by Colbie Kay
I hate Sundays! It’s the only day of the week that Stilettos is closed, and that means I’m home all day and night in this empty house by myself with nothing to do. I miss the days of having Jorga here; it’s been a year since she moved out.
I slept until late afternoon, I’ve cleaned every inch of this house, and I finished the last load of laundry which had been overflowing in the hamper. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I ordered takeout from the Chinese restaurant. What to do now? It’s rough working until two in the morning and not getting home until three or four.
Maybe a hot bath? Yeah, that sounds nice. Strolling into my bathroom, I turn the water on until it reaches my perfect temperature. The hotter the better. While the water is running, I race into the kitchen and grab a pint of ice cream and a spoon.
I sink down into the water and close my eyes. Ah, it feels amazing! Putting my earbuds in, the sound of the male narrator’s voice clouds my hearing, I listen to the story as I eat spoonfuls of my ice cream. This audiobook is so damn good!
Chapter after chapter passes, and I’ve probably been in this tub for a couple hours. My fingers and toes are wrinkled, the water isn’t even warm now, but I couldn’t stop listening. I had to find out what happened. I step out of the tub and quickly wrap my warm fluffy towel around my body because I’m shivering so badly that my teeth are chattering.
I rush into my room and quickly open my closet door looking for one of the nightshirts I’ve worn for the last fourteen years. I keep them hung because the t-shirts belonged to my father. They’re old, worn, and have multiple holes in them, but I can’t bring myself get rid of them. The box on my top shelf catches my attention. It’s been a while since I looked inside it. Grabbing his old black shirt, I pull it over my head and let the towel fall before reaching for the box. The coldness I felt moments ago has vanished as I hold the box to my chest.
My heart races as I carry it in my shaky hands to the bed. When I sit, I set it in front of me and feel the tears springing forth already, and I try to blink them away as I inhale and exhale. Taking a few more deep breaths, I gather enough courage to take the top off. The first thing I see is a pile of pictures…my father and I…me and my best friend…my biggest supporter. I study each one and close my eyes, remembering the details in his face: his strong jaw, the blue in his eyes, his pointed nose, his five o’clock shadow. I breathe in deeply through my nose recalling his scent of oil and cheap cologne. Wrapping my arms around myself, I remember the way his big arms would pick me up and hug me so tightly in his strong embrace. My father was my safe place, he was my protector, he was my world until he was ripped away from me.
My eyes flutter open with tears streaking my cheeks. I pull out my ballerina shoes and glide my fingers over the soft silky material and run the ribbons through my grasp. I touch every tear and worn place on them. I remember dancing in them until my toes bled. I remember my father watching with so much pride in his gaze. I remember my father spending every dime we had on lessons and shoes and leotards. He didn’t care how much it was as long as my dreams were coming true. My dream of becoming a professional ballerina, studying at Julliard in New York…that dream died before I even had a chance.
The anger, loss, regret, and an abundance of other emotions surface. I’ve pushed them down and tried to let it go, but I can’t. I can’t forget.
I put the shoes and pictures back in the box and return it to the safety of my closet to be hidden away like the rest of my secrets.
My phone pings with a new text. Grabbing it from the nightstand, I open it.
I’ll be in town for a few days. We need to meet.
Biting my lip, I respond.
Name the place and time. I’ll be there.
The sound of our father’s drunken footfalls thunders onto the wooden steps of our porch. “Robbie, take Maryanne and Rebecca to the hiding spot,” I order my brother. I’m the oldest, so I have to protect my younger siblings.
“No!” Robbie sits next to our sisters on the couch.
My eyes widen. “Go!” I try again, but they don’t budge.
“You can’t always protect us, David,” Maryanne whispers. Her little lips are trembling with fear because she knows what’s coming.
My head tilts to the side as I stare at little Rebecca who is only six-years-old. “Rebecca, can you go hide?” My voice is tender yet stern.
Her eyes should be full of innocence, full of joy and happiness, but they’re dead. The same color of ice as mine. She shakes her head. “I’m staying with you.”
The front door bursts open.
I stand tall at my twelve-year-old height, and I wait.
The door slams closed.
He sits in his favorite rocking chair.
“Rebecca, come sit on Daddy’s lap.”
“No!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Rebecca follows his orders. “No!” I scream again as she climbs into his lap, and her dead stare meets mine.
“Demon, wake up!” My eyes fly open as I scurry up my bed to where a headboard should be, but I only have a frame. My body rocks while I’m still stuck in the nightmare. Loud thuds are rhythmic as my back hits the wall with an intended force to knock me out of this bad fuckin’ dream I see before me. “It’s me, Demon. It’s Robbie.”
Sweat beads down my forehead and chest. I run my hand over my soaked hair. “Fuck!” I try to catch my breath. “Chayser,” I say as I realize I was having a fuckin’ nightmare. We’re no longer in that hell house. Robbie has been chasing my nightmares and demons away for years, that’s how he got the road name Chayser.
He sits on the edge of my bed. “I heard you screaming from my room next door. You haven’t had a nightmare about Dad in a long time.”
“I know.” I wipe the sweat from my face. “Go back to bed.” My breaths begin to steady while my heart still races.
Once the door is closed, I take the blade out of my nightstand and hold it against my abdomen. One…two…three…slice after slice, I cut into my flesh, drawing the blood I need for release. Four…five…six…the tension begins to ease. Seven…eight…nine…I can finally take a full, deep breath. My hands no longer shake, and the rhythm of my heart returns to normal.
I swipe my finger through the cuts gathering the crimson on my finger. I close my eyes as the first drop teases my taste buds.
I’ve been sitting in Hacker’s office all damn night doing the books and making sure every fuckin’ penny that comes in and goes out is accounted for. Laundering money is my specialty among a few other things, and it’s my job to may it appear legit on paper, but fuck, sitting here for hours staring at numbers will have your vision doubling. I think it’s about time for a break.
Just as I glance up, Hacker calls my name from the doorway. “Can you make sure Dancer gets home?”
“Yeah, I gotta finish this shit anyway.” Throwing the pen down onto the desk, I stand.
Hacker slaps his hand against the doorframe. “See ya’ tomorrow, brother.”
“See ya’,” I reply as he’s walking away.
My tongue slides along my bottom lip. It’s not too often Hacker isn’t here to take the pretty bitch home. I still remember our conversation out back six or so years ago. Seems like it’s been a lifetime since I found out she’s fuckin’ feisty and showed not one ounce of fear when she stood up to me the way she did. Goddamn, that shit made my cock hard and my twisted mind run wild with the shit I could do to her. It had me running to The Dungeon to find Kassidy. That was the one and only conversation we’ve had. She’ll say my name, I’ll say hers, but we’ve never been alone together since then. Tonight, we will be though.
I grab my smokes off the desk.
“Demon?” Her sweet angelic voice sends jolts of electrical ecstasy through my body.
My ice colored eyes slowly meet her gorgeous yellow ones. “Dancer.”
She seems fidgety with the way she’s subtly moving her body. “The club is cleared out.” Messing with her hair, she clears her throat. “So, um, it’s just
you and me left.”
My head tilts from side to side just a fraction as I study her. Is she nervous? Do I make her nervous, or is she uncomfortable being here alone with me?
She adds, “I need to finish cleaning, and then I’ll be ready.”
“I’m not in a hurry.”
She smiles, but it seems almost shy or innocent. “Okay.”
I groan under my breath as my cock hardens. All I can fuckin’ think about is how innocent is she really? I want nothing more than to find out if there’s a dirty side to Dancer Holland.
My eyes are glued to her plump little ass as she turns to leave. I put a smoke between my lips and light it up. Heading out of the office, I open the back door and take a long drag from my cigarette. The smoke and fresh air fill my lungs as I stretch my arms above my head. Leaning against the building with one foot propped against it, I run a hand down my long beard and stare up at the full moon, taking hit after hit. Done, I throw the butt down onto the ground and smash it with my boot.
Music blares through the speakers as I enter the club. Glancing around the room, my eyes stop at the stage. Dancer is up there in nothing except her boy shorts and a cut-off shirt. The way her body moves hypnotizes me. I can’t fuckin’ look away. She’s sucking me in, drawing me closer. She’s dancing as if it is second nature as if she’s danced her whole fuckin’ life. She moves so gracefully, her entire form limber, whirling around in a mixture of exotic and ballet. Her body bends to where her head is practically touching her toes, and she lifts her leg until it’s stretched out as if she’s doing the splits while standing. I’ve never seen anyone that flexible. Her leg drops back down, and she stands upright before scurrying over to the pole.
She’s so enthralled by the music, she doesn’t realize I’m watching. I step closer and closer. My footfalls don’t halt until I take a seat at the edge of the stage. She climbs up the pole using only her arms and upper body strength, and spins around steel, opening opens her legs; one arm is the only part of her attached to that fuckin’ pole. I grab my cock over my jeans to try and settle the pounding need that’s surfacing. She’s so goddamn beautiful. She slides down the metal only then realizing I’m sitting here mesmerized by her every move. I’m her audience. She freezes, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Don’t stop,” I demand harshly. My stare is enraptured, my voice ragged and rough when I say, “Dance for me.”
Slowly, she begins to move, her eyes not leaving mine. Her routine becomes more seductive, more risqué. It’s as if she’s getting turned on with me watching. Dancer pulls her midriff shirt over her head then hooks her thumbs into the hem of her shorts. Her hips sway as she lowers them, leaving herself exposed to me in nothing except red lace thong panties and her bra. I suck in a deep breath as my cock grows impossibly harder. Sitting up in the chair, I grab the edge of the stage to try and keep control.
She climbs up the pole, and her body twists in ways I have never seen. Standing, my hold on the stage loosens and my shoulders hunch as I stare at her. I remove my cut and lay it in the chair, all sense of control has vanished as I jump onto the stage. Her body swings around the pole as she performs multiple tricks, positions I didn’t know a body could do. The strippers I’ve seen dance here don’t compare to Dancer. I wonder if Hacker knows she can dance like this. I stand at the edge, my hands in fists so tight that my knuckles pale with the pressure. My cock screams to be let out as I draw in a ragged breath. I saunter over to the pole and wait for her to slide down a little before grabbing her. She’s so tiny, I have no trouble flipping her around so her legs can wrap around my waist.
She bites down on her bottom lip as our gazes meet. “I’m going to hell for this.”
I grab a fistful of her hair. “I’ll meet you there.” Our lips crash together and it’s a fight of tongues and teeth. A hungry craving takes hold of me, my obsession coming to the surface. I pull my lips away, and my mouth meets her ear. I growl, “How many men have you been with?”
“Two,” She whispers breathlessly.
Her scent of peaches and whipped cream makes me so fuckin’ thirsty for her. “Are you clean?”
“Yes.”
I release her legs, forcing her to stand on her feet. “Turn around, grab the pole, and don’t let go.” When she’s in position with her ass facing me, I move her long dark hair away from her neck. The skull ring I wear has a hidden razor blade. I run my tongue along the crook of her neck and place my opposite hand around her throat. I blow hot air onto that spot, watching as the goosebumps pebble her skin. Placing the razor blade where I want it, I cut into her skin only slightly breaking the surface. The crimson beads start to form, and I run my tongue along the cut. Her taste is just as I imagined, sweet and metallic, the best fuckin’ blood I’ve ever savored. It fuckin’ sings for me. My mouth latches onto her flesh while she cries out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Lowering my hands, I rip the thin strap on her panties, pulling them from her body.
I whisper against the shell of her ear, “You sure you wanna dance with the devil, little girl?”
“Fuck me like the demon you are.”
“You sure you wanna dance with the devil, little girl?” He whispers into my ear, sending a wave of goosebumps over my flesh. Am I sure? Absolutely not, but my body is aching to feel him inside me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man—since my last boyfriend, and that was years ago. I’ve never just had sex with someone for the sake of sex or just for the pleasure of it. I need to draw him into me. I need him close. If I do this, I’m crossing a line that can’t be undone. There will be no going back from here, but the risk could be worth it. I need to do it.
Something shifted between us while he watched me dance. Having his eyes on me as I danced only for him was bewitching. It feels as if I’m still under his spell with no way of breaking free. “Fuck me like the demon you are.” There is no hesitation, but my voice quivers with anticipation. What the hell am I getting myself into?
He lowers himself to the ground while I still have a hold of the pole. "Scoot on down the pole until you're sitting on my face," Demon orders me.
I do as he wishes, and his hands clasp onto my ass cheeks, spreading them open. The first lick of his tongue sends jolts of desire rushing through my body. His tongue feels so good against my pussy, and when he focuses on my clit, it's magical. I grip the pole tighter while my hips gyrate. My breath hitches when his dirty tongue laps at my back hole. I’ve never had anyone venture there, but to my surprise, it feels really, really good.
His tongue finds my clit once again as one of his fingers pushes inside my channel. He edges me closer to the cliff, and I’m unashamed at how quickly I’m going to come. "Demon," I cry out as my head tips back.
"Stand up," He demands.
"What? Why?" I mewl.
He growls and bites my clit in punishment, causing me to squeal from the pain of his teeth. "Do as your fuckin' told," He dictates and pinches me hard enough to bruise.
I stand, irritated because I'm losing my impending orgasm.
He waits and waits, allowing only his hands to run up and down my legs. "Is it gone?"
"What?"
"Your need to come, is it gone?"
"Yes." I roll my eyes and huff in aggravation.
"Sit down." I lower myself once more, and he begins the agonizing torture all over again. Just as I'm growing close, he stops. "Stand up." He smacks my ass hard; I yelp, and my body bucks away from his hand. My flesh burns and I’m probably going to have another bruise.
I do, and once the feeling is gone, he tells me to sit back down. My frustration is growing, and if I didn’t need to come so badly, I would walk away, but I can’t leave now. I need to see this through. I need to feel the explosive release.
Sit down, stand up…I do this over and over every time he demands it of me. My legs are wobbly and hurting from the up and down motion. My impending orgasm intensifies each time I sit, and I can't take it anymore. I want to scream at him to make me come. I wan
t to cry. I want to beg.
As I stand gripping the pole tightly, I’ve lost feeling in my hands. My lips tremble while I beg. I sound whiny and filled with so much need, I barely recognize my own voice. "Demon, please, I need to come. Please, don't make me wait any longer. I can't take it."
"Sit," He commands. I do, and this time, he doesn't stop. He keeps lapping at me, drawing me so close, my breathing becomes labored. I feel one of his fingers against my asshole, pushing inside. Oh God, it feels even better than his tongue.
“Don’t stop. Demon, don’t fucking stop! Make me come!” My back arches as my hips buck wildly. I begin screaming, and my body convulses as my orgasm consumes me. It keeps going and going as Demon drinks from me, taking every drop, and he growls approvingly. "Demon," His name falls from my lips while my pussy continues spasming against his mouth. Tears fall from my eyes from the intensity of it all. I’ve never experienced a climax like this before. It’s too much.
My orgasm begins to fade away. I'm left breathless and exhausted, unable to move. I feel like I’ve been completely drained. Demon slides out from underneath me and pulls me up to stand before I hear the zipper of his jeans being undone. I watch in the mirror as he removes his boots, and they go flying along with the rest of his clothing. He holds the condom up to his teeth, the plastic of the condom crunches as he rips it open. This is it. No going back. The tip of his cock press against my asshole. His ice-blue eyes meet mine in the mirror. "Anybody ever take you here, Dancer?"
"No." Shaking my head, I try to keep my eyes open and focused on the mirrors in front of me.
"You have a greedy little cunt, and I bet I can make your little brown hole just as greedy. But not today." One of his hands pushes on my back while the other wraps around my waist. He positions me where he wants me, with my upper body bent forward and my ass pressed against him. He inches my legs apart with one of his feet. The head of his cock rubs against my asshole until he finally moves and slams himself inside my pussy. I cry out with the force and his size. The two men I have been with do not compare. He pounds into me over and over while I try to keep my hold on the pole, however, my hands keep losing their grip as I’m pushed forward dragged and back.