Blood/Stryker Duet (Print)

Blood/Stryker (Print)
Marteeka Karland
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Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Stryker

There was no possible way for Stryker to ignore the little pixie dancer twirling around the pole half naked. He’d been watching her every fucking night she’d worked for a couple of months now, unable to take his focus someplace else. Glitter was not a woman he’d normally pursue. She was too innocent for the likes of him. He’d known it from the moment she plopped herself down in the chair across from his desk and told him her name was Glitter. And that, yes, that was her real name. Laugh at his own peril.

But here he was. Prowling the main room at Salvation’s Angels instead of checking on things over at the Playground. So he could watch Glitter’s set. Or, more accurately, so he could watch Glitter. Period.

The girl haunted his dreams. She wasn’t what one would call a classic beauty, but she had a force of personality that everyone she met loved and wanted to soak up. When she danced on stage, she was a temptress. When she played off stage, she was like a little kitten. Stryker wasn’t normally attracted to the bubbly type, but Glitter was more than just her personality. He had no idea why, but underneath the sex appeal he sensed a vulnerable woman. There were times when Stryker could see her scanning the room when she thought no one was watching and she just looked… tired. Especially when she had to mediate one squabble or another with the girls in the dressing room. It was that vulnerability that fascinated Stryker and made him want Glitter with everything in him.

Well, tonight he was going to have her. He was a patched member of Salvation’s Bane, and she was an employee at Salvation’s Angels. They weren’t supposed to fraternize with each other, but Stryker wasn’t above bending a few rules. Thorn might kick his ass if he found out he’d fucked the bubbly little dancer, but it would be worth it. And any man who wouldn’t risk the wrath of his president to sample a woman didn’t want to taste her bad enough.

Finally, Glitter sashayed her sweet ass out onto the stage in front of the long runway. She was dressed as a naughty kitten, complete with a long, silky tail she twirled when she walked. When she turned around, she made the fucking thing dance as she shook her ass and snapped her hips back and forth like a belly dancer. As always, she had the crowd mesmerized with sexual electricity.

As she revealed inch after inch of creamy, lightly freckled skin, Stryker became wound tighter and tighter. He wanted her. Wanted her with a fierce passion that bordered on the insane. The mere fact that other men were watching from the floor below her nearly put him in a killing rage because they coveted what he considered his. Which was insane, because he would never let any woman of his work in a place like this. Not because he thought it was beneath her. On the contrary. He was proud of her. She was the most beautiful, most desirable woman there, and she should be proud to show everyone how truly gorgeous her body was. No. He’d never let her work here because he was a jealous son of a bitch. While he had no problem showing off his woman in public, he needed to be at her side when she stood there naked. Every man in the fucking place might know they could look, but he’d kill anyone who even thought about touching.

He watched Glitter as she danced, twirling around on the poles, spinning upside down in only the garter that held her tips. Her thong had long since come off. God! The things he could do to that lithe little body of hers! He’d fantasized about so many things since the first day he’d laid eyes on her. When he finally fucked her, it was going to take days to explore everything he’d imagined. Weeks even.

They were on the second of three tiers in Salvation’s Angels. Glitter always worked tier two. Occasionally she allowed a patron to take her to tier three for a lap dance, but it was rare. In fact, he’d only known of two times she’d done it. Both times the money she’d turned in as the house’s take had been astronomical.

The first tier of the club was like any other strip joint. The women kept on their thongs and generally went about topless the whole time. Lap dances were closely monitored, and the hands-off rule was strictly followed. Tier two was for patrons who were willing to pay more for admission, and dollar bills were swapped in favor of tens. But the girls were nude, there wasn’t an enforced hands-off policy on that tier. The girls didn’t have to allow touching if they didn’t want to be, but most of them enjoyed the interaction, and those who didn’t usually worked the first tier anyway.

The third tier was where the more uncensored lap dances were bought. Penetration was prohibited, but there had been more than one woman who’d allowed things to go further than strictly allowed. As manager of the club, Stryker gave the girls on this tier free rein. If they wanted to let their patron pay them for sex, who was he to stop it? As long as it was consensual and no one went blabbing to the cops, he couldn’t give two fucks. And the patrons paid enough for the privilege of being on that third floor that he knew they weren’t going to go to the cops. Any who might… well. They didn’t get as far as the second tier. The only hard and fast rule was that members of Salvation’s Bane were off limits. Not that the brothers would immediately claim a woman they’d fucked, but the Angels were a huge draw. If word got out there were brawls over women, they’d lose the wealthier clients who wouldn’t take kindly to the police raiding them every fucking night.

Tonight, Stryker decided he was going to take advantage of his role as manager and boss of the club. Maybe he wouldn’t get Glitter to let him fuck her, but he was getting a lap dance, and it would likely keep him awake at night with a horrible case of blue balls for a very long time.