Dance for Me
by: J.C. Valentine
Publication Date: April 7, 2015
Genres: Contemporary, Romance
WARNING: Dance for Me is the first book in a trilogy and ends with a cliffhanger. Due to mature material, it is recommended for ages 17+.
What if the person who stole your heart wasn’t who you thought they were?
When my parents passed away, I grew up fast. Learning to stand on my own two feet has been a challenge, but I’m making it… my way. I make no apologies for the path I’ve chosen. My choices have served me well, but no one knows the real me.
Except one man.
He’s a mystery to me. He’s controlling, demanding, and he has me wrapped around his little finger. Anything he wants, I’ll give it to him. The hours we share together aren’t about love. It’s just sex. Hot, dirty, passionate sex. It was never supposed to be anything more than that.
Until everything changed.
Now, I’m more confused than ever. The more I learn about him, the less I seem to understand. What I do know is that I’m falling, and I have the feeling when I land, it’s going to hurt.
At the end of the stage, I grasp the gleaming silver pole and twist, pressing my back into it. The shadowed figures watching my every move hover in the darkness just beyond my reach, urging me on.
Slowly, I slide down the length of the metal bar, my legs bending at the knee and opening wide, exposing the glittering gold strip that serves as a barrier between their eyes and the most intimate part of me.
There is something about taking my clothes off for strangers that I find exhilarating. It’s the knowledge that all those eyes are focused on me, on every movement, no matter how small, and that I affect them. It gives me a sense of control, of power. I push these men to the brink, testing the limits of their willpower, and the only thing they can do is watch.
And give me their money.
Dropping to my knees, I crawl across the stage. Encased in stretchy gold fabric, my breasts sway with each movement, creating a hypnotizing effect. Men can’t get enough of breasts, and thankfully, I have plenty to flaunt.
A few feet from the end of the stage, when I have reached as far as I am willing to go, I stretch my arms across the hard, cool surface, like a cat. Making eye contact with the darkness, I’m aware that whoever is on the other side is meeting my gaze with strained desire. Easing onto my back, I lift my hands overhead and stretch my long legs into the air, opening them wide, and then closing them again. The arch of my back presses my breasts toward the ceiling. Imagining what I must look like—nearly naked, needyand wanting, my body moving and arching, calling for my love to take me here, now—makes me feel edgy and wanton. As if the little clothing I wear is too much, threatening to smother me.
I’m not an exhibitionist, but there are times like this that an almost overpowering need to push past my own limits threatens to consume me. It takes everything I have to pull back.
Rotating onto my stomach, I push up onto my knees, reach for the pole again, and pull myself up. With both hands, I lift myself from the floor and bring both of my legs up, swinging in a full circle. Bills flutter to the stage, and I feel my smile inch up, slow and seductive.
It is then that I feel Him.
I’d noticed Him my first night on the job about five months ago before I learned the importance of lighting. He stuck to the perimeter of the room, choosing the same table in the same dark corner every time. From what I could tell, he had long legs, he was tall and had dark, almost midnight hair. The air ofimportance that cloaked Him made me peg Him as a professional. Although he alternated between jeans and slacks, polos and button-downs, I remember thinking he looked like the kind of guy who should be wearing business suits—sharp, expensive, and tailored.
He isn’t a regular by any stretch, but he’s definitely a creature of habit. I’d only seen him a total of four times before I began plunging the room into darkness—and I’ve only felt his presence a handful since—but I never miss the short glass, two-fingers, neat. My stomach flutters remembering those dark, penetrating eyes focused solely on me, glued to my every move, every sway, reading my body like a book. I’d never been more turned on in my life than the day I laid eyes on him—a perfect stranger.
This had a VERY interesting twist for the CLIFFY!! Definitely has me holding my breath for book 2.
Man this was intense. The intimate scenes were erotic as hell. Sensual, intimate, dirty and raw is what I got from this story. Joe was a strong and independent woman and knew what she wanted and she went after it.
Josephine Hart is a student by day and dancer by night. Putting herself through school, she does what she must to support herself. Of course, this is all in a secret life that only she herself knows about. In this secret life, she has an admirer that loves to watch her on that stage and in private they have down and dirty and very mutually lust filled encounters. He’s rough, dominating and cold and she absolutely loves it.
Until she meets the softer side of this man in a surprise encounter and then she finds herself loving that too. His two sides feeds her desires completely and she’s torn between wanting more and trying to figure out what she truly wants. Which side to this gorgeous man REALLY speaks to her?
When she reaches her conclusion and decides to move forward, she is thrown for a HUGE loop and is left speechless. I know I was. And I was left wanting more by the end. I will await #2 as patiently as I can because I Must. Know. What. Happens. Next.
I can’t wait for the second installment in this trilogy. It was a SMOKIN’ hot read with a storyline that gripped me from beginning to end.
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USA Today Bestselling author J.C. Valentine is the alter-ego of Brandi Salazar, whose enjoyment of tales of romance spurred her to branch out and create her own.
She lives in the Northwest with her husband, their wild children, and far too many pets. As a university student, she studies literature, which goes well with her dream of becoming an editor. Brandi entertains a number of hobbies including reading and photography, but her first love is writing fiction-in all its forms.