The worst thing I could do was think, because then, I would begin to wonder what was wrong with me. I couldn't do that. Even if it was irrational, I had to push down my doubt.

Zoe deserved someone to fight for her.

And I had to prove that standing up for people...

Fighting for them...

Didn't have to come with a price.

- Chapter Eleven -

Huxton

We were both sweating by the time we finished up.

Stretching, I slid my jeans on over my shorts, zipping my jacket next. “I need a shower, feel like riding with me back to my place?” I asked, smiling down at Zoe.

Pulling her coat on over her tank-top, she led the way to the exit. “That sounds nice. Where do you live?”

“Not far. It'll be a quick ride on my bike.”

Together, we climbed onto my Harley. She did it so naturally, like hugging her body against mine was second-nature.

True to my word, we ripped through the traffic, dodging around cars, and arrived at my apartment in record time. I parked in my spot in the back alley, leading us through the gate. The complex was small, and in LA fashion, not well insulated. I didn't mind, I enjoyed the noise of the cars passing by. It was a good substitute for white noise.

Opening the door, I waved her inside. “Want a drink?” I asked, hanging my jacket over a chair. When Zoe said nothing, I turned, blinking at her.

She was standing in place, fixated on the brass pole that went up to the ceiling. “Stripper pole in the living room,” she said, cracking a smile. “Bold statement.”

“My Feng Shui has always been good.” Chuckling, I reached out for her jacket. Zoe slid it off, letting me drape it on top of mine. I liked the visual, our two garments blending together in one copulating mass.

She walked around, turning on her heel when she reached the couch. “Nice place.”

Following her eye, I smiled. “It's alright. Let me grab you a drink, you want water or something harder?”

“Harder?” she asked.

Opening the fridge, I rustled inside. “Beer, wine, vodka... unless you thought I meant something else?” Peeking out of the room, I saw how she was pursing her lips at me.

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Water is fine.” She motioned at the pole beside her. “Do you really practice on this?”

Filling two glasses, I sipped mine, handing her the other. “Not anymore.”

Her eyebrows scrunched. “Don't wanna take your work home with you, huh?”

Because I don't strip any more, I do something... else. Instead of speaking, I chugged more water. Fuck. Maybe it was time to tell her. “Zoe—”

“Can I play on it?”

I spilled some liquid—wiped my mouth. “On what, this?” Palming the pole, I gave her another look of disbelief. “Don't tell me you used to strip?”

The blue in her eyes darkened, lips coiling. “Would that surprise you?”

“Fucking—of course it would.”

Laughing, she set her glass down, drying her palms on her shirt. “Sorry to be a downer. I've played on one before, but I never danced in any clubs.” She considered me, then added, “One of my old boyfriends was a stripper.”

I inched an eyebrow upwards. “You're just full of surprises. It didn't bother you that he did that?”

Gripping the brass, Zoe tested how sturdy it was. “It paid the bills, and he was pretty fun. Dating a stripper has benefits.” Grinning at me, she shrugged. “If you're cleverly asking if it bothers me that you dance, the answer is no. I mean...” Grunting, she kicked off her shoes and put a foot on the pole. “I'll admit, the lap-dance you gave me was way more intimate than anything he ever did, that I know of. It makes me a tiny bit jealous, imagining you like that with other women.”

My heart was cramping, her words giving me weird highs of relief and plummeting despair. It was nice that she was open minded, but she had no clue. How could she even guess at what I was doing for money these days? I hadn't been very clear.

I mean, I couldn't be. Escorting like I did was illegal. I'd go to jail for prostitution if I wasn't careful. My card was intentionally vague, my clients all gained from word of mouth.

Stepping back, I watched as Zoe did a wobbly spin. The look on her face wasn't sexy, she was concentrating so hard just to hold herself up. It distracted me from my mood, and soon, I was chuckling. “You're a natural.”

“Shut up,” she said, but she was smiling, too. “Fine. Show me how it's done.”

Without waiting a beat, I approached the pole. Zoe gave me a mini-bow, too amused by the situation. I thought it was time to shift the humor into something... tastier.

Pushing my shoulders into the metal, I faced Zoe. She stepped back to allow me more room. Her interest was growing. “There's no music,” I said softly, stretching my arms over my head. “So use your imagination.” My chest pushed out, arching and causing the rows of muscles along my stomach to flex through my thin shirt.

Sinking low, I crouched and spread my legs. Zoe watched me, fixated on my movements. Not wanting to disappoint, I searched my memory for everything I'd ever learned during my brief stint in strip clubs.

Rolling my hips, I flowed like water, moving upwards until I was standing again. Dropping an arm, I inched my shirt high, exposing my stomach.

Zoe swallowed loudly.

Grinning, I peeled the garment over my head, my hair gaining that tousled look. Crushing the brass, I spun in a lazy, controlled circle, feet dancing over the floor. Easily, I lifted myself upwards, climbing until I had my thighs wrapped tight.

Watching for her reaction, I licked my lips, gyrating against the pole. I ground myself against it, giving her a show. My back muscles rippled, tattoos swimming and coming to life.

Zoe's stare was hungry, blue-fire that waited to burn my flesh. “You're good,” she said huskily.

Winking, I let my legs go, using just my upper-body to control my decent. When I landed, I pushed my hips forward. My hard-on thrust into view, plain through my jeans. Her attention shot to it, hypnotized.

I said, “Did you want a closer look?”

Nodding vigorously, she erased the distance. Shoving me against the pole, Zoe tangled her fingers in my hair, kissing me so hard our teeth clicked together.

My cock thickened, filling my briefs and challenging the strength of the material. Her hand slid over my bare skin, exploring the groove that led to my lower belly. “You probably hear this all the time,” she said, kissing my Adam's apple. “But you're sexy as hell, Huck.”

I started to chuckle, but her palm crossed over my swollen hard-on. Instead of words, a low groan floated up and out. She shivered in response, caught up in my growing lust.

Gripping the brass, I fought down my urge to grab her and get what I wanted. Part of me wanted to see what Zoe would do. Smiling, I looked down on the top of her head. Zoe removed herself from my cock, leaving me dizzy for more contact.

Her nails scratched across my ribs, hands brushing up my sides, then down to my hips. My erection flexed painful through my jeans. It needed to breathe, needed to be touched. Zoe was creating a vortex of hot desire in my loins.

The fierce vibration of a text rocketed through my pocket, surprising us both.

Glancing down at Zoe, I smiled faintly. “I'm not answering it, keep going.” Fucking fuck, who was that? Kaley, Gina, someone else?

She didn't hesitate for long, her hand caressing the front of my pants. Zoe rubbed me through the material, making me arch and growl desperately. Damn, that felt fantastic. I wanted her to go further, and she knew I did.

“Is that good?” she whispered.

“Better than anything should feel.” Licking my lips, I stared down at her, my voice rasping. “Take my cock out, babe. Go ahead.”

Shivering and pink, she popped the button and ground the zipper down. My gym shorts peeked at her, making her growl. “You're like one of those Russian dolls, clothes under clothes under clothes.”