I’d made it through the dance.
My heart was pounding, beating against the inside of my ribcage like it was trying to escape. Far more uncomfortable than that, though, was the fact that I was wet.
Never, not once in all the time I’d been stripping, had being on that stage ever included me being aroused. I put on a show of it that men ate up every night, but it was never anywhere close to reality.
Or it hadn’t been until Daz sat at the end of the stage.
It wasn’t like I’d never danced with him watching before. There was just something there tonight. Maybe it was the way Ham’s words had been haunting me for days on end.
If you’re ever plannin’ to throw the asshole a bone, it’ll be his birthday.
I was loath to admit it, but part of me had known for a while I was going to give in eventually. The attraction—desire like I’d never experienced—was too strong. I wasn’t even sure I actually liked him. Sure, he was a good boss, but he was also an obnoxious flirt who never seemed to take anything but running the club seriously. My body didn’t care, though. He was hot, almost dangerously so. It was one of the few times in my life I’d experienced true, unadulterated lust.
And knowing I had the same effect on him just made that flame burn even hotter.
When the song ended and I was able to get off the stage, to break the ever mounting tension between us, it took all I had not to run. The tall-as-hell platform stilettos I had on might have hindered me a bit, but I was more than adept in them and managed a solid jog.
The curtain separating the main space from the hall back to the private rooms and usually guarded dressing rooms had barely fallen back into place before I heard the heavy velvet shift. I knew it was him without looking. What surprised me wasn’t that he’d followed, it was the moment he stepped past me and kept moving. It surprised me so much, I stopped in my tracks.
Daz’s attention snapped back around to me. He was a few feet ahead now, but it was nowhere near far enough for me to miss the tension in his frame, the stiffness in his jaw, the inferno raging in his eyes. Without a word, he stomped the few steps that separated us, snatched my hand, and yanked me along behind him.
Leading us to the first door, he pushed it open and slammed it closed with a resounding snap. He shut us into the private dance room, muting out the lights from the hall until we had only the low, purple lighting inside to see by.
Daz was standing there, his eyes fixed on me, his stare hot enough to scorch across my bared skin. I felt more naked than I possibly ever had in my life. It didn’t matter that my audience had shrunk from twenty odd people to one. It didn’t matter that I’d taken my clothes off in front of much larger crowds. With Daz looking at me that way, I was more than undressed.
I was exposed.
My eyes flicked back to the door, wondering for a crazed moment if I should run for it—if I even could. Despite the overwhelming attraction, flirting, and the fact that I’d gotten myself off at least daily with the image of him in my mind, I wasn’t actually prepared for this reality.
“You want to go, you do it right the fuck now,” Daz stated, his voice far rougher than I’d ever heard it, that innate joking lilt that always colored it gone.
I met those fiery eyes, seeing a man undone. This was Daz past the edge of sanity, driven there by this crazy desire between us.
Which meant he felt it at least almost as much as I did.
“I don’t want to go.”
Saying the words was like letting loose a wild animal. Daz’s body crashed into mine, slamming my back against the door. The air rushed from my lungs and his mouth descended to mine before I could take a breath. His kiss was vigorous, consuming, not at all the coaxing tease I expected from him. Still, even as my chest ached with the need for air, he was so skilled, I didn’t want to stop. His tongue was intoxicating, and I was aching and wet from the desire to see what else he might be able to do with it.
His mouth left mine, dropping down to my breasts. Gasping, I thrust my chest forward. He accepted the invitation spectacularly, his tongue flicking against one of my nipples before his lips wrapped around it and sucked.
I didn’t want to cry out, but there was no holding it in. All the precious control I’d cherished on stage was gone, devastated by the fire Daz had started in me. It wasn’t a spark, a little flicker of a flame—it was total combustion.
His hands came up to hold the heavy weight of my breasts, his fingers teasing the nipple he wasn't lavishing attention on with that mouth of his. Then, he switched sides, until I was squirming between him and the door.
It was nothing like I would have expected from him. Daz struck me as the quick and dirty type. A real wham, bam, thank you ma'am kind of guy. Dirty couldn't be denied, but there was nothing quick about the way he continued to torture my straining nipples, moving back and forth between them while the ache between my legs grew unbearable.
It was too much, not enough. Chilling pleasure and scalding pain. It was enough that any sense of self-preservation was a thing of the past.
“Please,” I groaned.
There was a wicked glint in his eyes as he lifted away, leaving my breasts to be assaulted by the cool air, a jarring feeling after his heated attention. He pulled me by the hand across the small room to the pole in the center. There, with insistent motions, he wrapped my fingers around the chilly metal.
“Hold on, baby.”
With rough hands on my hips, he yanked my lower body away from the pole, making me stumble in the tall heels still strapped to my feet, and positioned me until I was bent over gripping the pole with outstretched arms for balance. With a hand caressing my back, ass, and thighs, he knelt behind me.
The faintest pressure rubbed back and forth between my legs, pressing the damp scrap of fabric against my sensitive skin.
“Soaked,” he murmured, his appreciation evident in the single word. I didn’t have words, not when that touch was more torture than anything he’d done so far. All I had was a desperate keening sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need.”
Pulling at the center of the wet spot, he yanked the thong down until it was stretched around my spread thighs and released a low groan that had me wanting to press my legs together. Then, his hands were on my ass cheeks, spreading me open. It felt too personal. It was exactly why I didn’t dance at clubs that required full nudity.
He gave me a long lick from my clit up. Every thought in my mind shattered to nothing against the thrill of pleasure that consumed me. I whimpered when he lifted away.
“Sweeter than I fuckin’ thought,” Daz declared roughly, and in another heartbeat, his tongue was buried in my pussy.
He licked, he sucked, he fucked me with his tongue until I was afraid my legs would buckle. An orgasm I knew would destroy me was building faster than I could believe.
“Fuck, you’re actually good at this.”
He stopped. Instantly. Completely. I cried out in dismay, my hips lifting to press back against him, but he moved farther away.
“The fuck?”
“Are you seriously stopping right now?” I nearly shrieked.
“You said that shit, sugar. Now, explain.”
I didn’t want to, but I was past the point of no return here, and I’d do anything to get him back on task. “I honestly assumed you wouldn’t be great in bed. The way you talk—brag—about how good you are, it seemed like a front.”
His hands went back to my hips, gripping me harder, until the press of his fingers into my muscles almost hurt. “I’ll show you how fuckin’ good I am.”
He dove back in like a man on a mission. “Good” couldn’t touch what he gave me. Words could barely scratch the surface of the unrelenting pleasure. In no time at all, I was barreling headlong into an orgasm that had my legs trembling uncontrollably. Still, he didn’t let up. His hands at my hips took my weight, holding me against his face, making me take everything he gave as he rang me dry. When the last aftershocks faded, he tried to set me down slowly, but I couldn’t stay upright. I sank right to my knees, still gripping the pole like a lifeline.
Daz wrapped himself around me. “You’re coming home with me,” he stated. “I’m not done with you yet.”