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Chapter Seventeen
Tessa danced. She threw herself into a savage abandon, jostled and jolted by a throng of dancers around her.
The handsome fellow who whisked her onto the dance floor was hypnotized by her undulating groin, the way it pulsed against his when they were close, and the way it swayed lasciviously as he watched.
She was gorgeous. He didn’t know her name, but the moment she walked in the door of the club, he knew she was the woman he’d hit on. She was hot, the kind of nasty slut who’d last the night. The more she danced the more she turned him on. Her long blonde hair moved sensuously as her upper moved to the music; he couldn’t wait to run his hands through her soft curls. Her mini skirt was riding so high on her thighs that he could see the lacy tops of her black stockings. She had smooth hips, firm legs and the hint of a very fine crotch at the bottom of it all. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, her nipples were pierced. He could see the hint of her jewelry through the lacy bra beneath her sheer blouse; and in just the right light, he could see the dark shades of her aureoles, the erect buds, and a glint of gold winking through the creamy fabric.
He’d sleep with her. After all, he was the hottest stud in the club on any night. The best dancer, he wooed women with easy self-assurance, and he made love like Casanova.
He found her provocative smirk amusing; her body making his dick hard. What a tease this chick could be. She’d be a hellion in bed, fuck for hours, suck cock, maybe even take it in between her sweet ass cheeks. “Yes, that’s what I want,” he thought to himself, “that tight little ass, Oh man, what a score he’d make tonight.”
Her hips seemed to confound physics the way they moved. With a hand on the edge of her of her mini skirt, she teased his voyeuring eyes, pretending to pull it up. ‘Gawd, yes, do it babe, show me that cunt,’ he whispered to himself. His eyes were ready to explode from their sockets, as little by little the skirt rose higher on her hips, until he could see a little flesh at the bottom of her smooth, shaved pussy. ’Gawd, she’d shaved!’ He reached in-between her legs and felt the moist wet skin. Planting his lips on hers, he pushed his tongue between them, mimicking what he wanted to do with his cock.
She backed away, her lips glistening from the wet kiss. She was showing him more. ’My god! The little slut’s gonna show me her puss right there on the dance floor!’ She raised the center of her skirt. ‘Goddam! she’s pierced!’ he exclaimed silently. A little more and her pussy was practically bared for his eyes, ‘What the hell, there’s a bar pierced into her pubic mounds, holding her pussy lips wide open! Damn what a slut!’” His cock was erect, pre-cum seeping all over his jockeys.
She flashed him a wickedly, amused smile; her nostrils flared. Then, she lowered her skirt just enough so she was decent again, though he could still catch peeks at her naked flesh when she danced in front of him. Moving on his crotch with hers, they danced groin to groin mimicking the act of sex.
He thought he’d died and was jetting to heaven . . . though heaven would soon vanish, even more quickly than it had appeared.
As music played and the slut writhed in front of him, Young Casanova caught a glimpse of a man from the corner of his eye. Behind the blonde, his figure loomed darkly—a man of means and some years. His slicked back black hair was tied into a ponytail, and wearing a black shirt, black jeans and black cowboy boots, he looked like some creature from hell, a fashionable hell perhaps, but with a nasty accompanying expression on his face. He was no one to tangle with.
Her boyfriend perhaps. “Damn just my luck,” he groaned to himself.
Moving in behind the blonde, the dark man whispered in the woman’s ear. She answered and he grabbed her by the arm. Young Casanova watched his gorgeous temptress disappear into the crowd, only a brief wave of her hand and the wink of an eye to remain in his memory as a memento of what he might have had that night.
His limousine was waiting for them.
The sudden change happened so fast, her head was spinning with confusion.
She’d heard his voice in her ear, just as she was showing off her lusty jewelry to a peach of guy, with tight buns and a terrific sense of rhythm. She was having fun. “And why not?” she thought to herself. Hibernating in her apartment for three days, nursing the agony of the bar in her cunt made her pent up and restless. Getting out was the best thing she could do for herself. She couldn’t wait around forever. When the fourth night came, Martine was out the door in a flash, off to see Miles Tessa presumed.
Damn, if she was going to stay home another night alone; so she dressed like a lusty whore and planned to act like one. Yet, even when he spoke to her on the crowded dance floor, his unexpected voice rattled her like an earthquake.
“You have plans to exhibit your finery to the entire place?” He spoke as if he thought her some immoral harlot, his judgmental tone wreaking havoc on her brain. He was furious with her, she could tell by the passion emanating from his calm reserve. It made her body titter, aroused and afraid.
“How did you find me?” she whispered, still dancing to the perplexed glances of her impromptu lover.
“I know your habitat, I know your weakness.”
He made her feel promiscuous, as if dancing was a sin. But her body liked that feeling too—naughty, like a little girl breaking rules. Maybe he’d spank her for the offense.
“You’re leaving now,” he’d said. She wouldn’t fight him; his voice grabbed her as surely as if she was tethered on a leash.
She’d smiled to her gentleman fellow. Poor man would have to spend his evening in fantasy.
Outside the club, Miles pushed her into the waiting limousine. “On the floor,” he ordered.
She was too shocked to react right off, sitting down on the seat. Her faux pas was greeted with an instantaneous response from Miles as he pushed her roughly to the floor where she belonged. Tessa was immediately in tears, though she moved to a submissive pose at his feet.
“You have forty eight hours of unquestioned obedience to survive. Let’s just hope you can live up to your own expectations.”
It must be Damien’s Ball, she thought.
“You weren’t at your apartment when I arrived tonight,” Miles said.
“You expected I’d be there?” Tessa questioned, trying not to be testy. “You gave me no orders after our last meeting.”
“You still have problems anticipating your dominant’s will. I thought you more intuitive than that.”
