Playboy » L.S

Chapter 8

The Playboy's dance was as sexual and arousing as the last time I had the privilege to watch him perform, but this time something was off, besides his clothing.

His dance never faltered- he never missed a beat. Yet his moves weren't as fluid as last time, something was clearly on his mind. I had this nagging in the back of my head that wanted to know what had him so distracted, but I barely know the guy, so I'm not in any position to ask him.

The position I want to be in is on top of him, My subconscious chimes in, but I can't say he isn't right. 

Another Playboy is on the stage now, but I find myself not attracted to him as I was the curly haired one. This one just isn't him, but he's still hotter than any normal human being.

His hair is black and spiked up in the front, caramel brown eyes shimmering under the dim club lighting. Black dress pants hang low on his hips, his torso bare besides a red tie covered in glitter.

What shocks me the most is his bad boy persona. Sure, the curly haired Playboy had some tattoos, but this one is covered in them. All along his arms and chest are black swirls, some colored in with ink.

Although it seems a bit unusual for him to be a Playboy, the crowd seems to like him. Everybody has a bad boy fetish deep down whether they want to admit it or not.

 "It's eleven, Cam's shift is over. I'm going to go have some drinks with him," Damien mutters in my ear. I turn my head to look at him with a sly smirk on my face. The slimy bastard shoots me a wink before getting up and sauntering over to the bar.

I chuckle and shake my head, redirecting my attention back on the Playboy performing. His deep caramel eyes are surprisingly trained on me. I turn my head to each side, casually looking behind me to make sure he's actually looking at me.

The Playboy smirks and swings around the pole swiftly. He hasn't taken his intense gaze off of me and I find myself squirming in my seat. He's so beautiful that I don't know what to do with myself, yet I can't shake the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes on me. When the other Playboy watched me it was almost arousing. Now I just feel exposed.

I crack under his pressuring stare, standing from my seat to find the bathroom in this fucking place. I don't want to sit there and be his object to stare at and I definitely don't want to go over to the bar to watch Dame and Cam suck each other's faces.

There's a hallway that is close to the stage, so I decide to try that way first. There's multiple doors lining the dimly lit hallway, all of them being black and look exactly the same. Fucking hell, which one of these is the bathroom?

I try the first door on the right and flick on the light. It seems to be a supply closet of some sort, but for clothes. There's skimpy clothing ranging from short shorts to man thongs hanging on racks. Okay, this definitely isn't the bathroom.

After turning off the light and closing the door, I try the next one. This one is the same as the last, clothes literally filling the room. There's mirrors lining the far wall, each having Broadway lights shining along them. There's a few men in this room so I quickly shut the door before any of them see me.

"Fuck," I curse quietly, hoping the last door on the left is magically the bathroom. When I open the door and peek inside, all of the lights are on but nobody seems to be in here. Clothes line one of the walls while a single large mirror stands off to the side, the vanity only containing what looks like a picture frame on top of it.

In the corner of the room is a door which is open halfway, and from where I'm standing I can see a toilet. Oh thank god!

Nobody seems to be in the room so I quickly close the door behind me and cross over to the bathroom. The bathroom light is bright and different from the dimly lit room and hallway.

After I'm done doing my business, I exit the bathroom and cross the room again. When I pass the vanity, the photo on the mirror catches my eye.

I slowly approach it and take the picture between my thumb and index finger. As I study it, I recognize one of the two people: it's the curly haired Playboy and his arm is around a girl who seems about the same age as him. 

Her hair is a sandy brown color and her eyes are brown with a hint of green to them. She's absolutely stunning for a girl, and if I was straight I'd surely be attracted to her. As I study the photo further, I notice similarities between the two: their lips, their eye shape, their noses. They are clearly related, maybe it's his sister?

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" I nearly jump out of my skin at the booming voice, the picture falling from my hands onto the vanity.

When I look up in the mirror, the curly haired Playboy is standing in the doorway, already changed out of his performing outfit. He's now clad in black skinny jeans and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The top few buttons are undone, exposing his tattoos and I'm trying so hard not to drool.

"I said," He draws out as he kicks the door closed and stalks over to me. I turn around quickly as he approaches, stopping when he's only a foot away. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

His threatening tone makes me shudder, my breath ragid and uneven. I'm at a loss for words as he reaches his arm around my body, never once taking his piercing jade eyes off mine as he retrieves the photo from the vanity behind me.

He sticks the photo back onto the mirror where it was and as he leans in, his breath tingles against the skin of my neck. 

"You haven't answered me," He doesn't sound as angry as he did, but his tone sounds.. amused?

"Well- I-," I stutter before taking a deep breath, recollecting my scattered thoughts. "I was looking for the bathroom."

"By my mirror?" The corner of his lips curl up in a sexy smirk, his eyes finally leaving mine to drag down my body.

"I didn't know this was your room," My voice sounds breathless as he takes another step toward me, completely closing the gap between us.

His large hands grip at my waist, pulling my body against his just to press his back into mine, pushing my lower back into the vanity. He drags his tongue along the side of my neck and I bite my lower lip to supress my pathetic moans.

When his tongue reaches my ear, his nips at the lobe with his teeth before bringing his lips to my ear to whisper against it. "Well now you know."

I yelp when he suddenly hoists me up onto the vanity. He stands between my legs and places one of his hands on the side of my neck, the other resting on top of my thigh.

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls my head forward, crashing his lips against mine almost painfully. The pain is quickly replaced by pleasure as his tongue invades my mouth, rubbing and twirling around my own.

He places his hands on my hips again to scoot me to the edge of the vanity, creating a friction between our now rubbing crotches. My legs wrap around his waist and tighten, pressing him even harder against me, a sexy carnal noise slipping from his lips.

When I wrap my arms around his neck to pull his body flush against mine, his arm stretches out next to my head, his palm pressing into the mirror to hold our bodies up. My hands slide up the sides of his neck until they reach his hair, fisting the slightly sweaty curls between my fingers.

I tug at the roots when he presses his growing bulge against my own, both of us releasing heated moans at the same time. It's the sexiest sound I've ever, ever heard and from the way he sucks in a quick breath against my lips tells me that he thinks the same thing.

Just when my hands start sliding down his torso in the direction of his belt buckle, a man's voice calling out "Harry!" is heard from the hallway, followed immediately by the door swinging open.