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So then why did my back arch? Why did I keep my mouth so near to his, and why did I want him to close the distance so damned bad I thought my body was going to shatter into a million pieces if he didn’t touch me right then and there?
Why was he being such a stickler for the rules in the first place?
What would he taste like? He smelled of champagne, of something sweeter beneath it, a bit like cinnamon hearts. Harsh yet sugary.
I wanted to feel what his tongue would be like against mine. I licked my lips, swallowing at the thought as my pussy rubbed against his clothed cock once more, the gun still pressing into my thigh.
His hand left my breast as we stared into each other's eyes, and he reached down, cupping my ass cheek, and I swore I could feel him egg me on just the slightest bit with that grasp. His eyes shut, but only for a moment as he gave a low, rumbling moan of approval at my motions.
“You will come back to my hotel room tonight,” he said, dictating what would happen to me so firmly, authoritatively. “You will spend the whole night, and eat breakfast with me come morning. But between then, I will discipline you for your tempting of the rules tonight. I like you, and I would be remiss if I did not correct your deviant behaviour, Ruby.”
Discipline me?
My lips dropped open, and I swear, I tried to stop grinding my hips against him. I tried to stop searching for my orgasm against his clothed cock, but if I were to be honest, I was so damned close, and those dark words...
They were my tipping point.
I couldn’t have come at a worse time, because he was looking right at me, and it was so obvious. My nipples stiffened and I pushed my toes down in my heels as my skin went goose bumpy, and I couldn’t stifle the moan, even though I bit down on my lower lip.
But even if I could’ve hid all that, I couldn’t hide the way I was trembling like a maniac, grinding against him more urgently as I toppled over that precipice.
There was no going back from that.
I’d just cum all over a mob boss — my mob boss! — in a strip club.
That was definitely against the rules.
He never scolded me, never said a word in reprimand. Instead he pulled me in close against his hard body, held me tight, and stroked my skin. His hands on my back, my side, his thumb reaching on in to tease and prod my nipple, drawing out that orgasm, making the sweet climax last longer.
He was heaven in that moment, doing the right things to make my pleasure so sweet, to draw it out longer.
When I was done, left a shivering mass upon his lap, he murmured in my ear with that deep, gravelly voice of his.
“It’s okay. I know you do not do this for other clients. You’ll make it up,” he said so certainly, as if he had total control of everything, the club, me, the outcomes of all.
And I should’ve dreaded it, but oh no.
All I could think of was that I wanted more. So much more.
I pulled back enough to look at him, my eyes tracing over his handsome face as I flushed, my pale skin turning such a shade of pink.
“I’ve never,” I promised, confirming what he already seemed to know. “I’d never...”
“I know,” he said to me with such understanding. “But you are still fired,” and there was no joke or humour to him as he said that. I’d broken a rule and that was that, he was a man of his word, and his word was law.
Yet there was no time to be upset about it, because with that there were no more rules between us. He pressed his lips to mine and kissed me deeply, his tongue working betwixt my lips as his strong hands held and fondled me. I rested atop him as he held me more tenderly, more lovingly than any man before him ever had.
I trembled against him, both from my lingering orgasm and the shock of his words, or the fact that I’d just thrown away a job I loved and was so good at, just for that sweet pleasure.
Worse still was that I wrapped my arms more firmly about his neck, holding myself to him as he kissed me, his tongue glancing against mine. A moan reverberated through us and I was barely certain if it was mine or his, but I was still shaking, my entire body worked up to a state I’d never felt before.
We made out for so long like that, his manhood straining beneath me until even that giant mobster couldn’t contain himself. He stood up, me in his arms as if I were but a feather pillow.
He held me like that for a time before he finally set me back to my feet. His hand rested upon my cheek again, drawing my gaze to his for a shared moment.
He broke away only to pull away the curtain and gesture to a man — one of his henchmen? — that I’d not seen before. He certainly wasn’t a bouncer with how well dressed he was.
“Bring something warm for the lady to wear out, and get the car ready,” he instructed before turning back to me and pressing our lips together once more without delay.
