Her cheeks stain hot pink. She glances at the floor for a moment. “You saw me dance on stage?”
As she asks, she starts moving toward the pole. Hopping onstage, she starts to approach it. I sit back, feeling my pulse pick up.
“That’s right,” I say. I try to play it cool as though she’s not about to take her clothes off and try to make me horny. Sucking in a deep breath, I tell myself to relax.
She hops up onto the platform and starts gyrating her hips, running her hands up through her hair and down the front of her body. Her eyes close and then pop open for a moment, pinning me in place as she rubs the silky material covering her pussy.
Something about her expression, a heavy lidded innocence, really fucking turns me on. She’s like a virgin giving off fuck me eyes for the very first time.
I know it’s all a show. I know that it can’t be real. But I let myself sink into the moment, let myself be swept along by the tide.
Cerise grabs the pole and swings around it, undulating her body. I tilt my head to the side and bite my lower lip. She climbs the pole deftly, leaning out and then letting her back bow until she touches the floor with her hands. She does the splits in midair, her kimono falling so that I can see her legs and her material covered pussy.
“Take off your robe,” I order.
A little smirk appears on her face. She dismounts the pole by doing a roundoff, then gives me a sultry look. She unties her kimono slowly and then shrugs out of it, leaving her in the black bikini.
I take a sip of my whiskey, trying not to show how base my thoughts are. I’m excited by the slight curves of her hips as she dances before me. She bows before coming back up very slowly, never breaking eye contact with me.
Then she grabs onto the stripper pole with one hand and lifts onto her tiptoes. Her arm arches gracefully above her head. She leans forward, extending her leg behind me. I trace the curve as it lifts behind her.
When I saw her do this more before, I thought that perhaps she had some ballet training. But now I think it’s more than that.
My lovely little ballerina is truly talented and well trained. The fact that Cerise is working here at Club X is a puzzle. She’s been involved in a hardcore ballet program somewhere, I can tell. Unless she has recently quit, she is doing something very forbidden in the ballet world.
I sit back and watch her climb the pole again, hiding a smirk. Moonlighting here is a definite no no, whether her program explicitly says so or not.
The song shifts just as she pulls on the strings of her top.
“Cerise,” I command. “Come here.”
I pat my thigh. She blushes, climbing to her feet. Her hips sway as she pads over to me. Her cheeks color again when she stands over me, leaning forward to push my shoulders back against the red velvet booth.
As she looks me right in the eye, I wonder how she manages to blush on cue. I know it’s doubtless a manipulation of some sort. But I have to say, it’s working on me. I can feel myself falling under her spell.
Especially when she straddles my lap and sinks down so that I feel the exquisite pleasure of her ass against my thighs. My instinct is to grab her, to take control.
I am always in control.
But I just ball my hands into fists and tense my whole body.
“You should be mine,” I tell her, looking at her perfect little tits.
She puts her hands up against the booth behind my head. “I am yours, Mr. X. You can ask me for anything tonight.”
I scowl. “What if I want you at my beck and call? Hmm?”
I raise a hand and push her hair off off her neck. It’s so fucking silky and soft against my fingers.
Cerise shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
She rolls her body, grinding against my cock. My eyes narrow on her face.
“I could be your patron. That’s what all the girls here want, isn’t it?”
Her brow wrinkles. “Too much talking. Not enough dancing. Don’t you agree?”
I clench my jaw. I think she just found a polite way to tell me to shut up. Then again, she’s pretty much dry humping me. I try to relax, try to focus on the softness of her skin, the gentle hint of rose that wafts off her neck, the warmth of her pressed against me.
It’s almost like intimacy and just as addictive.
She looks me in the eye; I can see from this close that her eyes are tawny brown with green flecks. She presses her hands against my chest, biting her lip, and leans close to my ear.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but she just lets out the breathiest sound, the tiniest of moans. She grinds her body against mine as she grabs my hands and brings them to her waist.
“Fuck,” I grit out. I’m surprised at how this girl has managed to turn me out. I lift a hand and plunge it into her hair, wishing more than anything I could pull her in for a kiss.
Of course, I can think of other ways that she could please me… My eyes are glued on her mouth, imagining her on her knees, opening those lips, sucking my fucking cock.
My cock is currently pressed between our bodies; each time she grinds on it or rolls her body, I come a little bit closer to doing something very, very wicked to my little ballerina.
“Tell me something,” I whisper. “Do you know how much this turns me on?”
She blushes and grins. She undulates her body, rolling it against me, and cocks a brow. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Instinctively, my grip tightens in her hair. She’s so dainty as she rides my lap, so angelic and yet so fucking dirty. She gasps in surprise as I start to move against her, thrusting my cock up between our bodies.
She stills for the barest moment; I seem to have crossed one of her boundaries though she doesn’t say so.
I take my hand out of her hair and return it to her waist, knowing that I could easily snap and take things too far.
I’ve done it before.
Hell, I’ve even done it at this club, in this booth. I’ve definitely gone all the way from kissing to fondling to being blown by a stripper.
There is something holding me back from Cerise, though. I don’t know if it’s the fact that she’s obviously had ballet training or the faux innocence that she projects. Maybe it’s her smell, a vague splash of rose but nothing too fake or flashy.
But I look into her eyes and something echoes between us. A longing, perhaps.
I wish I was the kind of man that she thinks I am. She probably just sees wealth and good looks when she looks at me.
But beneath that scarily thin veneer lies something so twisted and so dark that there is no chance at redemption. Not for me.
Cerise drags me from my thoughts by pushing up off my lap and sinking to her knees. She rubs her hands up and down my thighs, biting her plump lower lip and making eye contact with me. She lowers her head and kisses my thigh.
My eyes close for a second. Shivers of anticipation run through my veins. She’s barely even touching my leg. I haven’t felt this kind of crackling excitement since I was a teenager.
God, if Honor ever touched me like this, ever sat on my lap and ground against my cock, I—
I don’t even know that I’m going to come before it’s already happening. By the time I realize that my balls are tingling, it’s already too late. I’m literally so surprised that I don’t even warn her that I’m about to come. I don’t say anything; my brain and my mouth are both too out of it to do more than whisper, “oh fuck.”