Exquisite Redemption (Iron Horse MC Book 3) Read Free Page B

their party on with a vengeance. Even the backstage was rife with people whooping it up, but I had a group of scary-as-hell bikers acting as my bodyguards and they’d secured me my own large bubble of space no one violated.
    By now my nipples had hardened to bullets behind my black leather-looking sports bra, but not with arousal. Nervous energy zipped through my body, making my skin tingle as goose bumps rose up along my arms. The tight top held my big chest in place while I did my routine, and looked sexy as hell with the shiny studs lining the collar that went around my throat. Yeah, lots of women gave me shit about the size of my breasts, snide comments about fake tits and being a slut and all of that, but fuck ’em if they thought they had the right to judge me because of how I looked.
    Even before I got implants, I had good-sized boobs that had drawn attention, but when I’d dedicated myself to winning the World Pole Dancer of the Year title, I’d gone for it hardcore. By hardcore, I mean working out with the same dedication I showed during my pageant and figure-skating days which had toned me to the point I had very little excess body fat and a lot more muscle. That dedication to getting in shape had deflated my boobs, giving me saggy breasts at almost eighteen, and it looked really weird when I spun fast on the pole. I had to get them lifted and got double D-cup implants that were slightly larger, and a hell of a lot perkier, than my real breasts.
    I’d paid twenty-two thousand for them, a crazy amount, but they’d earned me hundreds of thousands of dollars in return and I loved them.
    The song blasting through the night began to wind down and I shook out my arms and rolled my neck, trying to burn off my nerves. I swear I could feel the roar of the crowd wash over me as the women on the stage bowed, then waved and blew kisses as they made their way to the backstage area. The hosts of the event went out on stage and talked to the crowd about some charity run they were doing tomorrow while the last of the girls strutted off. When they passed me they all smiled and wished me luck. Kaitlin, my fellow showgirl from Vegas who specialized in the trapeze, bounced up to me and gave me a brief hug then pulled back.
    I easily read her lips as she said, “You look amazing! Oh my God, you’re going to have guys creaming their jeans. Go get ’em, tiger!”
    I couldn’t help but laugh and hug her tight. She was cute as a button with her big brown eyes and pigtails that swung as she waved and headed for the trailers. A Midwestern girl who’d moved out to Vegas with a boyfriend who’d tried to pimp her, Kaitlin had been as out of place at the strip club we’d both worked briefly at as could be. While I’d grown up with an evil bitch of a mother and could handle the cattiness of the strip club, she’d been painfully naive. In a way she’d reminded me of my super shy and sheltered twin sister, Swan, and I’d made sure everyone knew if they fucked with Kaitlin, they’d have me to answer to. No one had been there to protect my innocence and tender heart, and I’d be damned if I let someone as genuinely nice as Kaitlin get hurt.
    On the stage, the announcer for the evening was pumping up the crowd for me while the bouncers made sure everyone backstage kept their distance so I could focus and get in my zone.
    What I was about to do was dangerous, and would require my intense concentration, but I excelled under pressure out of both necessity and pride.
    Every inch of my skin erupted in goose bumps as I heard my stage name, Sarah Star, blast through the wild night.
    Showtime.
    The first strains of “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica came through the speakers, clean and perfect, bringing a roaring cheer from the crowd. Just like I thought, bikers loved Metallica. I smiled as I closed my eyes and strode onto the stage, mapping the steps out in my mind as I kept my head down, the strobing blue stage lights making everything