by Lynn Burke
“Maybe you ought to strip down next time,” he growled, trembling and seemingly on the verge of losing it.
Heat swept through me, sending another rush of arousal to my soaked panties, and I smirked.
“Let the fuckers see every inch of your goddamn skin. Give them all a case of fucking blue balls like the little fucking tease you are.”
I tipped my head to the side, so damn ready to sin, wetness trickled down my thigh. I wanted him to take control -- or, lose it, rather. “Avril said the men aren’t allowed to touch me unless I want them to.”
A muscle jumped in his smooth-shaven jaw.
I leaned in, my gaze dropping from his fiery eyes to his thin-lined lips. “I want you to.”
Bowie shuddered and growled, but rather than take what he obviously wanted, he spun on his heel and left me standing backstage, unsatisfied and more than a little miffed. My gaze narrowed even though I wanted to wrap my legs around his flexing ass, dig my fingernails into the tense shoulders straining beneath his shirt as he stalked away from me.
He wanted to be that way, fine. Fuck him and whatever it was about me that he didn’t like. He might turn me on, but he would never be my mercy man I’d been saving myself for. He’d thought I’d been a tease on the pole…
I huffed a snort and pushed open the dressing room door the second he disappeared from sight. Wait until I fucked the pole next time. He wouldn’t be able to resist me.
* * *
Bowie
Staying away from that goddamn woman proved hard as fuck. Just knowing she sat backstage waiting to go on later that night had my dick swollen and balls aching. I jerked off once at my desk while watching her on the security cameras and another time in the bathroom attached to my office.
Didn’t ease shit.
I ate dinner at my desk and only ventured out into the lounge at nine when Ave had told me Angel would be going back onstage. The lounge was packed as usual for a Friday night, music thumping, Kitty and Kat grinding away at twin poles on the main stage.
Ginger and Candy both danced on the individual platforms closer to the bar, the intimate settings reserved for those with a bit more cash to toss to our women. While Ginger was a true redhead -- and I knew that for fact -- Candy enjoyed changing her hair color every week. Purple streaks shot through her long white-blonde hair, the tips swaying against her plump ass while she writhed against the pole.
Both had been in my bed of their own accord since I knew better than to pursue an untouchable. Both had sported the scratches of my knife -- and both hadn’t given me grief when I moved on. Kitty, on the other hand, while rocking the body of a Barbie doll, didn’t have much between the ears or the intelligence to know when a man wasn’t interested. Drove me fucking nuts even though I’d told her one and done months earlier.
Ignoring the dancers, I greeted a few brothers and other regular patrons while making my way to the main stage. A simple grumble in a man’s ear had him out of the middle chair and off to find another place to hang. Kitty and Kat finished up their routine as I sat in the vacated seat, and I made sure to keep from even looking at Kitty. One inkling of supposed interest, and she’d be all over me like stench on fresh dog shit.
My heart fucking pounded, dick ached, when Angel sashayed her way across the stage, her gaze honing in on my face and staying there as she fucked that damn pole, lips parted, pulse thrumming in her neck. She worked so damn hard a sheen of sweat covered her skin, glistening in the spotlight -- like an angel.
Men reached for her, standing two-deep around the stage, waving and tossing bills, but she only had eyes for me. Fucking minx. Didn’t know what she played with. Fire, hot and bright, burned through me, and I lost myself in her movements, the graceful, lithe muscles flexing beneath her skin, contorting her body, and laying waste to my goddamn mind.
I wanted her like I’d never wanted something in my whole fucking life, and the temptation to lose control scared the fuck out of me.
Until Angel disappeared backstage, hat she’d had earlier stuffed full of cash, every muscle in my body ached from the tension gripping me. Once back in my office, I jerked myself hard and fast, then texted Ave, telling her to let me know when Angel was ready to leave for the night.
Usually, Austin, the bodyguard outside the private door, walked the girls to their cars, but with Angel being directly under my care on order from Gunner, it would be my responsibility to see her home.
* * *
I met Angel by the back door, hands shoved in my jeans pockets to keep from touching her as she approached. Ave tagged along behind her, eyeing me.
“You did great today,” Ave told the younger girl, pulling her in for a quick hug while glaring at me as if to say to take it easy on the child.
I clung to the word, telling myself Hannah was too young, too inexperienced for a man like me. Made me fucking want her all the more.
I pushed open the door and led the way, making sure the back gated lot was clear of sick fucks who would try to get their hands on her. Heavy silence hung over us as we walked across the blacktop, the night sounds of traffic out front, air conditioners, and TVs from people’s nearby open windows.
Once out on the main street, I strode south, needing to get Hannah home so I could escape the temptation flaring through every cell of my body.
“Do you hate me?” She finally broke the silence a block away from her apartment building.
“No.” I clipped my answer short.
“You stare at me while I’m dancing like you want to hold me down and fuck me right there onstage, but otherwise, you act like you want me dead.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, clenching my eyes shut for a second, combating the conflicting images of fucking and blood from my brain. “I don’t mess with our girls,” I forced between clenched teeth. A bald-faced lie, and she probably knew it if our dancers gossiped like I’d heard they did.
“But you want to mess with me,” she said, coming to a stop at her building’s entrance. “What’s holding you back? I’m wet. Willing.”
Pale green eyes, luminous in the street lights stared up at me, and my dick swelled in my jeans to the point of pain. Wet, willing pussy -- one of my favorite things in the entire fucking world.
“Good night, Hannah.” I spun and strode back the way we’d come, my boots slapping at the sidewalk.
“Bastard.” Her mutter reached my ears a second before the front door to her building slammed shut. I glanced over my shoulder and peered through the glass door to make sure she’d gotten in safe and sound. Her lush ass swayed as she stomped across the brightly lit foyer toward the stairs.
* * *
Two days later, I sat in the Outlaw’s bar at the compound a few miles north of town, a shot of whiskey in hand, the tension in my neck and shoulders bad enough I wanted to eat a goddamn bullet.
Gunner, Drac, our vice president, and Val sat at the small table with me, filling me in on our demand for ransom from Samuel Harris and his wife.
“Usual reply,” Val said, sitting back with his arms crossed. “They want proof of life.”
Having Hannah tied up already in my mind, I found myself grinning. Perfect fucking opportunity to blow a little steam. “Get me today’s paper from her hometown, and I’ll get you a picture to send them.”
Gunner shot me a glance. “Should I ask?”
My grin stayed in place. “Let’s just say I know the best way to make her look in desperate need of salvation.”
Drac, named for the teeth he liked to mark women with as much as I did with my knives, snorted while shaking his head, causing his long, curly hair atop his head to fall over his forehead in a blond wave. “Have anything to do with those ropes and knives you’re so fond of?”
I touched the side of my nose.
“I’m headed south later today,” Val said, shutting down his laptop. “I’ll grab a paper.”
“Tonight, then.” I slapped my palms on the table and stood. “I’ll text it over to you before midnight since
she’s dancing at ten.”
“How’s she doing?” Gunner asked before slamming back a shot.
“Place has been packed the last two nights.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he poured another for him and Drac. Val shook his head when offered. “She holds a hat in her teeth for tips instead of offering the side strings of her thong. Crawls around and fills that fucker up -- keeping clear of all hands.”
“You watching over her like I said?”
“When she’s not on stage, yeah. Cameras got the place covered. I’ve been walking her home, too.”
“Staying over?”
“Fuck, no.” I didn’t add we rarely spoke more than two words in passing, or that when she did attempt conversation, I shut her down.
“Just claim the bitch already,” Drac mumbled, but I didn’t take offense. He called all women bitches. “Everyone can see you want to. Fuck.” He shifted and pulled his shot glass close. “Word has it you’re out of your goddamn mind over her.”
Drac enjoyed getting a rise out of just about everyone, but I ignored him. Gunner peered up at me, and I waited for him to make what he would of my answer. A single nod a few seconds later sent me on my way, Drac’s chuckle following me out the door.
I took up my front and center seat five minutes before Angel went onstage, lounging back with my arms crossed, same as always. Unaffected on the outside even though my stomach churned and heart raced.
Damn woman had my skin itching and no amount of scratching satisfied.
The plan I’d set for the proof of life picture had my dick pressed hard along my right thigh, but indecision on how far to take things ate at my mind. Getting the image was easy enough. Making her appear the frazzled, kidnapped victim, a pure pleasure. But giving her what she’d been after since landing a job at the club, while a great temptation, warred with keeping me keeping my sanity.
Attempting to fuck her out my system might work, but what if my obsession took a turn for the worse? The taste of her pussy had been like sugar on my tongue, the sounds she’d made while coming an aphrodisiac to my ears. Tearing through her cherry with my aching dick could make the madness worse.
Taking a chance like that would mess with my fucking life. Land me in a mental hospital, or worse, six feet under from a death penalty such a man deserved -- same as my goddamn father.
No. The lights dimmed, and Ave announced Angel. Tease, picture, then please. I will at least give her that -- and enjoy myself in the fucking process.
Angel’s gaze locked on my face the second she sashayed from behind the curtain, same as the previous three nights. Music thumped through my blood, singeing my body as she fucked the goddamn pole like it was my dick, head thrown back, pale neck gleaming in the spotlights. Lips parted as though begging for release, begging to be claimed. Used, and hard.
Fuck. I shifted on my chair, ignoring the salivating pricks around me as she slid to her knees and crawled my way. I remained outwardly unfazed as she moved closer. Hands other than mine grabbed at her, but she stayed just beyond reach.
Even with spotlights, her pupils dilated as she stared at me, licking her parted lips, dollar bills floating to the stage around her hands and knees.
Goddamn woman.
My body tensed like a fucking spring, tempting me to grab and plunder right fucking there, but I rooted to that chair and watched as she crawled along the stage edge as close as she dared, sexy little hat held between her teeth collecting donations for pleasing the men in the club.
One last slow stand in her fuck-me stilettos, a shake of her ass with its bit of satin for a thong, and she exited backstage.
My heart pounded, dick ached, as I made my way through the throng to the hallway out back. She’d already disappeared into the girls’ changing room, and I threw the door open. “Hannah!” I barked her name as though pissed.
She jerked her attention from the silken-like robe she wrapped around her body.
“Ooo…” Kat all but purred with a giggle. “Go get him, Angel.”
Kitty swore and smacked her sister from where they sat at their makeup tables, but I ignored their antics in my periphery, my focus all for Hannah and her slow smile. Little minx sauntered toward me with a glint in her eye.
Thought she’d finally gotten to me. Inwardly, I chuckled. She had no idea my level of self-control.
“Follow me.” Hands clenched at my sides, I spun and started toward the stairs leading up to the private rooms on the second floor.
The first of the five available rooms held items I’d readied earlier, and I unlocked and pushed into the dim interior, stepping aside for Hannah to follow me in.
Her gaze flitted around as I shut and locked the door again behind her. Skin pebbled and lips parted, she glanced at me, a question and a whole lot of lust in her wide eyes.
I smiled a slow smile of my own, just enough for my dimple to appear. “Take off the robe and get on the bed, sugar.”
A shudder rippled over her, and she did as told, suddenly acting the virgin, on her back, thighs pressed tight.
“In the middle,” I said, moving to the foot of the bed. “Spread your legs.”
My focus honed in on the white satin already soaked from arousal as she spread her milky thighs.
Hands fucking shaking, I wrapped the ties on the footboard to her ankles. Her gulp deepened my smile, but I kept my mouth shut, the silent predator, her supposed kidnapper, the man who would provide the proof of life to get the club its extortion money. One of many men who wanted to claim every hole, every inch of her trembling body. The only one to ever have her tied up for the taking.
Once bound tight, she blinked at me as I trailed my fingertips up the inside of her spread legs, up over her pubic bone, her taut stomach, to the small swell of her pert tits. The pulse fluttered in her neck as I tied her wrists to the headboard. Stepping back, I took in my work.
Spread-eagled, bound tight to a metal bed frame she’d never escape from without my knife. Skin covered in goose bumps, the musky scent of her filling the room.
My dick jerked in my jeans, and I palmed myself through the denim, drawing her gaze off my face.
She licked her lips, and I groaned. Perhaps I’d allow myself release after hers. Without a word, I pulled my knife from my boot sheath. Hannah swallowed, her gaze jerking from my cock to my knife then my face.
I forced a sick, twisted grin. “Tempt the devil, pay the price,” I murmured, spinning the blade in my hand.
She fucking moaned like she wanted it -- needed it -- and I bit back my growl.
Death of me. I moved closer anyway.
Chapter Four
Hannah
The glint in Bowie’s eye should have scared the crap out of me, but my body shivered with eagerness and more wetness coated my panties. His attention on me while I had danced had made me a panting mess, same as every time I’d taken the stage, and even though he hadn’t kissed or touched me beneath my clothing since that first time in his office, I burned with need, on the verge of exploding.
He slid his knife’s sharp edge up my thigh, and had any hair remained, I felt sure its sharp edge would have shaved it clean.
A shudder rippled over me as he caught the edge of my thong and flicked his wrist, slicing through the material like butter. Cool air floated across my bare lower lips as he tugged the ruined, soaked panties from my body.
The ridge along his right thigh snagged my attention again, and my mouth drooled as he slid his blade up my stomach. I groaned as he sliced through the shelf bra. The air caressed my hardened nipples, and I bit my lower lip, so damn hungry for him, his cock, that I shivered and shook uncontrollably.
Even covered by jeans, the sight, the tease of his length had me wondering if he would fit inside me. Mercy, I couldn’t wait to find out.
Bowie scraped the back of his knife over my erect nipples, and I fought the need to arch into the bite of the cold metal, a gasp flying from my lips.
“Mmm.” His murmur sent another rush of wetness
between my thighs, dripping down over my ass. “Naughty girl likes a little pain.” He scraped the other nipple, and I clenched my eyes shut as pure pleasure shot straight to my clit.
“O-Oh…” I ground my hips into the mattress, seeking release. Silky material slid over my eyes, and I tried to blink against the blindfold he wrapped around my head and tied tight.
Bound and blindfolded just like the woman in the image above his desk.
Yes, oh, yes please. I trembled and panted, my breath loud in my ears as I strained to hear what he did.
The swish of material sounded. Did he pull off his shirt? Shove down his jeans and palm his hard cock?
Paper crinkled -- or was it a condom?
The end of the bed dipped a long minute later, and I swallowed loudly. Hot breath wafted over my pussy, and I moaned, my hips moving on their own. The cold flat of his blade pressed against the inside of my thigh, and I stilled.
Waiting.
Barely breathing.
He moved the blade up toward my pussy. “So creamy… Fuck.” His voice shook the slightest bit while he scraped the wetness off my lower lips with the edge of his knife. The heat of him hit my chest as he leaned over me. “Stick out your tongue, sugar.”
I did as told without thought.
“Taste how wet you are for me.”
Oh God. He smeared the flat of his blade over my tongue, coating me with my tangy arousal.
“So goddamn hot.” He groaned as I swallowed what he’d given me.
The heat of him disappeared and I whimpered, my hips once more moving. Arousal rushed through me as my mind raced. Would he be gentle? Impale me with one thrust? Use his fingers --
Bowie ran his hot tongue up over my pussy, and I moaned, lifting my hips to keep him there.
“So sweet,” he mumbled against my clit. “So needy and slick.” He lapped at me, and I yanked against my bonds, needing to touch him, hold his head to my pussy until I shattered. The inability to move heightened every sensation, the blindness making my imagination the fantasy I’d gotten myself off to every night since meeting him.