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His question makes me blush all the way down to the roots of my hair. I suck in a breath and push off his brawny chest, trying to play it off. Admittedly, I’m a little wobbly as I step away from his lap.
I turn around, letting him look at my ass. “I thought you might appreciate a different view.”
He glances up at me, his gaze tightening on my face. But after a second he shrugs a shoulder and reaches out to touch my ass cheek. “Your ass is perfect. Do you know that?”
I blush as I bend down to touch the floor, using my hands to push up onto my tiptoes again. Mr. X seems to like that, shifting his weight and bringing his hand back to the crotch of his slacks.
“Tell me you’ll be mine,” he says, his voice gone to gravel. “Dance just for me. Let me be your patron, Cerise.”
I sway along with the music. “You’ll have to give me a better name to call you than Mr. X.” I say, smiling.
He smirks. “Sit on my lap right now, beauty, and I’ll whisper it in your ear.”
I grin and take a seat on his lap, twerking rhythmically. Instantly his hands land on my hips. His cock is pressed against my ass. He groans and leans forward, whispering in my ear.
“You can call me Calum.”
I reach back and knot my fingers in his nape, steadying myself as my hips work. “Oh, Calum…” I let out the breathiest moan.
“Fuck, I’m going to?—“
He thrusts almost violently against my back a few times then lets out a roar. I feel his cock twitch against my skin. A small wet spot soon spreads out between us. The sound of him finishing is somewhere between fascinating and terrifying, gratifying and sobering.
“Fuck me,” he says, chuckling against the bare skin of my shoulder. “That was…”
He trails off as I swallow and get up off of his lap. I’m not sure how to talk to him just now.
It’s not that I didn’t want him to… complete. It’s more that I don’t want him to expect it every time he comes to see me.
I’m not sure how to bring that up to him, so I busy myself taking off my ballet slippers instead.
He sprawls back against the leather booth, throwing a hand over his eyes. “I know that it’s frowned upon to come when you’re touching me.”
I set the slippers on the leather bench where he’s sitting, walking to my pair of heels. What am I supposed to say?
That I wanted him to come?
I did. But that doesn’t make it legal. It was prostitution, technically.
…right?
I slip on my heels without saying anything. He sits up, eyeing me. “Where were you trained, Cerise?”
I fumble with one of the straps to my heels. My heart starts beating loudly in my ears. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He produces a shiny black card, holding it up as a present for me. When I stalk over to grab it, his free hand comes up and ensnares my wrist. “Yes, you do. It was somewhere good, I can tell you that much. Was it here in New York City?”
My eyes widen. Under no circumstances am I about to tell him a damn thing about my personal life. That’s dangerous territory.
“That’s way more than you need to know. Why don’t you leave something to the imagination?”
I pluck the card from his hand, my lips pasted in a frozen smile. He lets it go, his gaze narrowing on my face.
In the next moment, he sits back and shrugs. “Okay. How about you give me a phone number, then? I want to be able to call on you when I need you.”
Mia’s voice erupts out of my throat. “When I see a signed contract, you can get me a phone.”
Calum arches a brow. “Is that so?”
