Chapter 1: Sparks in the Spotlight
The stage lights burned hot against Vivienne Hart’s skin as she strutted across the theater, her heels clicking with purpose. She was the star of the underground burlesque scene, a woman who commanded every eye in the room with a flick of her crimson-painted lips. Tonight, though, her gaze wasn’t on the crowd—it was on him. Jace Ryder, the cocky new stagehand with a smirk that could melt steel, leaned against a prop wall, his arms crossed, watching her like he owned the damn place.
'Enjoying the view, rookie?' Vivienne purred, pausing mid-stride to toss him a glance that could’ve set the curtains on fire. Her voice was velvet, sharp with a challenge.
Jace’s grin widened, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. 'Hard not to, Ms. Hart. You’re practically begging for an audience.' He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them with a lazy swagger. 'Or is it just me you’re performing for?'
She laughed, low and dangerous, stepping closer until the heat of his breath grazed her cheek. 'Oh, honey, I don’t beg. I take. And if you think you can handle a woman like me, you’re in for a rude awakening.' Her fingers brushed the collar of his shirt, teasing, testing. The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken promises.
'Big talk for a lady who’s all glitter and no grit,' Jace shot back, his voice a rough whisper. His hand caught her wrist, not hard, just enough to make her pulse jump. 'Prove me wrong, Viv. Show me what’s under all that sass.'
Vivienne’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she yanked her wrist free, only to press herself against him, her curves molding to his frame. 'Careful what you wish for, Jace. I don’t play nice.' Her words dripped with heat, her breath hot against his ear. She could feel him tense, the hard line of his body betraying just how much he wanted this—wanted her.
The backstage shadows cloaked them as the distant roar of the crowd faded into a hum. Her hand slid down his chest, bold and unapologetic, while his fingers dug into her hips, pulling her closer. 'Fuck, Viv,' he growled, his voice raw. 'You’re gonna be the death of me.'
'Good,' she hissed, her nails grazing his neck as she tilted her head, lips hovering over his. 'I like my men a little broken.' Their mouths crashed together, hungry and fierce, a collision of want and defiance. Her tongue danced with his, tasting the whiskey on his breath, while his hands roamed her ass, gripping with a desperation that made her smirk against his lips.
She pushed him back against the prop wall, her body pinning his as she felt the heat of his cock straining through his jeans. 'Already so hard for me,' she teased, her voice a sultry taunt as she ground against him. 'Pathetic.'
Jace’s laugh was rough, breathless. 'Keep talking, babe. I’m gonna make that pretty mouth of yours scream.' His hands slid under her skirt, fingers brushing the edge of her wet heat, and Vivienne bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan—not yet.
The tension was electric, their bodies sweating with anticipation, her pussy aching as she felt herself dripping with need. They were seconds from tearing each other apart, from giving in to the raw, horny chaos building between them, when—
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