His Stripper-Dark Romance

1

Author's Note:
Before you dive in, just a quick reminder to check out the important note below. It's really urgent, and I'd love for you to take a look!

Thank you in advance for reading and giving this book a chance!

A red-lit paradise, the lounge was a men-only realm-luxurious, exclusive, and accessible by invitation only. It existed beyond the reach of daylight, a sanctuary of loosened ties, dirty intentions, and consequence-free indulgence.

Behind every tailored mask sat a man with a thirst he couldn't confess in the light of day. In the hush between jazz notes and the clink of glasses, appetites were fed in the shadows, and desires lived freely.

Here, men arrived masked and left marked-their disguises concealing identity, never desire. They watched without being seen, lived for their cravings, and breathed in the evidence with each heavy pull of smoke.

Velvet curtains framed the grand stage ahead, glowing beneath low, provocative lighting. Smaller round platforms flickered throughout the lounge, each crowned with a gleaming pole, waiting to be gripped.

Waitresses floated between the men like living invitations-bare shoulders, short matching dresses revealing just enough to keep imaginations wild and wallets open. Some were rented by the hour: muses, distractions, or illusions in silk and heels.

Edward sat back in the booth, fingers lazily circling the rim of his untouched glass. He hadn't meant to end up here, but Daniel had insisted, claiming his cousin's fascination with one of the performers.

"Apparently, she's the only one worth watching." Daniel had slurred earlier, already two drinks in.

Edward hadn't been convinced, but he relented anyway, letting himself be dragged along by the promise of a show and the faint hope of distraction. Dressed in black, his mask tailored to perfection, he expected little, but hoped, at best, for a night worth Daniel's hype.

Across the booth, Daniel and Luke were already far gone. Drunk, loud, and more than a little enthralled. Luke had rented a muse, one of the club's private hostesses, a red-lipped blonde who now lounged between the two of them.

Luke was shamelessly flirting with her, whispering filth and flattery into her ear, earning a breathy giggle and a hand trailing up his thigh.

While Daniel slouched, eyes half-lidded, the muse had her fingers tangled in his hair, toying with it lazily, nails dragging gently over his scalp. He looked half-asleep, a grin plastered on his face.

Edward, disinterested, leaned back into the plush booth seat, the leather warm beneath his shoulders, his gaze fixed on the velvet curtain at the stage.

Gradually, the music slowed, and the conversations around hushed, an anticipatory hush settling over the lounge.

The red velvet curtains swept apart with theatrical grace, parting like a secret about to be confessed. The music shifted to a slow, sultry rhythm as the dancers stepped forward.

They moved in unison, hips swaying, heels striking the stage with measured confidence. Their costumes shimmered under the low lighting-corsets cinched tight with silk laces, breasts lifted high, the fabric a riot of deep plums and golds, encrusted with glittering beads that caught every flicker of light.

As the rhythm pulsed deeper, dancers twirled with practiced ease, fingers tugging silk loose. With effortless flair, fabric tore away like a second skin, revealing black and burgundy lingerie-straps hugging curves, lace framing the soft arcs of their hips. Every strap a statement, every glimpse of skin a calculated invitation.

One dancer stood apart, untouched by the frenzy. Amid the flurry of limbs and lingerie, she didn't shed a single piece of clothing, yet her presence alone unraveled the room. While others bared breasts and thighs, she bared control. She moved with lazy, exquisite certainty, like a woman who knew the weight of every gaze and wore it like silk.