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The corners of his lips turn upward in a shadow of a smile, and suddenly, it feels like the power balance has shifted just a little. It's enough to embolden me, to make me believe that maybe, just maybe, I've got a fighting chance at pulling this off.
Chapter 5 - Boris
The darkness surrounds me as I sit back on the couch with the blindfold on.
I’ve never been one for lap dances and strip clubs, but she’s clearly new and trying. Might as well let her practice on me. Her hands glide over my shoulders, my chest.
"Relax," she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. To my surprise, she inches her hands to my collar and guides my jacket off. Then, she pushes me against the back. I frown, not habituated to giving up control, but force myself to settle into the chair.
“How about we give you a birthday neither of us can forget?” she mutters, sliding her hands down my chest to rest on my waist. Her fingers graze the edge of the blindfold, her breath hot against my skin.
This lap dance is a birthday gift from my cousins, a joke to tease the perpetual bachelor. I went along with it, never expecting this bolt of desire to shoot through me when she wished me a happy birthday like that.
Her scent envelops me, innocent and intoxicating. I picture her in my mind based on what I have assessed from just her voice, touch, and feel: average height, curves the in right places, and long, straight hair. The image stirs something deep inside, a curiosity to see more.
My hands clench on the armrests. She's just a stripper, I remind myself.
But my body doesn't listen. Her hands find my shoulders, light as a feather, uncertain. Then, slowly, she lowers herself onto my lap, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she tries to find a rhythm. It's clumsy and endearing, nothing like the experiencedwomen who have ground their hips against mine in the past, often with clear agendas.And damn if it doesn't turn me on more.
“It’s a first for both of us in some ways, isn’t it? Have you ever been with a girl who never danced for another man before?” she whispers in my ear. Her voice is soft, like honey against my skin. But her words? Her words are like a fucking aphrodisiac.
I swallow a groan, acutely aware this is her first time giving a lap dance.
I feel her warmth through the thin fabric of my suit trousers, a heat that seems to burn straight through to my cock. The faint rustle of her clothes and the brush of her hair against my cheek paint a vivid picture, even as I see nothing at all. I'm a man accustomed to power and taking what I want, but right now, I'm captivated by her hesitance and her purity. It's a novel, maddening sensation.
"Am I doing it right?" There's an earnestness to her question, a need for reassurance that claws at my restraint.
"Better than right," I assure her, my hands itching to guide her and show her how to unleash the passion I can sense bubbling just beneath her surface. But I hold back, letting her explore, letting her set the pace.
Leaning back, I focus on the rise and fall of her hips, each movement growing bolder and more assured as she finds her confidence.
Her movements become a meditative trance and I close my eyes, feeling every inch of her. She begins to grind on my dick, bouncing up and down. She gently takes one of my hands and places it on her belly. The next thing I know, she’s got one arm wrapped around my neck and the other on the couch, balancing her body as she sways like she’s riding a bull.
My hand moves automatically to her grinding. I gently slide it up and down, tracing the curve of her belly and the edge of her pelvis, and then, to my surprise, she pulls it up. I reach the swell of her breast, and suddenly, my cock erupts to full length. She moans, and I release a pained whimper. Her breast feels soft and full under my touch.
“God, I wish I could see you,” I whisper before I even realize I’m talking.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles but says no more. And so, I keep the blindfold on. She begins to circle her pussy around my hardened dick over my trousers. Then, she begins to grind harder on me. I sit back, one hand still behind my neck and the other on the curve of her hip. I let her do her thing, and she loses herself completely. Her moans grow louder, her movements more desperate, like she's seeking something from this darkness that she can't find anywhere else.
Despite my best efforts to stay in control, my own desire begins to overtake me. I can feel the beads of sweat on her forehead, her heart racing against my chest, her breaths becoming ragged and needy. As she continues to grind, I can feel her wetness seeping through my trousers, and it's like an electric shock to my system. The smell of her arousal fills my nose, a potent mix of citrus and something sweet, intoxicating.
"I... I don't know what I'm doing," she pants, sounding desperate and aroused all at once.
"You’re doing well," I reassure her, trying to sound calm and in control, but my own heart is racing and my breathing is becoming ragged. "Just let go. Let yourself feel."
The moment arrives when I can't hold back any longer. I instinctively grip her hips, pushing her down onto me as I thrust upward.
A shiver runs through her, and I feel a tremble in the air between us. Robin's breath hitches, and there's a sudden tightness around me that tells a story all on its own. She gasps a soft, uncontrollable sound.
Her movements stutter, then freeze altogether.
The significance of her reaction hits me like a ton of bricks. She came.
I grip the armrests to stop myself from reaching for her with both hands and claiming her as mine, my knuckles turning white. She's untouched, innocent—and I brought her to climax without even touching her.
The knowledge thrills me, a burst of primitive male pride flaring to life. I want to be the one to awaken her desires, to give her pleasure.
"Sorry," she whispers, the word laced with embarrassment and something akin to wonder. But I'm already past the point of no return, past the point of mere curiosity or amusement.
