Page 18 of Untouchable Billionaire (The Hardcore Novels: Special Editions #1)

I drive my Jaguar to Been Jammin' and get in the line for valet parking.

It's long, and I sit patiently, thinking about the construction in the East Wing and whether or not I'll go to Italy this year with the family for Christmas or decide to come out here to work on it instead.

A limousine pulls past, and I watch with curiosity who is in it.

When the car door is opened, I see a pair of stilettos appear, and my heart skips a beat.

But then I see a redhead exit, and my heart goes back to beating normal.

I pull up under the canopy, and an epiphany hits me between the eyes.

What if she is driven to work and uses the fucking front door?

It wouldn't be the first time a club asked their stars to promote their show by allowing the fans close access.

When the valet takes my information and keys, I ask if the redhead was a star.

"Oh no. Only here. That was Cat. She's part owner, but you never know who will show up. I've opened the doors of limo's and discovered Brittney Spears, Jennifer Lopez, and once Toby Keith." He smiles. "Super nice guy."

He grins at me and winks as he takes the money. "She sure does about two hours before her show starts too."

I enter the casino and walk straight back to the Club. When I arrive at the hostess podium, the hostess politely asks. "Do you have a reservation?"

"I want a reservation," I state and smile.

"Where?"

"The Gentlemen's Club."

"There isn't anything available tonight, but I can put you down for tomorrow night."

I look away, trying not to show my displeasure at having to wait another night.

It's not in my nature to let things just happen.

It's in my nature to make things happen.

"Yes. Please. Put me down for tomorrow night.

" I give her my name and contact information, then walk away a few feet, stop and walk back up, holding a $50, leaning in and whispering to her. "I forgot to tip you. Excuse me."

"That's very considerate of you."

"If you have a no-show tonight on a reservation, please give me a call. I want to fill it. There's a twin in my pocket for you if you do."

She laughs. "If there are triplets in your pocket, I can guarantee we will have a cancelation tonight."

I laugh too. "If you can get me one of those elevated booths in the center before Seary's show starts, there are quadruplets in my pocket for you."

"Be here at midnight." She leans away and marks it down on her board.

"We'll see you then." I wink at her and pat my pocket.

Walking away, I feel like a gambler feeding an addiction.

Heading back to the entrance, I check the time.

It's 9:45 pm. She should be arriving in 15 minutes.

Sitting at a slot machine close enough to see outside, I watch the vehicles arriving, absentmindedly feeding it $ 100's and pushing the buttons, letting the reel spin pissing money into it.

At around 9:55, four prominent men in suits arrive and standby just inside the lobby.

At 10:00 sharp, a limo pulls up. The big dudes walk and stand post, then one of them opens the door.

A small pair of red Converse tennis shoes and distressed skinny jeans appear first, followed by a red cable ribbed sweater that accentuates nice plump breasts under it.

Laying on top of the mounds is one thick braided blonde ponytail.

The young lady, wearing a ball cap that's pulled down snug shielding her eyes, stands up and exits the vehicle.

Instantly my heart goes from zero to three thousand RPMs, and my breath gets cut off in my throat.

It's Seary. I recognize her by the elegant way she moves.

The four men casually surround her, and they walk as a unit inside.

She smiles at the doorman when he speaks to her and waves at him with her fingers.

Impulsively, I hit the cash out button to intercept her path.

No plan in mind. Shooting from the hip. I'll come up with something.

Bells start clanging, and the light on top of my machine starts spinning.

I freeze. What the hell? I hit the jackpot.

Not now! I turn back to watch helplessly as her entourage walks by.

She peeks around a massive body to look at my machine, and I see her smile of happiness.

My heart skips a beat, and my breath hangs up again.

What a true beauty she is. No makeup, and she's still stunning.

Her light green eyes shift to find mine—the winner at the slot.

My gut draws up with nervous anticipation, wondering what feeling I will get when our eyes connect, but her bodyguard's stride blocks the direct connection, and my eyes trail after her retreating figure. Her ass looks perfect in those jeans.

I turn to the lady sitting two machines down and tell her. "Congratulations, ma'am. You just won the jackpot. It's all yours."

She looks startled with my words, then recovers quickly. "Thank you! What a nice young man you are!"

As I walk away, I hear her friend add. "What a handsome young man too!"

I close the distance behind Seary, analyzing how her detail proceeds and how they assess the crowd.

They are trained bodyguards. On the lookout for prowlers and possible stalkers.

An older couple waves at Seary, calling her by name, and she waves back, then stops to chitchat and pose for a picture.

She slides in-between them, and they hug her uptight while one of her goons takes the picture.

I circle around to get a better view but stay far enough away not to be seen.

It's hard to tell if her goons are more for crowd control than safety, but the way their suits are cut, they could be packing weapons.

They continue without incident, and I fall in line behind them all the way to the fake patio at the Club entrance and watch as she disappears from my view.

Knowing she's here getting ready to perform sets me on edge, and I decide to wait at the bar.

Wedging myself between the men crowded around a nearly topless bartender, I order a Crown and coke tonight.

UFC is on the screen overhead, and I absentmindedly watch the two dudes grappling on the ground for position, letting my mind go over the details and formulate a plan of action.

I haven't played this game before. Hmm. Do I begin my seduction first?

Her team is punctual, which means predictable.

I could work that to my advantage. Do I get in her path and get noticed?

Getting her alone in a VIP room is a must and the ideal scenario, but if all else fails, I can book a Fucking Fantasy.

I decide to text Darren while I wait.

I'm at the Club. Bart runs a top-notch establishment.

A couple of minutes go by unanswered. He's probably asleep.

And Seary?

I saw her dance last night. Pure magic.

Awesome news!

My recommendation is to invest.

Excellent! I'll let Bart know I'm a go. Do you want in too?

No. Conflict of interest.

Thanks for your help, Buddy.

No problem.

Someone touches my shoulder. I look to see who is sliding up next to me.

"Mr. Moore." Beverly smiles like a cat who just got a bowl full of milk. "Do you need my help getting a table tonight?"

"No. I have a reservation."

She nods. "I've just left Seary's dressing room."

"And?"

"Trust me on this. You won't want to miss a single second of tonight's entertainment." She pats my back.

"And?" I raise my eyebrows for an answer to the real question.

"Look me up afterward. I'll be sitting right over there again tonight when you leave. I have news."

"Perfect."

"Enjoy the show."

"I'm sure I will." I turn my attention back to the MMA fighters bloodying each other up overhead, but I don't see them. She has good news. Otherwise, she wouldn't have spoken.

My alarm goes off at 11:55 pm, and I walk back to the podium with $200 in my hand. The same hostess greets me and says, "Right this way, Mr. Moore. Tara, I'm going to seat him myself. Cover for me."

Tara checks me out and grins. "Sure."

I follow her to an elevated booth just outside the first row of tables. Designed to seat ten people, the view of the stage is perfect, and I give her the tip when she seats me. The room is packed again, and the dancers who are on the stage are really good high-quality talent.

THUMP, THUMP. THUMP, THUMP.

The strobes blind me. My abs harden as I get ready to see Seary in action.

The correlation with the beating bass and my increased heart rate, plus the throbbing strobes and my cock's reaction to the anticipation of seeing her nearly naked body just a few feet away, aren't lost on me. Brilliantly played!

Tonight, Seary doesn't start with an opening act. She dances out onto the stage alone without music. It's powerful and profound. She doesn't have on a stitch of clothes. Her entire body, including her hair, is painted deep red and dark purple. Fucking A!

When the music does start, it's "Wild" by Troye Sivan featuring Alessia Cara.

The words seep into my soul as I sit there watching her mesmerizing dance.

Careful not to expose her pussy, she bends, twirls splits, and dances wildly.

I'm guilty, like the lyrics say, of trying not to fall and keeping the old protective walls around my heart.

But it's hopeless. I can't turn away. This woman drives me absolutely wild!

Fuck! I want her so bad. I've got to have her.

When the song is over, she stops dancing and stands motionless on the stage in complete silence.

A group of four mimes, Jabbawockeez, run onto the stage and begin looking at her.

They step closer, examining her with their eyes and mimes.

Then they huddle up, talk, look at her, then huddle, then look at her, nod their heads, high-five, and break.

Two run off, and two walk over and take her arms, raise them to shoulder height, then push them over her head.

The other two reappear, bringing a long pole and a paint bucket and brush.

They mime discussing who is going to get to do what, and they flip a coin.

The two losers pick up the pole, hoist it over their heads, place Seary between them, dip down so her hands can latch on, and they lift her off her feet.

She hangs suspended. The other two take the paint bucket and brush, arguing over who gets to paint her.

In my mind, little increments of time begin to tick off as I realize only her strong grip holds her full body weight.

When the two arguing finally get down to dipping the brush in the paint, my heart seizes when it comes out of the bucket.

Fuck! It's the same gold paint she wore last night on her nipples!

My cock fills with blood from the memory of those taut tips dangling right in front of me, and my hand grabs it to stifle the throbbing that's started again.

The song "Can't Stop The Feeling!" by Justin Timberlake begins to play, and the paintbrush is held out toward her body.

The mimes, holding the pole, dance around, so the brush applies paint.

They stop when it is to be dipped again in the bucket, and the painter can change places with the other one.

Each time they stop and become distracted, dipping the paint in the bucket, Seary's body begins to dance hanging from the pole.

When they turn back to her to apply the paint, she freezes, holding some very awkward poses that demonstrate her incredible strength.

The whole routine is both funny, seductive, and powerful.

When the song ends, the painters clap their hands together and admire their work.

She has a gold stripe the width of the painter's brush that wraps her body.

Starting at her hairline and winding down around those plump tits, around her toned abs, around her asscheeks, and down one of her muscular legs.

Then the THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, and strobes begin again, and those two run off the stage, but the other two continue holding the pole.

The next song starts, and it's "Scream" by Usher.

Seary swings her body for momentum and flips herself upside down onto the top of the pole.

She slowly lowers her feet to it, then springs off, flipping and landing like a cat.

The two men look shocked and flee from her.

The lights on the stage go dark, and the body paint glows.

She begins to dance like nothing I've ever seen before.

It's like liquid glowing. My entire body clenches.

She mimics withering, and it looks like rippling water.

My mind locks up. Then she's dancing, moving her hips mimicking lovemaking, and it looks like waves.

Knowing I could do that to her all night long until we would both be screaming makes me even more determined to possess her to share my skills with her.

We will be good together. What fucking fun we will have.

Immediately she transitions into "Pillowtalk" by Zayn. I feel her dance interpretation deep inside me, and I realize we are kindred spirits. That's why she's having this effect on me. Sex is a paradise and a war zone.

The last song of the show is "Hollow" by Tori Kelly. Expressing how fragile she is and wants to be wrapped and filled like a cup because her vessel is hollow, but she longs to be understood. My heart hurts for her and, therefore for me. I feel the need to hold her close, cherish her, protect her.

She ends the dance, standing in the exact same spot in the exact same silent pose.

The mimes return with a big barrel and stand behind her.

They start to swing it, then they heave it up over her head and dump all the water in it on her.

The paint washes away, and she is left standing there naked, soaking wet, bare, bronzed flesh for everyone to see.

Stunning! She is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.

Then they lower the barrel down over her, topple it and pick it up, carrying her off.

Right at the curtain, she sticks her head out and blows kisses to the crowd.

The whole place sounds like a bomb went off when they erupt with cheers.

I leave without looking back to find Beverly, knowing I'll do whatever it takes to fuck this woman, and I will fuck her over and over and over again.