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“Come here,” he growled, and oh, fuck, that rasp was so sexy. I shuddered despite myself, despite my professionalism—no. Who was I kidding? There was no professionalism left here.
Cameras, I mouthed, and his jaw tightened. My legs were shaky as I lifted myself from the chair, prowling back towards him and dropping down, running my hands up his tense legs all the way to the top, my gaze flicking down to the obvious tent in his trousers. As I rolled my body up, I made a decision that I never, ever should have made. One that could put my job in jeopardy, but I was too far gone to stop.
“If you want more, come to the employee door next to the bar in two minutes. It’s the black one with the keypad,” I whispered before darting my tongue out to taste his skin—salty and delicious.
Then, I forced myself to step away until I was outside the door of the private room, and I could finally breathe again.
Was he going to take me up on my offer? There was a huge risk to both of us—more so me than him, but this could get him barred from Sanctuary, and my boss, Austin De Witt, was someone you didn’t want to cross, either.
It didn’t stop me from hitting the panel that led to the employee corridor and making my way as quickly as I could down the passageway to the other door that led back out into the club, where I’d told him to wait.
When I inched the door open, my breath caught in my throat. He was there, dark desire in his eyes and no hesitation at all as he shouldered his way inside, crowding me up against the wall. Height-wise, he only had a few inches on me, but it felt as if his entire body was covering mine as he pressed into me.
“Tell me there are no cameras in here,” he rasped, and I immediately shook my head, even though I didn’t know for sure. Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I dragged him down the corridor to the closest place I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed—my corner of the dancers’ dressing room, which was nicknamed “The Glamoriser.” A heavy curtain was all that separated it from the main section with the mirrors, outfits, and makeup, and there wasn’t much to it—just three walls and a wooden bench seat with the curtain across the front. But if both of us could stay quiet, we wouldn’t be caught.
“If anyone comes in, don’t say a word,” I breathed, as he yanked the curtain shut and then crowded me back up against the wall, this time with my front pressed against the smooth surface, the heat of his body covering my back.
His head lowered to my ear, his lips skimming over the lobe. “What do you want?”
“Whatever you want to give me.”
“I want to give you so many fucking things.” He shifted against me, grinding his erect cock against my ass, and I moaned.
“I want you to fuck me with your big dick.”
“Lube and condoms?” His voice was so hoarse.
“Yeah. Just a second.” Bending at the waist, I reached under the bench seat for my bag, feeling around in the pocket where I kept my supplies. Straightening up again, I reached back, pressing them into his hands.
There was a second of silence, and then I felt his fingers curl around the packets as he dipped his head back to my ear. “You’re so fucking flexible.”
“Mmm. I am. You should see me suck my own dick.”
A strangled sound came from behind me, and then his entire body weight was pressing into my back. “Fuck. You’re driving me insane.”
“Likewise. Fuck me now, please.”
He muttered to himself, and above the distinctive sound of a zipper opening, followed by the tear of the condom and lube packets, I heard him say, “I never do this.”
My cock and my ego swelled at the thought that I was the one to break through his boundaries. Maybe he was one of those repressed “straight” men who liked to get off with a man and then go home to their wives and pretend nothing had ever happened—but no. He hadn’t seemed like that. Just…tense and kind of uptight in general. Whatever. The fact was, he was here, and his?—
Oh. Without any warning, my shorts were yanked down, and a big palm was settling between my shoulder blades, applying pressure until I bowed forwards. Stepping out of my shorts, I widened my legs, arching my back, and I was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
Then, a finger circled my hole, coated with a generous amount of lube, and pushed inside.
“More,” I commanded. “I need your cock inside me.”
A low chuckle came from behind me, another finger pressing inside to join the first, pumping in and out in a slow, lazy movement. “More already? Such a little cockslut, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
The chuckle sounded again, this time slightly disbelieving, and a hand slid up my torso, over my chest, and onto my throat. “This is fucking madness. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t stop.”
“Leave your mark on me. I want a necklace.” My hand stretched up to cover his, squeezing, and he got the hint. His fingertips closed around my throat, taking care to apply pressure only where it was safe, and that level of care made my dick throb and leak even more.
“Another?” he questioned, already pressing a third finger inside, circling all three digits and opening me up, purposely avoiding my prostate as he did so. This fucking man knew exactly what he was doing.
Definitely not straight.
