{"id":23053,"date":"2019-05-23T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2019-05-23T13:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/?p=23053"},"modified":"2019-04-29T18:20:19","modified_gmt":"2019-04-29T23:20:19","slug":"coverreveal-unchaining-you-by-vic-tyler-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/?p=23053","title":{"rendered":"#CoverReveal Unchaining You by Vic Tyler"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\n<\/p>\n\n\n

If he hates me for what happened 8 years ago, just imagine how he feels now\u2026<\/strong>
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do I feel bad for accidentally hooking up with the one<\/em> who broke my heart?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026 No.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Should I feel bad for extorting him for a job that I need?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026 Probably.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But like I said, I need the job.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life\u2019s kind to some people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Exhibit A: Devon Leo<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hot, brooding loner in high school \u2192 hot, brooding billionaire tech tycoon who\u2019s an international mans!ut.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Exhibit Me: Skylar Kay<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Your everyday average nobody \u2192 college dropout, moonlighting stripper nobody who\u2019s drowning in debt.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The least he can do for breaking my heart is give me a job.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah<\/em>, the one I blackmailed him for.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I just didn\u2019t think the job was for a position under him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ll have to be careful not to get under him<\/em>. Again<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because this time, his reputation isn\u2019t just on the line.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart is.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Excerpt<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 1<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Skylar
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A slow, synth beat starts to thump, muted, from the speakers all around the dim room. I was hoping for something a little more upbeat since I\u2019m running on three hours of sleep, and the velvety couches lining the walls of the VIP Room are starting to look like plush black clouds at this point of the night. If I strain my ears, I can hear the enthused and muffled whomp-whomp-whomp<\/em> in the main room where everyone\u2019s hunting — for money or attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The VIP Room is just quiet enough for the patrons sparsely spread throughout the area to converse with the dancers whose time they\u2019re procuring hourly. Of course, some of them aren\u2019t really looking for conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like Bill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pudgy, leering man sitting in front of me looks up hungrily as I lean forward to fill his vision with my heavy breasts. Even though they\u2019re taped down securely, I\u2019m still paranoid that the thin, elastic straps of my black, lacy bikini are going to snap, leaving me with no more than black, lacy pasties with sad, dangly tentacles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I say \u2018bikini,\u2019 but it\u2019s the kind you\u2019d never wear in public unless you want to scandalize parents at the public pool and become a budding teenage boy\u2019s first wet dream. The kind that would never survive a cannonball, and the one that makes your nightmare of seeing your bikini pieces floating up right next to you come true. More like a skinny dip-kini.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDestiny.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bill holds out a few Andrew Jacksons, and I push my hip toward him so he can slip it into the side string of my thong. He takes his time, his dry fingers grazing roughly against my skin, taking advantage of the one opportunity during our time together that I let him touch me. After all, he\u2019s more generous with his tips when I let him brush a feel or two during our hour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lowering my voice to a sultry hum, I purr, \u201cStay for a little longer, Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He chuckles in that not smooth way — the sound gutturally choked by his bubbling lust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan\u2019t tonight, baby.\u201d He lowers his voice, trying to sound seductive. \u201cUnless you want to come home with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He arches his brow with a cheesy smile as his fingers touch his wallet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It makes me feel dirty. Very, very dirty. And not in the sexy way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For eight hours a night, a few nights a week, my sensitive bitties of skin are slapped on with cash like I\u2019m a papier-mache project. I\u2019m basically rolling around in money, and if you mix in a little paste, you can make a cash cast out of me. But let me tell you, the whole \u2018rolling in dough\u2019 thing is an idea that\u2019s only appealing to be entertained theoretically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I mean, money\u2019s pretty gross if you think about it. You never know where it\u2019s been. Stuffed in wallets, forgotten in pockets, hidden in shoes or bras, dropped in gasoline-laden puddles on the street, handled by greasy, pizza-oiled hands, rolled to snort coke, slid into a stripper\u2019s asscrack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first time I went home with a huge stack of tips, I did it. I spread out a bed of green and laid down on it. It\u2019s really not that exciting. But go ahead and try. And if you\u2019re more like me than you are Ebenezer Scrooge, you\u2019ll find out that carpeting your floor with money doesn\u2019t make it any softer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s still cold, hard cash. In a cold, hard world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I fight the urge to scrunch my nose, instead lowering them to watch my manicured fingers walk up his white dress shirt, his suit jacket lying forgotten next to him to minimize the layers between us. \u201cYou know I can\u2019t go home with customers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Can\u2019t, won\u2019t, don\u2019t want to. What\u2019s the difference? In the end, it\u2019s not going to happen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some of my clients are sweethearts. Just lonely ones. But some men, like Bill, wave around their money using the carrot-and-stick approach. The cash being the carrot, and the stick being\u2026 well, their stick. When I say I don\u2019t provide those<\/em> services, they don\u2019t back down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They raise their offer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bill\u2019s eyes travel over me as he continues fingering his bulge. The wallet, of course. It\u2019s not the only thing bulging in his pants, but at least he knows which of the two I\u2019m interested in, period.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lines in his shoulders relax as he gives up for the night and leans back against the couch. His doughy cheeks pull back into a smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShame,\u201d he drawls pointedly, hinting at how much I\u2019m missing out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Considering that chipmunk sized tent he\u2019s pitching, I\u2019m pretty confident I\u2019m not missing out on much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I hood my eyes seductively and pout a little bit. \u201cYou can always stick around for a little longer. You know how much I love spending time with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten months ago, I would\u2019ve never imagined I could make a man empty his wallet just by changing where and how I look at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I still remember my first day at Starlette when Sage, the strip club\u2019s house mom, pulled me back from making my awkward rounds waddling around the floor. It was my first wearing six-inch fuck-me heels when I\u2019ve only ever worn two-inch-high Mary Janes for church.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She pursed her lips and said, \u201cHoney, if these men wanted to look at a woman who looks as miserable as you do out there, they\u2019d go home to their wives.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She made a science out of flirtation and laughed when I whipped out my trusty pen and paper. Gave me a big \u201cmhm, you do that\u201d when I said I\u2019d go research all about \u2018the art of seduction.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even now, Sage likes to joke that her greatest accomplishment to date is turning \u201cSunday School Skye\u201d turn into \u201cDevilishly Dazzling Destiny.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flashing a toothy, hopeful smile, Bill changes tactic. \u201cThen how about dinner? Tomorrow night?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m obviously not going to get him to stay another hour tonight. Lowering my voice huskily, I brush back his hair with the lightest of touches. \u201cDating is against the rules. But you\u2019ll be the first to know if that ever changes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My own rules. Nothing against the other dancers who do date their customers. Believe me, I heard some of the cute love stories shared in the back, and even I\u2019ve dreamed about a sexy, respectful millionaire who can\u2019t resist me after a crotch grind, a motorboat, or an hour of very fulfilling conversation in the half-nude who wants to get to know the real me<\/em>. And then I remember my clientele includes\u2026 well\u2026 Bill and his ilk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No offense. Bill behaves (most of the time), and some of my regulars are nice. But even if I were interested in any of them (which, spoiler alert, I\u2019m not), my stomach doesn\u2019t get all fluttery with butterflies when they\u2019re talking about their wives and kids. A club isn\u2019t exactly ideal breeding grounds for a relationship\u2026 or breeding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That doesn\u2019t mean I don\u2019t pretend I want them. I do. I pretend hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Winking at Bill, I peel myself off the couch and straighten as I turn around, looking at him cutely over my shoulder. \u201cBesides, I wouldn\u2019t be able to handle a heartbreaker like you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He chuckles low in the back of his throat. \u201cBaby, I\u2019d never break your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I feel a little bitter on behalf of his wife. She\u2019s probably sitting home right now on a Wednesday night, helping their six-year-old son with his alphabets or maths or coloring homework, while he\u2019s here, dishing out his paycheck for a few boob shimmies and butt rolls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I shouldn\u2019t complain. After all, Bill is a platinum donor to the Skylar Kay Survival Foundation<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou break my heart every time you leave.\u201d I wink before walking away, swaying my hips and letting my ass shake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A couple of wandering eyes flit over to me as I sashay through the room. This is about as private as it gets for those who don\u2019t have enough dough to cough up for some actual one-on-one time in one of the Champagne Rooms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nothing sketchy happens back there, of course. At least, it\u2019s not supposed to. But it\u2019s not unusual for a dancer to take off her bikini top for the several extra hundreds she\u2019s getting for the same hour-long session.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve never, and I won\u2019t ever. Not because I think I\u2019m better than any of the other women (God knows I\u2019m in just as much of a shithole, if not in a worse one, as some of them). But I\u2019m just not that comfortable with exposing my nips to strangers who don\u2019t even know my real name. Only my ex-boyfriend has ever seen my bare nipples, and that\u2019s not going to change for any amount of money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I envy the girls who dance here because they love flaunting their gorgeous bodies and basking in the spotlight. But I\u2019m not one of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I love dancing — heck, I wanted to be a professional dancer — but I\u2019d rather dance with clothes on and not on a stage with a pole on it. I\u2019m a statistical cliche working here out of desperation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can always come home with me,\u201d Bill says optimistically, trying one last time as we head toward the exit. \u201cYou know I\u2019ll take real good care of you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It does make me wonder whether men\u2019s bedroom skills improve if they pay for sex. Do they try to make the most of their money? Or is it an easy done deal since the sex is an expectation?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d assume the latter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is it terrible that I assume they\u2019re mediocre at sex? Maybe even bad at it? Horrible? The lose-faith-in-mankind\u2019s-manhood kind of sex?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Either way, I wouldn\u2019t know. I\u2019ve only been around one and a half naked guys. The second one was a Tinder date that finished with a handjob that lasted twenty seconds. We took a longer time taking our pants off. Not our clothes. Just our pants. Like I said, he didn\u2019t even see my nipples.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tinder Dude definitely made me lose faith in Tinder, and I haven\u2019t even tried hooking up with anyone since. Why bother if I\u2019m just a heated, fleshy replacement for some Kleenex?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the door, the bouncer stands menacingly with his thick, meaty arms crossed, glaring at the pasty, Pillsbury Doughboy-esque businessman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bill knows the drill. He pulls his wallet out so fast, I would\u2019ve missed it if I blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I brush my fingers along his elbow as I press my boobs against his arm, drawing his attention to my cleavage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome see me again, Bill,\u201d I coo. \u201cYou know I\u2019m here from Wednesday to Saturday, eight to four.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe I should become a camgirl instead. I got the script down pat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thanks for watching my strip show! Don\u2019t forget to click on that Subscribe button to watch me fiddle my channel!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bill doesn\u2019t bother hiding his disappointment when I pull away, but the tease is what keeps him coming back every week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDestiny,\u201d he murmurs, his eyes still glued to my tits. He raises them to wink at me. \u201cYou\u2019ll warm up to me one day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Internally, I cringe. I really, really doubt it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But winking with a perfectly practiced, sugary sweet smile, I croon, \u201cSee you next week, Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

About Vic Tyler<\/strong>:
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vic Tyler is a new author of contemporary romance novels.
She has a tinkering sense of wanderlust and loves to travel to new places, explore new cultures, and most importantly, eat delicious new food (yummm). Her dreams include finally having nice handwriting, owning a collection of onesies, and making a croquembouche.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stay up to date with VT\u2019s new works  \u2192 http:\/\/eepurl.com\/dKoTO-\/<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Check out VT\u2019s books  \u2192  https:\/\/amazon.com\/author\/lovevictyler<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connect with Vic Tyler<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Website  \u2192  https:\/\/lovevictyler.wordpress.com<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Facebook Group  \u2192  https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/AuthorVicTyler\/<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twitter  \u2192  https:\/\/twitter.com\/LoveVicTyler\/<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instagram  \u2192  https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/lovevictyler\/<\/a>
<\/p>\n\n\n


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\n<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

If he hates me for what happened 8 years ago, just imagine how he feels now\u2026 Do I feel bad for accidentally hooking up with the one who broke my heart? \u2026 No. Should I feel bad for extorting him for a job that I need? \u2026 Probably. But like I said, I need the … Continue reading #CoverReveal Unchaining You by Vic Tyler<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[24],"tags":[1069],"class_list":["post-23053","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cover-reveal","tag-vic-tyler"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paSW8H-5ZP","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23053","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=23053"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23053\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23056,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23053\/revisions\/23056"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=23053"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=23053"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=23053"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}