The dance had been fun, and by Turner’s heated reaction she hadn’t messed it up. The only pole dancing she’d seen was that one scene in the movie. She’d used a few of the moves she’d remembered and improvised the rest. As an immortal, her body was flexible and supple without much effort put into exercising, which in her case was limited to occasional walks around the block.

Behind her, the heat from Turner’s body reached her before his hand touched her behind in a loving caress.

Maybe loving was too strong of a word for it, but she was going to stick with it. His touch was gentle, his palm warm, and his hand lingered as if he never wanted to sever the contact.

With his other hand, he helped her slide the thong all the way down her legs and tossed it aside to join her bra and dress on the floor.

She made a move to lift her torso, but he guided her back down with a soft push.

“Stay like that,” he whispered. “It’s a million dollar view.”

She chuckled. “Three thousand at least.”

“Is that what I’m paying you?” He trailed his hand lower, cupping her mound.

She moaned. “Aha…”

His finger dipped between her folds. “Worth every penny.”

“I didn’t do anything to earn it yet.”

“The view alone is worth that much. From now on you’ll be working for your tip.” He smeared her wetness around her lower lips but not where she needed it most.

Ugh, he was going to take it slow. “Tell me what you want, Mr. Turner.”

“I want everything.”

It was hard to think with his finger doing all kind of wicked things to her, and she meant it literally. Not touching her pulsating nerve center was mean.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips at the sound of rustling fabric. Victor taking off his clothes signaled the end of her torment. The man had formidable self-control, but even he had limits. Staring at her ass was no doubt stretching his resolve to the max. Turner was obsessed with it.

Lucky for him, she had a plentiful backside. Not as in huge, she was too small of a woman for any part of her to qualify as such, but she was curvy, with a fairly big bust, a proportionally sized ass, and a narrow waist.

A classic hourglass figure.

In his usual efficient and economical manner, Turner had promptly gotten rid of his clothes, not tossing them on the floor as she had, but folding them neatly and placing them on the bench that hugged the footboard. The way he’d arranged her, visual information was not available to her, but Bridget’s hearing was good enough to ascertain every move he made.

The feel of his muscular thighs against the backs of her own was not a surprise, but it provided a thrill nonetheless. She loved the way their bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Palming his heavy length, he pushed it between her folds. Rubbing it back and forth and coating it with her moisture, he seemed in no hurry to feed it into her.

She wiggled her butt in invitation, which earned her a stinging smack on the fleshy part of her right buttock. “Hey! What was that for?”

“As a paying customer, it’s my call what I want to do next. Stop trying to hurry things along.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m impatient.” She wiggled again, intentionally inviting another smack.

Turner delivered, then leaned over her back, covering her with his warm torso. “Do you need more spanking, naughty girl?”

It seemed her stoic lover was getting into the role acting. Calling her a naughty girl, or any kind of girl, was definitely new.

Bridget loved it.

Unlike most men, Turner wasn't intimidated by her. He had no problem with her smarts and her medical diploma and her assertive nature. In fact, he loved those things about her. Well, love was too strong of a word when pertaining to Turner, but she knew he appreciated her and most importantly didn’t feel threatened by her.

“No,” she said, wiggling her butt again.

Two quick smacks followed, not as strong as the first ones, but they stung nonetheless.

“Are you going to keep swiveling those hips of yours like that, or are you going to behave?” He delivered two more.

The giggle was impossible to stifle. “I can’t help it.”

“Tsk, tsk. You definitely need more training, my girl.” He smoothed his palms over her heated behind. “Being a receptionist is a waste of your natural gifts. This ass is too perfect to be stuck in a chair all day, and those plump lips of yours are made for kisses and not for answering phone calls.”

“Are you offering to train me?”

“Yes.” He chuckled.

They both knew she was the more experienced and could teach him a thing or two. But the switch around was fun. Bridget couldn’t remember ever being so playful with a guy. Even with Andrew, she’d been somewhat reserved, not sexually, but as far as letting her inner girl out.

It was boring to be the responsible adult at all times. On a gut level, Bridget knew that with Turner she could be whomever she wanted to be at that moment and he would accept each and every facet of her.

It was liberating, and it was intimate in the extreme.

“Then teach me, master. I’m an eager pupil.” She shook her ass again, barely managing to stifle a laugh.

Turner groaned, his strong thighs leaving hers exposed to the cool air as he dipped down and licked her from behind.

Sneaky operative. He’d taken her by surprise.

She had been expecting his hard length to spear into her, not his tongue, but she could wait a few more minutes. Perhaps he could treat her to a climax once or twice before moving on to the main event.

“I like that.” She moaned, her hips moving even though she wanted to stay still.

Clamping his hands on her ass cheeks, Victor didn’t answer. Instead, he proceeded to demonstrate that he could teach her a thing or two as well.

The man had a very agile tongue and knew how to use it on a woman.

For a moment, a surge of jealousy washed over her. Who had he practiced on? Was it common for paying customers to treat call girls to cunnilingus?

Not likely.

Then who had been on the receiving end of his tongue’s attentions?

Her sudden flare of unease hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“What’s the matter? Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re doing everything too right.”

“Huh?”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Who did you practice on?”

Victor shook his head. “Really? That’s what you want to ask me right now?”

“Yes.”

He turned his eyes up to the ceiling. “I will never understand women.” He looked back down. “I learned from watching porn on the Internet. I wanted to know how to do it right. Then I practiced on several of my paid companions. Satisfied?”

Damn, she was such an idiot. Turner looked embarrassed by the admission she’d forced out of him. Why was she behaving like that? Why did she doubt his story about lack of female companionship other than the paid kind?

Because it was hard to believe that a gem like Victor hadn't been discovered by her human competition. It just didn’t make sense, but on the other hand, neither did him making this stuff up.

“I’m sorry, did I spoil the mood?”

He grunted but said nothing.

Yeah, she definitely did.

Turning around, Bridget faced Victor and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t believe your story, you have no reason to lie to me. I get those uncontrollable, irrational surges of jealousy because I can’t believe you weren’t snatched up by some other woman already. You have so much to offer.”

With a sigh, he rested his forehead on hers. “I know what you mean. I get those too. The irrational jealousy drives me nuts. That’s not who I am.”

“Me neither. Why do you think this is happening to us?”

Bridget had a good idea what it was, but to say that to Turner would freak him out.

“I guess it’s because we’ve come to mean a lot to each other. It’s a form of possessiveness.”

Close enough.

“Let me make it up to you.” She gave him a gentle shove, pushing him down to his haunches.

“What do you have in mind?”