Not obviously — I still worked the whole stage, made eye contact with the customers who were tipping, did my job. But every time I moved, every time I arched my back or rolled my hips, I was thinking about him. About the way he'd filled me up an hour ago. About the way he was watching me now. About going home and letting him claim me all over again.
By the time my set ended, I was wet, flushed, and had made more in tips than I usually did in an entire weekend.
"Your boyfriend is intense," Mina said backstage, fanning herself. "He hasn't taken his eyes off you all night. And I think he made you, like, three times hotter somehow? The customers were losing their minds."
"He's... motivating."
"He's something." She grinned. "When you're done with him, send him my way."
"Not a chance."
Whe
