Say You're Mine: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Southport Love Stories Book 4) by Sarah Brooks (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .txt) 📕

I licked my lips and gave her a slow, seductive smile. “Would you like to eat me?” Ugh. I felt so cheesy saying it but figured I had a part to play, might as well go all out.

The woman cocked her head and then after a beat started laughing. I blinked, unsure what to do. Was she laughing at me? When she was finally able to get herself under control she patted the cushion beside her. “You’re nervous. That’s cute. Sit down. Talk to me a little bit.”

“Don’t you want me to dance for you?” I asked, confused.

She smiled, the expression was full of promise. “Eventually. But not yet. I’m a firm believer in delaying gratification. It makes things so much more...tantalizing.”

Alright then.

I sat down beside her. The chair, while deep and wide, still had me pressed up against her. I towered over her. I wasn’t a big guy but she was a small woman. I liked that about her. And she smelled good. Like honeysuckle. From my position, I could see straight down her shirt and she had one fine set of tits.

She took another slow drink of what I could now smell was whiskey. “I’ve seen you dance many times, Billy is it?”

I chuckled. “Oh yeah? I’m guessing you like what you saw otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

She laughed too. I liked the sound of it. Rich and low. Like her speaking voice. She really was hot. “I liked what I saw. More than that, I loved it.” She looked up at me. “I’m assuming Billy isn’t your actual name.” She held out her hand for me to shake, which I did so a little awkwardly. “My name is Tiffany.” She withdrew her palm delicately. “If you don’t want to tell me your real name, that’s fine, but it’s also okay if you want to tell me.”

Our stage names were our stage names for a reason. The dancers needed a level of distance between what they do on stage and their actual lives. It was a safety measure first and a privacy measure last. Darla had been clear never to reveal your real name. “These people aren’t here to know the real you. They want the fantasy you create for them,” she had said to me on my first night of work and I had been careful to remember that.

Tiffany’s eyes were a pretty blue. Her skin was remarkably unlined, but I could tell she had had work done. Botox probably from the smoothness of her forehead. “You’re a person first, Billy. Remember that.”

“Robert. My name is Robert,” I found myself saying, inwardly cringing at breaking Darla’s number one rule.

Tiffany’s answering smile wasn’t steamy or sexy or sultry. It was simply lovely. “Robert. It suits you. But can I call you Robbie?”

Ugh. I hated the nickname Robbie, but she was the one paying for this whole exchange, so I guess what the customer wanted the customer got. I nodded. “Sure.”

She took another long drink of her whiskey then handed the glass to me. “Here, have some. You must be thirsty. They sure do keep it hot in here.” She fanned her face with her hand. “I guess it makes it more comfortable when you take your clothes off.” She lifted an eyebrow and I found myself relaxing. There was something easy about Tiffany. Despite the weird situation, it almost felt like we were just two people hanging out.

I took a drink of the whiskey, enjoying the way it warmed my belly. I handed the glass back to her but she waved it off. “You take the rest. It’s already gone right to my head.”

I knocked back the rest of the drink and put the glass on the table against the wall. “Should I start—?”

“So tell me, Robbie, what do you do when you’re not taking your clothes off?” Tiffany interrupted, putting her hand on my thigh. I would have thought it an innocent gesture if not for the way she curled her fingers into my flesh. Or how close her thumb rested to my ball sack.

“I’m pre-law. I plan to go to law school when I graduate,” I found myself telling her. She had started rubbing her thumb in gentle, persistent circles. The tip of her nail brushed against the material over my balls. My groin tightened in response. I couldn’t help it. The whiskey had gone to my head and I was definitely buzzed. I had never been much of a drinker.

Tiffany’s face brightened. “Law school? Wow! You must be so smart.” She angled her body toward me, her hand inching further up my thigh until she was practically cupping my junk. This wasn’t going at all how I expected it to, but I found myself going with it. Enjoying it even. I like the way she made me feel like the most amazing, interesting man in the world. Men are egotistical creatures by nature. Get a guy talking about himself and act like it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard and we’re eating out of the palm of your hand.

No one said males were particularly deep.

“I guess so,” I shrugged, enjoying her attention.

“What kind of law do you want to practice?” Tiffany asked, seeming to genuinely care about what I had to say.

“I’m not sure yet. I have time to figure it out. But I love the law. I just want to make the world a better place.” God, I sounded like a moron.

Tiffany pressed herself closer to me. “I can see that. I knew as soon as I saw you up on that stage that you were different. You were special.” She lifted her hand from my thigh and placed her fingers on my arm. A soft touch. Intimate even. “Do you want to come back to my place?”

I swallowed thickly.

“I thought you paid for me to dance,” I questioned.

Tiffany smiled. “I paid for your