Chapter 8

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                                                                                          Chapter 8


Hope pulled her hand from Tamara's grip. The anger was once again simmering within her. She was not angry for needing to dance. No, the anger came from the look on all their faces. Why did everyone think she couldn't do anything? She was far from a pushover and after all the feelings Striker was evoking in her, there was no way she was a frigid bitch.

When the new song started Tamara once again started her gyrating like before. Hope mentally smiled before closing her eyes, she didn't want to keep seeing the look of pity on Strikers' face. It was time to call upon all those years of dance class. Yet that wasn't the reason why she was mentally smiling.

Six months ago, Hope had been dared by Rose to take a poll dancing class. Many people don't know this about her, but she can never back down from a dare. So the dare was met with a course that lasted for three months. To her surprise, it had been a blast.

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Striker was oblivious to the inner works of Hopes mind as he looked upon her. All he cared about was the fact that the shit was going to hit the fan when she failed at dancing. There was no way he would be able to fight everyone here. He knew they were all dying for a piece of her ass.

He looked everywhere he could and tried to figure out how to get her out of there safely. When their eyes collided he frowned when she closed her eyes. Damn, he had failed her, her father and the fucking mission. This was not her fault. His frantic thought process was cut short when his rod twitched. What the fuck was she doing?

Hope was no longer before him. In her place was a Siren that called to every fiber of his soul. His eyes followed the movement of her arm as it reached up to unlatch the contraption she had rigged to hold the massive mane of hair up. He gulped as it cascaded down and her head lowered with a sway to the rhythm of the music.

In a trance, that's what it fucking felt like. He was in a trance as she swayed her hips and then proceeded to unbutton the shirt. One by one they opened to reveal her creamy skin. Skin he had touched as punishment, yet it had been punishment for him too. He had enjoyed every fucking second of feeling her soft skin under his fingertips, under his mouth.

By the time the last button opened and his shirt parted. His mouth was dry. Yet she took no pity on him as she slowly lowered the material from her shoulders. Every damn inch of her skin she exposed made it painful for him. His jeans were threatening to burst by the time the shirt finally hit the floor.

She was not done with him though. For she stood before him wearing nothing more than her panties and bra. He thanked the powers that be when he saw she was not wearing a thong. There was no way he would be able to fight the guys off if they saw what she kept hidden under the black material.

His eyes once again fell into the rhythm of her hips. Left, right, left right they swayed softly to a rhythm that was so carnal it was killing him. The only thing that brought him out of the trance was when he heard Tamara yelp. Striker turned his head in time to see Snake pull Tamara down onto his erection. Lucky for Striker he faced her away from Hope.

Stupid female had no clue she was getting hammered to fantasies of his Hope. For Snake had yet to remove his eyes from her swaying ass. Striker was a son of a bitch, but he couldn't help the smirk that stretched his lips when Snake looked his way.

He had pulled his eyes off of Hope and was stunned when she did a fancy move that landed her straddling his lap. An audible groan left his lips when she ground herself onto his stiffened member. Yet it was the moment she lifted her arms back and snapped her bra open that had him screaming out. "Hell no." He yelled as he jumped up with Hopes' legs wrapped around his waist.

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