?" I flashed my Glock on my hip.

"You decide."

He cradled his face. "I got it, man."

His tanned face was blue and red by the time I was done. He wouldn't make his photo shoot today.

Once in the hall, I slipped into the stair well, jogged down the steps, then out the front door of the hotel. Sebastian told me to make sure I parked around the corner or hopped on public transportation. Climbing into my Ferrari, I calmly drove out of the parking space, merging into traffic. I ran home, showered, then carried myself into the office, freshly shaven, wearing a custom gray three-piece suit.

"No. But I'm not your fucking charity case or latest conquest." She tried ripping her face away.

My lips crashed into hers. A burning sensation shocked my body, unlike anything I've ever felt. Lydia grabbed the front of my leather jacket, deepening our kiss. My hands caressed her waist. This time I didn't release her lips. I couldn't. I've been waiting to taste her lips again since Saturday night.

Lydia shoved her palms against my chest. Her hand flew over her mouth. She appeared dazed and confused.

"Lydia, I'm not here to force you to date me. I know deep down you want to. That kiss just confirmed what I already know. You want more. It's alright. So, do I."

The second I sank into my seat she stood.

"I'm a stripper." She paused, running her hand across her collar bone. "I'm not looking for anything serious. Please, let your stripper fantasy end here."

She strutted toward a table straight ahead, then danced. I slammed the vodka down my throat, placing the empty shot glass on the table next to me. Her walking off only made me want her more. I wouldn't rest until she was mine. I watched her dance for others around the club. Once she disappeared into the dressing room, I vacated the club. Sitting in the back of my chauffeured silver Bentley, I watched from across the street as she hopped into her car.

"Follow her. Don't follow too close. I want to make sure she makes it home safe."

"Of course, Mr. Gaster."

Grabbing the bottle of vodka, I poured myself another drink. Rationality went out the window. I wanted this woman to be mine. I couldn't find it in myself to leave her alone. The pent-up aggression in our kiss told me she wanted more now. Her hungry tongue danced with mine perfectly. She pulled back, licking her lips. My dick was hard as a rock. I wanted to take her home and fuck her good. I never wanted or desired women. I didn't have to. Women came too easy. Honestly, I thought I'd at least have her phone number by now. Why was she fighting me? Shit, maybe my approach was all wrong. Tomorrow night, I wouldn't request Lydia to come over to my table at all.