Dancing for the Mob Boss

  Dancing for the Mob Boss

  Candy Quinn

  © 2015 Pathforgers Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved. If you downloaded an illegal copy of this book and enjoyed it, please buy a legal copy. Either way you get to keep the eBook forever, but you’ll be encouraging us to continue writing and producing high quality fiction for you. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Michelle Keep. All cover art makes use of stock photography and all persons depicted are models.

  This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only.

  All sexually active characters in this work are over 18 and all sexual activity is between non-blood related, consenting adults.

  More information is available at Pathforgers Publishing

  Content Warnings: Creampie, breeding, bad boy alpha male, stripping, mobster

  Length: 11074

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  About This Book

  When Luc walked into the stripclub I was dancing at, I couldn't help but be attracted to him. But when he brings me to the champagne room and I feel that he's packing in more than one way, I should've hightailed it out of there.

  Instead, he took me back to his hotel room to discipline me for going too far with him in the club, only for him to confess his true desires. To implant his seed in my fertile womb, hard, raw, and unprotected. And he's so sexy and powerful – a real mob boss – that I don't want to refuse him anything.

  Excerpt:

  “Shh, it’s okay. Just a little bit more,” he said before the next smack of his hand landed, and he continued to spank me, lightly at first, bringing that blood to the surface and making my pale flesh go rouge. I looked over my shoulders at him, at my ass, and shuddered as the sting went through me.

  Another came, and that powerful mobster just exacted the price for my indiscretions. My out of control lusts that had made me break the rules for the first time in my life.

  But he was just warming me up, getting my nerves primed and ready for the true assault.

  It made the spanks of earlier seem like childsplay as his hand cracked down upon my supple ass with such force it drove me forwards and I nearly collapsed at the shocking and quick punishment.

  “No!” I cried, but there was no one to hear me. We were alone in his penthouse, all but his guard completely blocked out from hearing my cries.

  And a swanky hotel, for the penthouse? I was almost positive it had to have some soundproofing for the wealthy clientele. Especially when they included the mob.

  Table of Contents

  Dancing for the Mob Boss

  Special Offer

  About Candy Quinn

  My Other Stories

  Dancing for the Mob Boss

  “You are the hottest girl in this club tonight,” I told myself in the mirror, looking over my bright blue eyes beneath three layers of fake lashes and more mascara than anyone needed. With my ruby lips, dark hair, and porcelain skin, I knew I had to be someone’s type.

  But I’d been on my shift for three hours, gotten twenty seven rejections, and had another five hours to go.

  That was how it went as a stripper. Sometimes the guys wanted you, sometimes they didn’t.

  It was my job to turn their no’s into yes’s, but that was easier said than done when my boyfriend of three years just dumped me and I felt like a pile of shit.

  “You are the hottest girl in the club,” I said again, more sternly. I had to believe it. If I couldn’t even convince myself of that, how was I going to convince anyone else?

  Mark came up behind me, his voice hard and distracted.

  “You’re up after Sparkle.”

  “Yea, one more song, right?”

  “Yea. Same set?”

  I nodded my head, pushing a bang back with a rhinestone clip as I looked over myself. I’d chosen black leather with rhinestones, and it gave me a bit of a badass edge which I appreciated. My hands ran over the flat of my stomach before I turned, looking over my ass. I was a thin girl, but toned. I stayed in shape though the gym and pole dancing. With skin as fair as mine I had to do something to stand out.

  I looked up at Mark who was growing increasingly bored. It was always strange to me how desensitized the DJ could become to the sight of naked women’s bodies and tried to tell myself it wasn’t just because I looked hideous.

  Self-confidence could be a real bitch.

  “Same set,” I agreed, getting excited for the break in the rap and the hip-hop. Typically I was a dance and techno girl, but tonight I needed something harder and angstier.

  He went back to his booth, settling in before announcing, “And that’s the hot little Sparkle! Remember, guys, you can take her for a private dance or get really intimate in the champagne room.” He tried to sound enthusiastic, but after repeating that every ten minutes or so for the last few hours, it lacked oomph.

  But the moment I heard the opening chords to my first song — the rhythm pumping my heart up and making me feel so alive — I couldn’t wait to get on stage. I felt like a diva, and all the lights were on me.

  I strut out to the stage, my black Maryjane stilettos carrying me steadily, fishnet tights clinging to my thighs. With each step, my leather and rhinestone skirt fluttered above the cusp of my ass, and my smile grew.

  Walking up those few steps, onto the stage, I was a Goddess among men unworthy of my attention.

  No longer was I sweet little Alice. No, I had fully become Ruby, and my clear eyes met each of those in the crowd.

  Long legs carried me towards the pole, the thing I was most confident about. I wanted to start out slow, though, like the beat of the music before the crescendo. My spine pressed against the pole as I looked out to the crowd, my legs parted as I let my body roll down the pole’s length before I was on my knees. Crawling forward, I pushed my ass back.

  Guys loved that. It looked like I was taking them doggy style, and I could make my face contort into such a wanton expression of pleasure.

  I practically moaned against the music as I rolled onto my back, arching it and letting them look me over as I writhed against the ground. My hands ran over my bare stomach, up to cup my breasts, squeezing them a little as my face tilted towards the crowd.

  Most of them were still rather ambivalent and I had a moment of despair before I caught the eyes of the night manager, Tom, talking to someone I’d not seen before. And it wasn’t the usual conversation. It was friendly, cordial, and the other man looked good.

  High class.

  I licked my lips and pushed down my fear of rejection, standing before instantly going up on the pole.

  I had a target now. Someone to perform for.

  Crawling up that large pole got the attention of some of the crowd, my toned thighs gripping the pole between them as I wriggled. My smile broadened with the growing attention, and the beat got louder, faster. It was all working together to build to something amazing, and I let my body drop so I was upside down, clasped onto the pole with only my legs.

  My hands went to my back, fingers working at the bra clasp before I got it open. I gathered the bra before it could reveal my breasts, though, because I wanted to tease. For them to know how close they were to seeing my perky tits and the hard, pink nipples beneath.

  More than that, I wanted to get the attention of my target.

  It didn’t take long. One of the men in the crowd was getting impatient and cried out for me to, “Take it off!”

  The target looked at me, watched as I smiled at him and l
et that bra drop away from my chest.

  I hoisted myself back up, spinning around the pole, and performing such a beautiful little act for him. I was powerful on the pole, that was where I felt most at home, and once I had him in my snare, I knew he would be captivated.

  He clasped his hand on Tom’s shoulder, motioning to me, and there was a soft conversation before Tom gave him a nod and moved towards the side of the stage.

  I spun my way down the pole, my hips circling and back arching as I showed off my ass, bare breasts cupped around the pole and reflected in the mirror ahead of me.

  Next, my fingers worked into the skirt, feeling over my soft skin and tugging down the leather and rhinestone material to show off the slutty little thong beneath. My eyes went back to Tom’s friend, and saw he’d moved onto one of the couches, alone and getting comfortable.

  It only took a few moments before another dancer approached him, trying to sit in his lap, but he gently rebuked her advances, his eyes on me all the while.

  I had a good feeling about it. About him.

  My fingers went down to my covered pussy, rubbing over it for a moment as I tilted my head to the side, licking over my lips. He gave me such a smile, and even from the stage I could see he was handsome. If I was working the floor, I might have passed him up with how much of a wreck I felt. You might think it was harder getting turned down by the ugly, old men, but no, it was way worse getting turned down by the hot guys.

  The hot guys that really knew how to fill out a suit.

  I’d almost lost track of the rhythm of my songs as I watched him, dancing only for him, but then I heard the DJ.

  “That’s the ravenous Ruby! Remember, guys, you can take her for a private dance or get really intimate in the champagne room.”

  I grabbed for my bra and skirt, along with the few tips I’d managed, before I went right over to my beckoning manager.

  “Hey, Ruby,” he said in his baritone voice. “Luc over there,” he motioned towards the man he’d been talking to, “is in from out of town. He owns the chain, and requested you. Don’t fuck this up, don’t do anything illegal, don’t...”

  He kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes were on Luc, and that mischievous smile he had upon his gorgeous face.

  I nodded to Tom absently. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I moved towards my target, breasts still bared and the nipples so stiff at the prospect of making some real money.

  “Hi,” I said as I knelt next to him, not being so presumptuous as the other dancer I’d seen him shoo away. Not that I didn’t believe he wanted me in his lap. My eyes ran over his body, over his strong brow, his powerful jaw, his full lips.

  He reached out, brushing his finger along my arm, over the raven tattoo I had there.

  “What’s it mean?” he asked, and his voice was accented. I’d guess Russian, perhaps, but I wasn’t sure over the loud music that had turned from my metal into some watered down rap.

  “Protection,” I said with a small smile. “It’s supposed to bring power and protection.”

  Those fingers of his slid up my arm, along to my shoulder. He was masculine, strong, but his fingertips weren’t rough so much as just hardened. He lightly stroked my hair and seemed to take some time to appreciate me up close, as if checking to make sure I was real and not the product of some stage effects.

  The smile that grew upon his face said he got the answer he was hoping for, and I was still as flesh and blood and real as ever.

  “A beautiful woman like you deserves all the protection she can get,” he said approvingly, letting his arm slide in behind me, holding me. “I didn’t expect to find such a magnificent women here. You’re more than a cut above the rest of the dancers, Ruby,” his compliments delivered in that rich, masculine husk of his, making them sound all the sweeter.

  I really liked his voice. I don’t know why, but I had always found voice really important in a man.

  But it was business, not pleasure, I reminded myself, though there was no harm in enjoying it a little. Dancing for handsome men was always a secret high for me, knowing they thought I was so hot they’d pay for me to be naked when I would have done it for free...

  I smiled brightly as my hand rest against his shoulder gently.

  “Thank you, Luc,” I purred sincerely, my clear blue eyes finding his, fluttering over them. “Do you have any tattoos?”

  “A few,” he said to me smoothly, letting his fingers trace along my collarbone, enjoying the soft feel of my skin. “But seeing as I am not the dancer in this scenario of ours, mine are not so easily shared,” he said with a light humour to his voice, his eyes soaking me up.

  In a space devoted to watching the bodies of beautiful women, he had a way of making me feel like I was the only one in the entire place. His intense gaze was unwavering as he sized me up.

  “How about I take you up for a private dance, hmm?” he said in that husky, accented voice of his. “You are working after all, it would be inconsiderate of me to monopolize your time with no reward.”

  I nodded as I leaned in, bringing my lips to his ear, “We could go to a room if you like,” I offered. “There’s bottle service there.”

  I pulled away, fluttering my many layers of fake lashes at him, smiling so sweetly.

  “Yes,” he said, looking me over, watching the motions of my lashes, how I sat there topless beside him. “Something nice and private. The club is too noisy and crowded to enjoy time with so beautiful a lady,” he remarked in that accent which was growing more alluring every moment he talked to me.

  He stood up, and in such an old-fashioned, gentlemanly manner, he extended his hand to take mine and helped me up off the seat.

  My bra and skirt were still draped over my wrist, and I couldn’t help but feel some excitement in my chest. Not just for the money, though that was clearly there as well. No, he had an aura to him that was drawing me in, making me forget all my cares and concerns as I took his hand.

  He was so warm, and strong, and I found myself standing a bit nearer to him than needed. Even normally I gave my clients some space, but I simply wanted to feel him against me.

  He obliged so nicely, keeping that strong hand of his upon my hip as he guided me over to the stairs. I worked that club most days each week, yet still I let him show me the way. I didn’t even need to do the usual fuss, since he owned the damn club franchise. He was let on through, but dispelling any concerns of mine that it might leave him entitled and cheap, he pulled a roll from his own jacket of hundreds, and handed it to me.

  “In case I get so caught up in your beauty later I forget to pay you,” he said smoothly, that broad, masculine face marked by such a handsome smile.

  It surprised me, but I tried not to let it register on my face as I took the offered cash and tucked it into my purse. I was smitten, and I bit down on my lips as we went past the open booths and towards the highest point of the club. It was just above the DJ booth, away from the heavy bass of the speakers, and overlooked the stages. It was huge and well decorated with soft pillows and lighting, with couches along the back and side. A table was in the centre, glowing slightly, and a bottle of champagne awaited us.

  I wondered if it was the real stuff, but tried not to look greedy as he pulled the curtain across and left us in relative comfort and privacy. The glass was mirrored on the outside, so none could see us, and I knew the only way anyone was coming in was if he invited them.

  The bouncers checked on us all the time with clients to make sure we got up to no dirty business, but this wasn’t just any old client, after all.

  He escorted me to the couch, helping me take a seat before he went to the champagne, took a look at the label then went about serving it all by himself. Most men left that sort of task to me, but not him. He was all class.

  Pouring up some into that fluted glass, he handed it to me first before returning to serve his own up. It also gave me the opportunity to see part of a tattoo that ran from his arm up to his hand. I c
ouldn’t quite make out what it was, or what significance it had by that little glimpse of its edge, however.

  “How has working one of my clubs been for you?” he asked me, sounding warm despite the deep, dark tone of his masculine voice. More importantly, he seemed genuinely interested.

  I leaned back, not bothered at all by my own toplessness or the fact that I was clearly sizing him up. I crossed my legs, the fishnets making them look more toned and shapely.

  He joined me and I curled in towards him, wanting his warmth pressed against me. I couldn’t help it. He was probably ten or more years older than I was, with a lot more culture and class, and as I rested my hand on his chest, I could tell he was cut.

  “It’s the best club I’ve worked at,” I said truthfully. The staff looked out for me, the money was good, what more did I need?

  His thickly muscled arm went back around me as he got comfortable upon that sofa with me. He leaned in, slowly inhaling the scent of my hair as he let the ebon locks stroke his cheek.

  “That is good,” he said in his accented voice, the words hard but said so warmly. He sipped the champagne with me, and I knew it was the real deal.

  “Have you been working here long? Special women such as yourself are so hard to find, and worth holding onto,” he said.

  I curled into him, sipping the champagne in one hand, the other stroking along his chest. He smelled so good and masculine, some scent I hadn’t words for. Spicy and seductive, kind of dark, if I were to try.

  “Just the last few months.”

  I looked at him, over his skin, caressing him with my gaze as I relaxed and pressed my almost nude body against him.

  I normally felt so calm with my nudity, but he was making me squirm, my body growing heated against his.

  We could hear the music of course, and see the shows going on below through the glass, but Luc’s attention was purely upon me. That’s what made things so complicated for me. Having such a masculine and clearly wealthy man so focussed upon me, taking such a keen interest.