Dark Side of the Moon, 1
My dream was to dance.
But I never thought I would end up in a Burlesque club. Life doesn’t always work out the way we want, does it?
Dark Side of the Moon offers me the chance to do what I love while earning some money, but I don’t intend on taking my clothes off for the rest of my life. I have aspirations.
When I am offered the opportunity to get the job I want, I grab it with both hands. Now, I find myself bound to an Alpha I don’t know, in a pack I really don’t want to be part of. Life doesn’t wait for us to achieve our dreams before throwing a curveball.
It’s time to adapt or admit defeat.
Be Warned: public exhibition, knotting
Excerpt:
The lighting in the room is low, but my eyes adjust easily to spot a large man reclined on a black leather couch. The moment my eyes land on him, I know this is a bad idea. He is the perfect specimen of a predator. His body is massive and dominates the space even when he tries to seem relaxed.
It takes me a moment to gather myself before I can speak, his presence messing with my senses.
“I’m The Dancer,” the words leave me in a husky whisper. “You requested a private dance?”
“Come here,” he commands, his voice low and sexy, sending goose bumps skittering across my skin.
I want to protest, but my legs are already moving. I would love to say he used his Alpha compulsion on me, but we both know that isn’t true. My body is reacting to him of its own volition. I’ve never felt this strange draw to another person in my entire life.
He shifts his legs, widening the space between his thighs and making room for me to stand. His gaze is like a physical caress as he watches every step I take toward him until I am directly in front of him.
“Turn around. Slowly.”
The pupils of his dark eyes are blown out, and I can see the ring of gold around the iris, betraying his beast lurking beneath the surface. He is working hard to keep his animal at bay. The thought should terrify me, but knowing I have this effect on him is a heady feeling, and I comply to fulfill his wishes. I turn in a slow circle hoping I look as sexy as I feel beneath his gaze.
I can feel the dark energy rolling off him in waves. He is holding back from touching me, and even though I have never allowed it, I honestly think I might let this man.
Once I face him again, I can see his clenched jaw, the strain in his shoulders, and his fisted hands beside him. But the thing that has my full attention is his massive cock straining at the front of his dark suit pants. I lick my lips like a wanton whore before gazing back at his face.
“Dance for me, Beautiful,” he all but growls the words.
I slowly make my way over to the docking station in the corner and select one of my favorite songs. The moment the music filters through the speakers, I sway my hips, running my hands up the side of my body until they are tangled in my hair. I let the rhythm sweep me away from this room and the man in it, and I do what I do best.
I dance.
The rustle of clothing draws my attention, and my gaze flicks to him. He removed his jacket and rolled his white dress shirt above his forearms. The dark ink that covers his flesh intrigues me, and I want to see it up close. My feet carry me closer to him once more, all while keeping to the song’s beat.
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Who are you?” he asks darkly.
“The Dancer. I already told you.” My words are husky, with the unexpected lust running through my veins. “Who are you?”
“Elias Anderson. Now tell me your name, Beautiful.”
His gaze locks with mine, and I feel entranced. I lose myself in his dark eyes and it takes me a moment to break out of the trance he has put me in.
“Quinn,” the word slips from me before I even have the chance to think about it.
