Stripe Tease Read online

  STRIPE-TEASE

  FUR-OCIOUS LUST SHORTS (TIGERS)

  BOOK 4

  NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  MILLY TAIDEN

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  Curvy Vanessa Soler, seamstress at her dad's strip club, never expected her father to bet her in a poker game. And lose! Now she's got to deal with big, bad shifters wanting to claim the prize...ie her. On top of all that, she'll have to dance. On stage. Shit just got real.

  Cash Tigris went to pick up a prize at a local curvy dancers strip club. What he found instead was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen prowling on stage, dressed in an itty bitty tigress costume, wiggling her fake tail and giving him looks that made him ready to yell the word: Mine!

  Passion flows between them from the first look, thicker than boiling lava. But when she realizes who he is, will she give in to the need to be his, or refuse to be any man's prize?

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published By

  Latin Goddess Press

  New York, NY 10456

  http://millytaiden.com

  Stripe-Tease

  Copyright © 2015 by Milly Taiden

  Cover by Willsin Rowe

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Property of Milly Taiden

  April 2015

  —For My Girls

  Teracia, Tonya, Jessica P, Jenn W, Sheri S, and Nicole V. Thank you for your support.

  Love you!

  ONE

  Vincent Tigris stared out his office window on the fiftieth floor of his high-rise hotel, Striped. The lights of the adjoining hotels blinked down the Vegas strip. He loved Sin City. It was loud, crazy, and it was where he’d made a living and gone from a tiger who’d left his father’s pride to strike out on his own to the owner of an empire.

  The sound of someone knocking on the door brought him back to the present. He knew it was his oldest son, Cash. Owning multiple successful hotels was no problem for Vincent. Being a father to three tigers that just didn’t want to settle down? That was harder to handle, especially when his mate, Suzanne, left him in charge of helping their “boys” find the right women.

  It was funny. Sort of. Maybe. Okay, not really. He’d puffed his chest out during the chat with Suzanne the previous week, telling her he could do a better job finding women for his sons than they did. His mate took him literally. Now here he was, about to send his first son to pick up his prize: a mate. He could only hope the boy had some sense and realized he’d done this for the boy’s own good. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Nah, Cash would probably want to return her the minute he realized what his father had done.

  “Come in,” Vincent called out. He turned to face the door.

  “Father,” Cash said, marching into the office with the prowl of a predator. Pride grew in Vincent’s chest. He’d raised his boys to be pure alpha males. Unlike his own father, Vincent had allowed his kids to choose their destinies. He’d encouraged them to do as they wished. Cash had taken over one of his hotels and managed it.

  “Son. Come in. Sit. Sit.” Vincent went around his desk, walking to the bar to fix his son and himself a drink, not that he needed liquor for what he was about to do. He was a strong man, and he was doing this for Cash’s future. Thank goodness Suzanne wasn’t there, or she’d laugh at his inability to say anything without a drink in his hand.

  “Are you okay, dad?” Cash asked, his voice deep with worry.

  Vincent turned to face Cash. “I’m fine.”

  It was Cash who might not be fine once he realized what his father had done. He filled two whiskey tumblers midway and brought one over to his son.

  Cash took the glass, his gaze intent and features impassive. “You needed me?”

  “Yes,” Vincent said. He took a seat across from Cash, sighing as he got comfortable on the large, black leather sofa. “I was playing poker the other day with some friends.”

  Cash’s brows drew down, deepening his frown. “And?”

  “I won something for you.”

  “Dad, you know I don’t need anything.”

  Not according to Suzanne. Suzanne felt all her boys needed a woman, and urgently, or she’d be the only one amongst her friends with no grandbabies to bounce on her lap. Suzanne had said that. Not Vincent. Nope. Nu-uh. Vincent had nothing to do with it. Not at all.

  “Well, whether you need it or not, it’s yours. I won a prize for you. All you have to do is go pick it up.” He refrained from using the word “her” so Cash wouldn’t become suspicious. As it was, his son was giving him a strange look.

  Cash sighed and nodded. “Alright. Where do you want me to go get this prize?”

  “Charlie’s Bar,” Vincent said, standing and heading toward his desk. “He’s got it for you.”

  TWO

  Vanessa Soler stared at her father like he’d grown a second head. “What do you mean you bet me on a poker game and lost? What the hell does that mean?”

  She gripped the chair in front of her with all her might. Her entire life she’d spent working at her father’s strip club, first as a waitress and more recently as the costume designer. She did not do the stage. Though Charlie’s was a different kind of joint, featuring curvy strippers, Vanessa had never felt the need to go onstage. She wasn’t a dancer. She was the kind of person that could trip while standing still. Stripping required more balance than she possessed.

  “Lower your voice, hija!”

  She huffed out a growl and pushed her stupid curls away from her face. “I will not lower my voice,” she hissed the words. “You cannot just bet me on a game, Dad. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Vanessa. I thought I had the winning hand. It was a given darling. At least he thought so. It was a sweet deal. I thought we’d pay off the mortgage on the club. Open up a few more clubs. Hell, the way it was set up, I thought we’d be rich.”

  She glared at her father. Fury simmered her blood. “I don’t care what you thought. I’m not doing whatever it is you promised whoever won. So figure your own damn way out of that problem.”

  “Look,” her father began, his shoulders slumping, “I don’t know what to do. I already emailed and called Mr. Tigris. I told him I would give him anything. You and your sister are my only family, and I cannot do that to you.”

  “But you already did!”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” His gaze dropped to his desk. “I offered him the business.”

  She gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “You offered him Charlie’s?”

  He nodded. “He refused. Said you’d be perfect for what he needed.”

  “Screw him. You can’t bet a person. That’s illegal. Even if you can bet all kinds of crazy shit in Las Vegas, I’m pretty sure the police won’t allow you to bet a human being.”

  His gaze shot up to meet hers. The torture she saw in her father’s eyes made her feel a little less angry. “Mr. Tigris has a lot of money, hija. He could do unspeakable things.”

  “What? Like the mob?” She knew she should have been checking on her father’s weekly poker games, but instead she’d been busy creating new dance costumes for the girls. It took every bit of ingenuity and creativity she had to make the curvy goddesses, as she referred to the dancers, feel sexy and look the part. M
ost big women weren’t like Vanessa. She loved her curves and wore whatever she wanted that made her feel sexy at all times. A lot of the dancers came to the club looking to make money but still feeling insecure. Vanessa turned into more than a seamstress. She was a friend and confidant, and at times even a therapist who listened and helped them solve their problems.

  “Not the mob. Tigris is too much of a by-the-book businessman for that.”

  “He’s accepting a woman as a gambling win. That’s not by the book,” she countered.

  “He’s different. He’s dangerous. His sons are too,” her father said, leaning back on his chair.

  “Well goody for him. I’m not going to be some guy’s prize. No. Not gonna happen.”

  Her father gulped and raised a shaky hand to his wrinkled forehead. “I’ll figure this out.”

  Ah, fuck. Guilt. She knew he was old and sometimes did shit expecting no repercussions, but betting his own daughter? She really needed to have him tested for senility. “Look, let me talk to the man,” she heard herself say. What the hell was wrong with her? She knew what. She couldn’t let her father deal with this on his own. “I’ll try to see if there’s any way he’ll take cash. I have savings.”

  She did. She didn’t live an extravagant life, and most men who went to the club spent a lot of money on the women. That meant she got crazy tips from the dancers as thank you’s for making them feel pretty.

  “I don’t want you to spend your money,” her father said.

  Too late for that. She had a good amount of savings. She’d give it all up if it would erase the frown from her father’s face. Plus, she was hardly a delicate flower who couldn’t get out of the problem. She wouldn’t let any man touch her unless she wanted him to. She’d figure out what to do about this. Her dad needed her to. He might not be the smartest man in the world, but he was her dad. “Let me think about my money, okay?”

  She patted his hand on the desk and sighed. Things were never boring at the club. There was always something going on.

  “There’s something else,” he said. There was more than a shiver of worry in his voice.

  She frowned, waiting for what he’d say.

  “Gabriella can’t make it tonight. She asked me to have you call her.”

  Gabriella had been with the club for a while now. Not as young as most of the women, she didn’t mess around. She got in, did her spot, and left. She didn’t sit there and try to make conversation with the clients like some girls. Gabriella was just a private person, so for her to ask Vanessa to call her couldn’t be good.

  She stood, took a breath, and let her shoulders drop. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  He shook his head, and she walked out of his office, ready to deal with whatever issue had arisen with Gabriella.

  She pulled her cell out of the back pocket of her jeans and saw ten missed calls from Gabriella. Shit. There had to be some big emergency for her to call that much.

  She dialed Gabriella back and waited, her heart hammering hard in her chest.

  “Thank you for calling me back,” Gabriella said in a rush. “I’m sorry to have called you, but I didn’t know who else to contact.”

  “That’s okay. What’s wrong?” She could tell there was a lot wrong from the wobble in the other woman’s voice.

  “I...can’t come in tonight. My cat is sick, and I can’t leave her alone.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you want me to get one of the other girls to fill in for you?” She’d done that for the girls many times. Finding a last minute replacement was easy.

  “Yes, please. My spot can’t go unfilled tonight.”

  “Don’t worry. If it’s that important, I’ll fill in for you,” Vanessa joked. She hung up and quickly got on the phone, dialing all the girls that were off for the night and asking them to fill for Gabriella.

  THREE

  It became obvious quickly that things weren’t going to be easy. Most of the girls that were off had plans, and the ones in the club were complaining about being tired. Charlie’s had a schedule for a reason. They didn’t want anyone working more than a set number of hours.

  She ran back to Charlie’s office, opening the door without knocking. “We have a problem.”

  Charlie lifted his gaze up from his paperwork. “What now?”

  “Gabriella can’t make it. If someone doesn’t fill in, we’ll have dead time.”

  She hadn’t finished talking, and Charlie was already shaking his head. “Someone has to fill in for her.”

  “Easier said,” she snorted. “I joked around telling her I’d get up on stage for her, but seriously, we have nobody.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Someone has to get up on that stage. A top event promoter and his friend are coming to the club. The friend happens to be a nightlife reporter in Vegas. We need this place doing great.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” She blew her bangs away from her face and stared at Charlie in shock. His brows rose in hope.

  No way. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “You’re our only hope. These Ivy League students spend a shit ton of money whenever they come here.”

  That part she knew. Every time college let out for a break, Charlie’s turned into a mad house. “You can’t really expect me to dance. I don’t know how to!”

  Charlie chuckled and folded his arms over his chest. “You think I don’t know you’ve been taking lessons?”

  Shit. How the fuck? She hadn’t told anyone about that. She hadn’t been dancing to get sexual. She did it as a form of exercise. It was fun, and she found it a lot more entertaining than walking a frickin’ straight line on a treadmill like she was taking a sobriety test that never ended. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Charlie sighed. “Your instructor happens to teach some of the girls here. She told me how great you were doing in class when I called to enroll a few newcomers. You’re doing great, Vanessa. You can help us out tonight.”

  This was crazy. She couldn’t—shouldn’t—get on a stage. She was one of the first people to wonder how the girls got up there and danced. “I can’t. No way.”

  She turned on her heels and ignored his calls. She marched straight to her office on the other side of the club, behind the scenes. She’d picked a small room behind the dressing area to use for herself. A quiet spot where she could breathe and get creative at the same time. This wasn’t where she sewed the costumes. This was where she came up with ideas.

  With a flick of her wrist, she slammed the door once she was inside. She should not feel bad for Charlie. He’d done this to himself. She’d asked him to sell the damn club a long time ago and retire. At his age, he should be doing something fun, like fishing or living by the beach, not stressing over bills and women not showing up for work. Now they both had bigger problems. But Vanessa wasn’t going to think about that now. If she did, she’d break something. Preferably over her father’s head.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Charlie just wasn’t the kind of man to sit around and play golf. He liked his club. It was his first and only business. He was proud of it, and she couldn’t really fault him for wanting to stay there, leading the way. It was his bad business decisions that frustrated her. She unclenched her fingers and stretched them out. Waves of cold shook her to the core. She already knew what she had to do, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. She couldn’t even worry about her father’s stupid bet anymore. She had to deal with the problem in front of her tonight. That mess could wait til tomorrow or another day.

  She glanced at her latest design, hanging from a clothes hanger on the wall: a golden tigress outfit. She’d been to the zoo recently and was inspired by the colors of the tigers and their eyes. In two steps, she was in front of the shiny spandex material. She’d created a short skirt and top to mimic the fur on a tiger in color. She’d added a bra and panties with a tail to enhance the outfit. And to add a naughty touch, she’d blinged out a collar with golden stones and added a l
ong chain for the tigress to be led around.

  Well, at least she’d be the one debuting the costume. She had used one of the other girl’s measurements to create the outfit. Though all the dancers at Charlie’s were women with large curves, they didn’t get naked. They danced and stripped to a bra and panties.

  A knock sounded at her door, and one of the girls poked her head in. “Hey, Nessa.”

  “Hi, Carmen. What’s going?”

  Carmen eyed the costume, her smile widening. “I heard you’re dancing tonight?”

  Great. Charlie must already be talking too much. Again. Would the old man never learn to quit while he’s ahead? She decided to go with the truth. “I am.”

  Carmen nodded. “Did you want some help with your makeup before I go?”

  Shit. She’d forgotten all about the makeup. She was supposed to be a tigress. She’d need her face painted. “Yes! How could I have forgotten?”

  Carmen waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you have a lot of other stuff on your mind...like why you’re doing this.”

  True. “Do you want me to come by your chair so you can do my face?”

  Carmen gave the costume another longing look. “Yes. You can dress up first so your makeup isn’t ruined.”

  * * *

  It was time. She’d been getting ready for the past hour, and now she needed to get the show on the road. Already she heard the loud sounds of the college guys drinking and whistling to the dancers. Her stomach rolled, and she thought she might be sick, but she pushed it back.

  The music changed from hip-hop to a jungle theme. She stood behind the curtain, her fingers ice cold from nerves. She’d made the lighting guy promise to try and blind her with them so that she wouldn’t focus on the men watching her. Maybe by barbequing her retinas, she’d be able to get through this without needing more therapy.