The Match Page 3

  “That will be us soon enough,” Stacey says, tugging on my arm.

  I roll my eyes at her. “I’d rather we save ourselves the embarrassment.”

  She points up at the girls. “You will look a thousand times better than them when you’re up in the air. Ladies night is all about the ladies. So, take the stick out of your ass and let’s have some fun.”

  “How do we get up there?”

  “The stairs, silly.” She pulls a white ticket from her purse. “And with this. I hand it to the bouncer when we get up there, and we are good to go.” Stacey moves behind me and playfully smacks me on the ass, pushing me away from the bar. “Get a move on, girlie. The night is a wasting.”

  “Ava,” Nate says to me. “Don’t leave yet.”

  I look over my shoulder at him and he nods at the bartender who’s popping the tops off four beer bottles. I turn to Stacey. “How about we have a drink with them to get our liquid courage, and then maybe I’ll consider dancing up there with you.”

  She flashes a victorious smile and claps. “Deal.”

  I move between Nate and his friend and take two of the beers from the bartender, handing one to Stacey. “Thank you,” I say to Nate and press the bottle to my lips.

  Nate brushes his fingers along mine as we stand there, drinking in silence. Desperate to escape the awkward start to our girls’ night out, I pound the beer and set the empty bottle on the counter behind me.

  “Thanks for the drink, Nate.” I give his arm a squeeze. “Have a good night.”

  “I’ll be here if you change your mind, beautiful,” he says with a wink.

  As Stacey pulls me up several flights of stairs and toward the bouncer who’s responsible for helping girls into the cages, my throat closes up. I need another drink…or ten. Maybe hanging out with Nate and his friend wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Sweat-slick limbs rubs up against me, the sensation on my skin causing my stomach to turn. Stacey never has a problem with public displays or making an ass out of herself.

  I stand next to Stacey as she yells something to the bouncer. He has his arms folded across his thick chest, his huge forearms dwarfing the black T-shirt that fits him like spandex. The man reminds me of a surfer with his tanned skin and bleach-blond hair. A few seconds pass where they have a conversation I can’t hear over the thumping techno music, before he lifts the rope blocking the entrance to our cage.

  “I can’t believe we are doing this,” I say loud enough for Stacey to hear.

  She looks over her shoulder and smiles. “You won’t forget this night. Enjoy it.”

  I try not to look out at the crowd, who could probably care less about me. So, why am I so nervous? Another man opens a cage for two half-naked girls that were inside. They look exhausted as they make their exit past us and down the stairs.

  Stacey takes her place in the cage to my left. Still unsure if I should go through with the plan, I follow her lead.

  For the first few minutes after the cages are raised in the air, I’m stiff and awkward, until I get into my groove. I try not to think about the people in the crowd. They don’t matter. No one can see my face, though I doubt that’s what they are looking at anyway.

  Moving my hips back and forth to the music, I keep my eyes in front of me. Stacey tells me to grip the metal bars and drop it low. Under the heat from the lights and the steady pace we have to maintain, I practically melt into a puddle on the floor. It’s too hot, even in a skimpy dress.

  I tighten my grip on the bars before I get too confident and fall and embarrass myself. Singing the words to the song in my head, I keep going and force my body to move, already feeling my leg cramping up. The pain radiating up my thigh makes standing in these heels ten times harder, but I force myself to keep pace with Stacey. She loves all the attention she gets from everyone, smiling as she gyrates to the music.

  When the song changes to a more techno beat, I inch forward, in sync with Stacey, and we move to the beat of the music. Once the song ends, I stop for a second, sweat dripping into my eyes and down my face. With the lights blinding me, I can hardly see the faces in front of me. The cages finally lower after what feels like an hour. They swing to the side to drop us off on the platform, and the same bouncer opens the doors for us.

  “Oh my God that was amazing,” Stacey yells, throwing her arm across the back of my neck. “You are a natural. See, I told you that you can do it.”

  I laugh at her comment. Not until I look away from Stacey do I focus on the people in the VIP areas on our floor, shocked when I get a better look. Sitting next to a group of guys, I spot a man on a leather couch who bears a striking resemblance to Sloan.

  I close my eyes and open them once more. It’s him. And he was watching me. He licks his lips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, he pats his knee, as if telling me he wants me to sit on his lap. Either that, or he wants to bend me over his knee. I get wet from the thought of either possibility.

  Chapter Six

  SLOAN

  “Doooccc!” Wyatt throws his hands above his head and slurs, screaming his nickname for me. “Do another shot with me.” He lowers his arms to hook one of them around the back of the stripper at his side. “No, better yet, do a shot off her tits with me.”

  I shake my head, a smirk slowly forming on my lips. “Not tonight. We have to go.”

  “C’mon,” he hisses. “One for the road. Take the stick out of your ass. What kind of best man turns down strippers on the night of his best friend’s bachelor party?”

  I laugh. “The kind that just had ten lap dances and doesn’t want to walk to The Sixth Floor.” Pointing to the front door of the club, I motion to our friends, who will not think twice about leaving us behind.

  Wyatt rolls his eyes at me and slumps forward in his usual obnoxious manner, childish theatrics and all. He’s been my best friend since we were kids and insisted we have multiple bachelor parties for his upcoming wedding. Tonight’s bar crawl is one of the many parties I had to plan up for his big day.

  I tug on Wyatt’s arm to steer him away from the bar. “I’ll buy you all the shots you can drink before you pass out. Just get in the damn limo. I’m too fucked up to drag your drunk ass down to Penn’s Landing.”

  He runs a hand through his sandy blond hair and frowns. “Okay, Dad. You suck all the fun out of everything. That job has turned you into a boring stiff. We can go, but you owe me a shot off a girl’s tits.”

  I smirk. “Done. Now, let’s go before I throw you over my shoulder and drag your punk ass out of here.”

  He punches me in my arm and laughs. “You gonna show me those old wrestling moves?”

  I laugh. “Only if I have to.”

  Wyatt whispers something into the stripper’s ear, and she giggles, smacking him playfully on the chest. She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and rubs her tits on his arms as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

  A few minutes later, we stumble out of the strip club, drunk off our asses, and find our friends standing outside the limo. Wyatt runs toward the open door and jumps onto the leather bench. Three of our closest friends climb into the limousine behind him, laughing at his stupidity, and within minutes, the beer is flowing again. We turn up the music, cranking an old rap song through the speakers that bangs against my arm with each thump of the bass.

  The driver has to be sick of us by now, especially after the scene Wyatt made two clubs before. He’s taking the end of his freedom a little too far.

  “We’re going to The Sixth Floor,” Wyatt yells through the lowered partition, waiting for the driver to nod before he hits the button to raise the glass. He turns to look at me and rubs his hands together, wiggling his eyebrows. “You ready to finish this night off with a bang?”

  “Hell, yeah, I’m ready,” I say with a grin that mirrors his. “Dude, save yourself the headache. Call it off now.”

  He leans back and kicks up his foot up on the bench. “Karen isn’t that bad.”

  “If that were true, you woul
dn’t have done half the shit you did tonight.”

  Wyatt slides his hands behind his head, narrowing his eyes at me. “If I have to sleep with one woman for the rest of my life, I need to make up for all the vanilla sex. Wait until it’s your turn, you’ll see.”

  “Good luck with that.” I shake my head. “My turn is a long ways away, if ever.”

  When the car comes to a stop, Wyatt pounds the rest of his beer and slams the bottle down in the cup holder next to him. The rest of us follow suit and climb out from the limo when the driver opens the door for us. My friends let out a series of grunts and howls. Ryan Hunt, my friend since kindergarten, almost knocks over the driver as he tumbles out of the car.

  “Shots! Shots! Shots!” Wyatt shouts, nudging me in the arm hard, as we make our way to the front door. “I get to pick the girl this time.”

  “Here,” Ryan says, handing me a few hundred dollar bills. “Buy him whatever he wants.”

  “You’d need a lot more money for that.”

  Ryan laughs, knowing full well that what Wyatt would want is illegal, not easy to find around here, and ten kinds of wrong.

  “Good thing we talked him out of Vegas, or we’d be paying out the ass right now for this shit show.”

  I nod. “No way I could get out of work for that many days anyway. I was lucky I got tonight off. They wanted me to pull another double.”

  “I don’t know how you do it, bro.” Ryan gives the bouncer a wad of cash, enough to cover all of us. None of it earned legally. “At least you did it. You’re the only one from the old neighborhood that crawled out of the fucking gutter and made something of yourself.”

  I busted my ass to get a scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania, a school my dad told me would never take poor white trash. I proved him wrong along with everyone else I know. My friends were never like me. They were too busy fucking off in school and getting into trouble. But they had street smarts that helped me do what was necessary to pay my way through medical school at Duke University. In that way, we are alike. We are the products of our shitty upbringing.

  My friends have connections at this club. They sell drugs to the bouncers and some of the girls, so we pass right through the door without a word. Men are forced to wait outside, hoping for enough girls to come along to grant them access. Wyatt strolls into the club alongside Zander like they own the damn place, while I hang back with Ryan and Travis.

  Over the thumping of the techno beat, I can’t hear a single word my friends are yelling. I nod, having no idea what I am agreeing to, and follow Wyatt and Zander to the stairs in the far corner. The air is thick, the stench of sweaty bodies and beer filling my nostrils. Purple lights illuminate the mirrored walls and ceiling above the bar, casting the reflection of the girls grinding in cages at the center of the dance floor.

  Parts of the club are roped off, the VIP areas lined with plush couches and girls dancing on top of tables. That’s where we usually party when we come to The Sixth Floor. Located on the Delaware River, the hottest nightclub in Philly has balconies that overlook the Camden Waterfront, and private floors dedicated to high-end clients.

  What holds my interest most are the cages that suspend from the ceiling over the massive dance floor. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the raven-haired bombshell shaking her perfect ass next to her blonde friend. Both of the girls are my type, but the one girl has a body made for sin and lips made to suck my cock. Imaging her dark hair fisted in my hands, mouth open, and eyes pointed up at me, I almost knock Zander on his ass.

  He falls forward, using the railing to stabilize himself, keeping me from tripping over him in the process. I grip his shoulder to regain my balance and apologize with a quick slap on his arm. Zander glances over his shoulder at me and gives me a curious look, but doesn’t say a word. I’m drunk but not as much as Wyatt. Travis isn’t any better. He gets strangely quiet when he’s shitfaced, where Wyatt doesn’t shut the fuck up.

  We find Kayla, the manager who hooks us up with a table whenever we come here, which isn’t much anymore with my work schedule. She leads us to the reserved section, shaking her tight ass in a short skirt that could pass as underwear.

  The cages catch my attention in the mirror on the wall behind a long row of couches in our section, as if begging me to notice. I turn around and sit on the sofa between Ryan and Wyatt to get a better look. Everyone in the club can see the two girls dancing for our amusement. But I see something entirely different. I watch as Ava moves, her body so in tune to the music, each movement perfectly timed to the beat.

  She wraps her half-naked body around a pole at the center of the metal cage, dropping to the floor with such grace I can’t help but stare. Alternating with her friend, the two of them taking equal turns. A bouncer stands on our floor, where the balcony opens up, but on the other side of the walkway, waiting to help them out of the cages.

  “You owe me shots,” Wyatt says. He pushes his hand in front of my face to snap me out of my daydream.

  I take a beer from the waitress’ tray and sink into the plush fabric. “I didn’t forget. We have all night.”

  Wyatt follows my line of sight to the girls from the cage, who are now walking toward us. He gets up from the couch and slips under the velvet rope that marks off our private area. I tap my hand on my knee, beckoning Ava to come closer when I lock eyes with her. She looks even better than the night we met.

  “Ladies,” Wyatt says with his signature shit-eating grin. He brushes the hair that fell on his forehead out of his eyes, zoning in on the blonde. “I was hoping you could help me out with something. My friend owes me a shot.”

  He points to me, and I tip my head in acknowledgment.

  “What does that have to do with us?” Ava narrows her eyes at him, confused.

  With little distance between us now, I get a better look at her bright blue irises that pop against her pale skin and dark hair. I need to fuck her again, possess her, and claim every inch of her killer body. My dick hardens when she peeks over at me, as if telling me with her eyes to come closer. And I do, moving toward her without even realizing she has this strange hold over me.

  Standing on the bottom step, I lean against the short railing that fences off the next VIP area from ours. Wyatt winks at me, before refocusing his gaze on the girls in front of us.

  “You see, Doc promised me a shot off a beautiful woman’s tits.” He points to the blonde, who smiles so wide it reaches up to her eyes. “And I want that woman to be you.”

  She giggles, turning nervously to look at Ava who shrugs. I can already tell without her speaking that the answer is yes. Wyatt is a pig, and he makes no excuses for it. He has a way of getting women to do what he wants that I will never understand. Everything he says would sound disgusting to me if he were hitting on me. But the blonde has no issues with how he speaks to her.

  “I’m Wyatt,” he says, holding out his hand. “And you are?”

  “I’m Stacey,” the blonde says. She mashes her huge tits together, giving both of us a nice view down her tight black dress that hugs her tiny waist and rides up her ass. Stacey points to her friend. “This is Ava.” She slaps Ava on the back to push her closer to me.

  Focused on Ava’s lips, my eyes travel down her body, my attention shifting when Stacey’s forceful shove causes Ava to tumble forward. I manage to close the distance between us in just enough time to wrap my arms around her middle and hold her tight. She smells like apricots, the sweetness making me want to lick the scent from her delicious skin.

  “Funny meeting you here,” I tell Ava, releasing her from my strong grip.

  She runs a hand down the front of her red dress, tugging at the hem that sits high on her thighs, and smiles. “Your friends call you Doc.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been calling that ever since I got into medical school.” I slide my hand to her hip and pull her chest into mine. “Dance with me.”

  “Aren’t you bossy.” Her lips part for me, and she glides her tongue along her bott
om lip. “Only if you show me how good you are with those hands.”

  “That I can do.” I peek over at Wyatt and mouth that I’m going downstairs with Ava.

  “What about the shot?” He shoves a shot glass between Stacey’s tits without an ounce of shame. She seems to be just as shameless.

  “I got this,” Ryan says to me. He pushes out his hand, telling me to go, and cups Wyatt’s shoulders with his hands. “What are we drinking? Cuervo?”

  I look down at Ava and hold out my arm for her to grab. “Ready?”

  Chapter Seven

  AVA

  I hook my arm through Sloan’s, allowing him to lead me downstairs. He keeps me snug against his side and uses every opportunity to touch me. With dark hair that sweeps over his forehead and green eyes that look even brighter against his tanned skin, I wanted him inside me again the second I saw him. Sloan was watching me from a distance, like a voyeur undressing me with one look.

  The club is dark, save for the purple lights that cast shadows around the room. Once we find a spot in the corner of the club, our eyes meet at the same time. He stares at me, so hard and intense that it makes my pulse pound and nipples stiffen. The electricity that hums between us sets my skin on fire, a brush of heat dancing along my skin like wildfire. We were supposed to dance, not hang out under the stairwell. But I don’t mind. I like the privacy this spot offers us.

  Gripping my shoulders, Sloan pushes my lower back into the cinderblock wall. Control, power, and dominance—three words that are written all over his handsome face. This man takes what he wants without asking. And I want him to take it from me. All of it. Until he’s tasted the last drop.

  Slowly, I glide my tongue along my bottom lip. With a devious grin on his face and a sinful look in his eyes, he digs his hip into mine, pinning me against the wall. I have nowhere to run. Now, I am all his.

  It’s hot in here and somehow too crowded even in a space this size. A sea of people surrounding us grinds on each other, the sweat dripping off their bodies. It’s not even the perfect blend of techno beats that has me so entranced. Sloan sucks up all the air around me, with his masculine scent and warm body drawing every breath I have left.