The first had been bad enough. She’d seemed so into it, as if stripping came as easily to her as breathing. She’d effortlessly teased the crowd and they’d responded by tossing fistfuls of money in her cage. The act had become more and more explicit until she’d practically been masturbating for everyone to see—and dammit, even as I’d hated it, I’d gotten so hard for her that walking had become impossible. About the only thing I’d been capable of was walking up those steps and yanking her out of that cage to cover her with my arms. I hadn’t done it, though I’d been sorely tempted. Then I’d watched her change from a playful temptress into a scared version of the Carly I knew, and I hadn’t been able to get to her fast enough. All I’d wanted to do was stay by her side and make sure she was okay. But I couldn’t. Even if Marco and the others took me at face value that Carly was mine, that didn’t mean I could reject their kind of gifts.
