Savage Little Games: Chapter 13

Dante told me I couldn’t work in the lounge, but that I could go hang out downstairs in the casino as long as his guards are with me. So tonight, after I was left to have dinner alone, I decide to get a little dressed up to go explore.

After a quick shower to wash off, I cake on the foundation to hide the bruises on my neck and eye. Red lipstick takes care of my busted lip that already feels much better. Leaving my long, usually lifeless hair back in Dante’s braid that’s holding up well enough, all that’s left is to put on the silver chainmail mini dress he bought me. It has a draped neckline, is low cut in the back to show off my butterfly tattoos, and there are slits on either side that go almost as high on my thigh as the thin, matching, silver thong waistband.

The two guards at the door follow me onto the elevator without a word, just phones out in their hands. I assume Dante told them to accompany me if I leave and let him know if or when that happens. Asshole.

They can follow me around all night for all I care—and report every second of what I do to the mafia king.

Not wanting to make it easy on them, I decide right then and there on the elevator where we’re going.

I doubt the guards will enjoy watching men take off their clothes, but that’s too bad.

I’ve never had a chance to see Gavin perform, so tonight is as good as any to watch him dirty dance on stage shirtless, hopefully pant-less, too.

God knows I’ve wanted to see his body from the day we met. But I was always working nights or too tired on days off to come for his eleven-thirty stage time. Oh, and I had a boyfriend who probably wouldn’t have been happy about me ogling a stripper.

The male strip club is just a short walk from the lounge where I worked, which is why Gavin came by to have a drink or shots most nights when he was working.

Inside the male strip club, I ask for a table and, since it’s early, end up as close to the front as possible during a bad cop’s dance on stage. A moment later, there’s a whiskey sour in my hand—put on Dante’s tab of course. I glance around and find the two guards standing on either side of the doorway.

Unfortunately, I didn’t come prepared with dollar bills. Still, I’m happy to sit back and enjoy the show, not inclined to be one of the rabid women surrounding the stage, waving bills, or stuffing them in G-strings.

A sexy fireman comes out after the cop, which isn’t a big surprise. But then, I get to see the main attraction.

Gavin struts out on stage wearing a long, burgundy, silk robe. It’s wide open in the front, revealing a teasing hint of his sculpted, waxed pectorals and washboard abs. The robe is paired with matching silk pants. Sure, he looks hot in the outfit, but it’s not until his first hip thrust that I see the appeal of the extremely thin, smooth fabric.

The loose pants reveal the shape of his very long, very thick cock. Jesus, I can even see where his crown begins in the outline. He’s not Dante’s size, but damn. It’s a lot to swing around, and swing it does. Up and down, right to left, left to right. His face is pretty, but his crotch is mesmerizing.

I’m not the only one entranced. Women are now flocking to the stage, three people deep all the way around it, waving more than dollar bills in his direction. Some hold up Benjamins, some wave their panties. A few hold up…condoms? Wow.

Now I get why he gets tipsy every night to deal with this sort of shit. How will they act when they get their hands on him?

Gavin is nothing more than a life-sized Ken sex doll for these women to play with for a night before they go back to their boyfriends, husbands, or single lives.

They just want to have sex with him, not get to know him. I doubt if they even want to know his name.

Men do the exact same thing to women every day in the real world, but that doesn’t make it okay to do it to the men here.

I want to get up and leave, really, I do. But Gavin is always inviting me to watch him, so I plan to stay until the end of his dance so I can tell him I came.

After removing his robe, he drags a chair on stage, causing the women to shriek so loudly I temporarily go deaf. Throughout the next several minutes of his gyrating and floor humping, Gavin’s eyes occasionally survey the room as if he’s picking out the woman who will get a very public lap dance. When he’s back on his feet, his gaze moves over to where I’m still seated calmly at the table behind the crowd of enthusiastic women. Gavin does a double take, then a wide grin spreads across his face.

He crooks a finger at me, making all the females in the room sigh or groan in disappointment.

I don’t bother refusing. No, I enjoy the pretty man’s attention way too much. Talking to him is one of the best parts of the nights working in the lounge.

Getting to my feet, I head straight for the stairs on the side of the stage.

Once I’m there, Gavin gestures for me to sit, then immediately straddles my waist, not sitting on me, but with only a hairsbreadth between our bodies. With his feet still planted on the floor, he does a full body roll, dragging his pajama covered crotch up my stomach and chest, all the way up until his hard cock smacks into the bottom of my chin through the silk pants. When I tense up, there’s a twinge of pain in my sore ribs and then it’s gone.

I would’ve been insulted if any other man slapped me in the face with his dick, but this man, not so much. The fact that he’s rock hard also goes to my head. Gavin once told me that it’s technically illegal for men to be in a “discernibly turgid state” in public, even if their hard-on is covered up, so the male entertainers try to keep calm as much as possible.

The stripper gives me a wink after showing me he’s hornier than allowed tonight.

“It’s your fault if I get arrested,” he says, giving the end of my braid a tug. “You look delicious in this tiny dress. I could eat you up.” His eyes lower to the dip in the front where I’m not wearing a bra. “What do I have to do for a taste, Van?”

Grinning up at him, I shake my head and laugh at his ridiculous flirting. No wonder he makes big bucks every night. When he stands so his erection taps my chin three times in a row, I grab his hips to pull him down to make him stop.

He plops back down, his weight and ass now on my thighs, his legs on either side of mine, hands gripping the back of the chair. While he’s seated, I run my hands up and down his washboard abs and hard pecs that are smooth and slick with sweat and oil. He smells like a tropical paradise. One I could lick from top to bottom.

Jesus. Watching Dante swaggering around his bedroom naked has me more worked up than I realized, which is a major problem. It’s only been two days! How will I survive seventy-four more?

Pushing those thoughts aside, I decide to enjoy myself now, in the moment.

“You’ve made every woman in here very thirsty,” I inform Gavin, as if he’s not well aware of that fact.

Grabbing the back of my head, he pulls my face to his chest forcing my nose and mouth to rub up on his slick flesh. I can’t resist taking a deep sniff of him so close. “Drink up, Van.”

I do want to, but I don’t, at the same time. I’m so much older, and it’s wrong to go around licking strange men. Although, I guess Gavin is sort of a friend. An acquaintance. It’s inappropriate to lick acquaintances even when they have perfect bodies.

The most pressing thought in my head, unfortunately, is Dante. Sure, antagonizing him is fun, but I can’t push him too far or he’ll kill Gavin. Probably Mitch too, for spite.

That’s the biggest reason why I keep my tongue in my mouth and shake my head.

“You know you want to,” Gavin says while his hips dip and roll seductively.

I poke my index finger in his abs. “You’re playing with fire, and you know it.”

“But I’ve been waiting so long to play with you.”

Before I can comprehend those words, he tips the chair backward, riding me, and it, down to the floor. My ribs protest loudly at the movement, but they can go to hell right now. I will not let those Russian assholes take this sexy moment from me, this feeling of being wanted.

As Gavin continues pantomiming fucking me, he, occasionally, spanks my mound with the bat he’s swinging between his legs. Thankfully the bottom of the chair and his body blocks the audience from seeing up my dress since the hem is nearly at my hips thanks to those slits on the sides. But Gavin can see them. He stares down at the junction of my thighs says, “Nice panties. Are they wet yet?”

“What do you think?” I reply, a blush now spreading across my nose and cheeks as he keeps rolling his hips in that teasing way.

“I think I want to rip them off of you.”

“Rip them off?” I repeat. Is this some part of his flirting or is he serious? I can never tell with Gavin.

It’s becoming harder to think. Between his thin silk pants and my thong, there’s not much separating where our lower bodies want to fit together. If he keeps slapping my clit, I’m going to come right here on the stage floor.

Gavin is panting above me, and I’m starting to think it’s not just from the dancing. He’s worked up too, which is unbelievable.

Suddenly, the screams and cheers are cut off like someone flipped a switch. The feisty crowd is suddenly so quiet it’s eerie. All I can hear is the pounding of the bass in the song that’s still playing.

“What the—” Gavin says as he glances over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, the stripper’s heavy body is lifted off of me, leaving behind a rush of cool air.

There’s no elegant way to get up from an upside-down chair lying on the floor. I roll to my side, wincing. I stay on my hands and knees a moment before slowly getting to my feet because of rib pain. By the time I’m standing, Gavin is being forced backstage thanks to Dante’s fingers that are wrapped around the back of his throat.

Just great. I knew Dante would be pissed when he found out I came down here. I just didn’t think he would turn violent. Or catch me in the act.

I hurry to follow the two men, finding them in the hallway backstage where Dante has Gavin’s face kissing the wall thanks to his fingers wrapped around his throat. Well, he would be kissing the wall if his cheek wasn’t plastered to the surface.

“What the do you think you’re doing?” the mafia king shouts in the dancer’s face.

“He was just doing his job!” I tell him while keeping a safe five-foot distance from them. The last thing I need are more bruises. “Let him, go, Dante!”

Without turning his head to face me, he growls, “Get back upstairs. I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’m not your child or dog. You can’t command me,” I remind him. “And you…you are acting fucking insane right now. It was just a dance!”

“The stupid son of a bitch was fucking you into the floor when you have bruised ribs!”

“I didn’t…I didn’t know her ribs were bruised,” Gavin chokes out.

“I’m fine!” I assure them both.

“I’m not fucking fine with it,” Dante grits out while still sharing breath with Gavin. In fact, he pulls him from the wall just to ram his face into it again and again.

“Dante, stop! Please!” I beg him before he busts the stripper’s head open.

He gets in one more slam then releases Gavin who slumps down the wall onto his knees, gasping.

Dante barks out two names and guards appear from nowhere. “Take him to the basement and string him up.”

“Dante, no! You can’t!” I exclaim as the men in black each grab one of Gavin’s arms to lift him up off the floor.

Now Dante’s furious face turns toward me, his blue eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them. “I can’t ?”

“You…you can’t hurt him for having a little fun, doing a stupid little dance.”

When the two guards stop, as if deferring to me, the mobster releases an actual growl. “Take him now!” he instructs them, and they instantly comply, dragging Gavin out the back exit.

“I’m so sorry, Gavin!” I call out. “I’ll…I’ll do what I can to get you out of there.”

“Out?” it sounds like he asks, as if he has no idea the fate that awaits him in the basement dungeon. And it’s all my fault.

Once the door slams shut behind the three men, Dante’s voice deepens several octaves when he says, “I don’t take orders from you or anyone else. Shall I send for Mitchell to go down and keep your friend company?”

“No.” It’s hard not to call him out for what he is, but I bite my tongue, knowing it’s a promise not an idle threat.

“That’s what I thought.” A second later his phone is in his hand as he commands me. “Let’s go.”

When I hesitate, he glances up from the device to ask, “Unless you want to continue your night of fun so I can drag more men down into my basement?”

I grit my teeth to keep from calling him an asshole. His expression is smug when I start toward the exit.