Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Stripped by Allie Juliette Mousseau


“That arrogant…” 

“Hot.” 

“Cocky…” 

“Gorgeous.” 

“Unmannered…” 

“Wild.” 

“Disgusting…” 

“Tempting,” my best friend Violet singsongs. 
“BASTARD!” 
“GOD.” 
I almost choke. There I am, in full color HD, half-drunk as Dirty-Aussie-stripper, Stone Wright carries me on stage with my legs wrapped around his waist and commences to weaken me to the point of… 
“I’d give my ovaries to have a public orgasm as explosive as that!” rich drunk lady slurs while we watch the video of my greatest humiliation on her phone. 
Oh that f*cking… “Royal… PRICK!” I scream. 

Stone Wright is Foreplay’s hottest act. While entertaining at the popular L.A. strip club known for catering to the feminine wild, the fever-inducing Aussie with the sex-saturated accent and moves to match is preparing for the audition of a lifetime on the sensational hit reality show Then Prove You Can Dance. 
When retired principal dancer and ballerina Emilie Cartier stumbles into his dressing room, she’s still reeling from the one wrong spin that altered her entire life and obliterated her dreams. 
After a humiliating public, albeit meteoric, orgasm—the kind so desperate to escape, it took over her body without her brain's permission—and a second, more intimate and deliriously deliberate one, Emilie makes a deal with Stone: he helps her get her dancing mojo back and she readies him for his national audition. 
But she insists he keeps his wily, wandering hands to himself and his dirty mouth shut. Of course, that’s going to be an extremely hard challenge—one of herculean proportions. 
Emilie is not prepared for Stone—the way he spins her mind dizzy, rocks her body into sweet oblivion or dirty dances into her every daydream—and falling in love with him is so definitely not an option. 
The closer Stone gets to Emilie, the more he realizes he’d do anything to make her his own. Problem is, he’s a real f*ck-up with relationships. And that means he’s dangerously close to becoming her next major f*ck-up. 
What happens when all of the emotional layers—along with the stage props, their dancewear and every last shred of their clothes—are ultimately stripped?

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