I watch him as he spins around the pole before locking his eyes on mine once again.
“You mean, you’ve never worked one of these rooms before?”
“Nope. And guess what, you’re my first client. So… boss, what’s it to be?”
I push from the wall and stalk toward him, looking at his pained face through my lashes.
“You didn’t really get to see me in action last night, did you? Did you just want to see if I’m up for the job, or…” Reaching out, I cup his already hard length though the fabric of his jeans. He gasps in surprise, his eyes going incredibly wide for a second. “Or would you like the full experience? This must be all kinds of uncomfortable right now.”
Backing away from me, he falls down onto the bench and drops his head into his hands.
It doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t just bolt for the door.
As I stand and watch him, I realise he’s fighting an internal battle with himself.
His body is screaming yes, that much is obvious. But his head, that’s in a whole other place right now.
“You look tense. You should probably sit back and relax.”
I gesture to the camera that I know is pointing at us and request that the music be turned up. I think our time for talking is over.
8
Spike
I keep my eyes locked on the floor as I ask myself why I didn’t just walk out, dragging her barely-clad body behind me.
Some fucked-up part of me wants this torture to continue, although fuck knows why.
I shouldn’t be in a room alone with her dressed like that, let alone one that’s filled with low, sexy music and a fucking stripper pole.
This is wrong. So very wrong.
I can almost feel Zach’s hands wrapping around my neck as I sit here, but still. I don’t leave.
Suddenly the music gets louder and she moves before me.
Unable to resist, I look up.
I somehow manage to swallow down the groan as I take her in. Her back is pressed up against the pole as she slowly slides down, her knees widening as she hits the floor.
Fuck. Me.
Dropping my hands, my fingers wrap around the soft fabric of the bench and my nails dig into the wood on the underside.
Her movements are hypnotic, and as I watch her hips roll against the pole, I forget about who she is and all the reasons why I shouldn’t be watching her move the way she is right now.
Sitting back, I rearrange myself in my trousers and keep my eyes on her, totally fascinated.
I’ve seen plenty of dancers in my life. Hell, I’ve spent more time and money in these back rooms than I’d admit to most people, but I can honestly say that I’ve never been quite as captivated as I am right now.
Her feet never leave the floor, but she doesn’t need any of the fancy moves I’ve seen before.
My eyes find hers after she’s spun around the pole once more, and I take in the accomplished smirk on her face.
I want to ask her if she’s proud of herself, but I can’t force my lips to move—not that she’d hear anyway over the volume of the music.
She takes a step toward me and my heart damn near jumps into my throat.
Her eyes hold an intent that equally excites me as it does scare me.
Dropping my gaze down her body, I run my eyes over her slender neck, down to her barely contained tits. Biting down on my bottom lip until I’m sure I’m going to break through the skin, I try to push the image of her perfect rosy nipples from last night from my mind.
My cock throbs as I recall quite how desperate I was to suck one into my mouth to discover if she tasted as sinful as I imagined.
I go lower, finding her slim waist and toned stomach before my eyes lock on the lace that’s wrapped around her hips. Her thong is tiny, to the point it’s almost not worth bothering with, but it’s the garter belt and stockings that really have my mouth watering.
The second she’s in front of me, her scent assaults my nose, ensuring that she steals all my senses.
Her delicate hands land on my shoulders, pushing me back until I’m resting against the bench.
I watch in a daze as she places one knee beside my thigh and then the other.
My arms remain useless at my sides, although my fingers itch to touch her. To feel how soft and warm her skin is.
But I can’t. I fear that if I so much as reach for her then I’m not going to be able to stop.
I push back, melding myself into the bench in the hope that it puts an extra bit of space between us. But it’s futile. I already know that.
Her core presses down against my solid length, and I’m powerless to stop my hips from lifting to get more.
“Tiny,” I half-moan, half-warn.
I want to take everything she’s offering. I want to claim her, mark her as my own so no other motherfucker in this place will touch her.
“You’re going to need to sound a little less like you’re enjoying yourself if you want to convince me to stop.”
Her hips roll, her tits thrusting in my face. Finally, my arms move, but it’s only to wrap my fingers around her wrists.
She stills the second we connect, and her eyes fly to mine. They widen in challenge, her defiance shining as bright as ever. For whatever reason, she wants to break all the rules tonight, and fuck if I’m not a few seconds from throwing caution to the wind myself.
Leaning forward, my lips brush her ear and she shudders.
“Tiny,” I all but groan, “I need you to stop.”
“What about what I need?”
“What you need,” I grate out, “is to do as you’re told.”
“I’m not a fucking kid,” she snaps, thrusting the evidence in my face once more.
“Oh, Tiny. Trust me when I tell
