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ie and yanking his face right into my tits. He moans, his whole body quivering, and I fight the eye roll.
Best thing to do here? Lose myself in my own fantasies.
So I straddle this dude’s lap and start writhing on him, tipping my head back and letting my thoughts drift.
I can almost pretend he has strong, wide shoulders, ripped abs, and a cock that will make me scream as he rams me with it.
Dipping down, I grind my pussy against his cock, and hello, he actually does have some decent equipment. I focus on that, rubbing myself on him over and over. Then I run my hands up his chest and neck, imagining my favorite fantasy—dark, dangerous eyes, almost as black as the hair I grip in my fists.
Fuck. There goes that. His thin strands of hair slip through my fingers.
Okay, new plan.
I stand and turn, bending over so he can get an eyeful of my ass. I run my finger inside my thong, working him up even more. I can see his legs shaking as he watches.
Then I back up, straddling him again, this time in reverse, and I squeeze my tits, rolling my nipples between my thumbs and index fingers as I lower my hips, rubbing my ass all over his slightly above-average cock.
I touch myself, determined that I’ll get something out of this too. My pussy throbs when I rub my clit, and I feel myself get wet.
I figure this guy knows it, too, because he starts mumbling and groaning, gripping the booth on either side of his thighs. I’m driving him crazy, I know it. I rub my ass harder on his cock, then some desperate, strangled cry rips from his throat. I stop, looking down, not sure if I should be shocked or not.
Dude has just cum in his pants, and all I did was grind on him. I mean, I know I’m all kinds of fuckable, but seriously?
I get up, all respect for this guy gone. He holds out a wad of Benjamins, looking at me like I just rocked his world, and I take them, stuffing them into my panties and turning my back without another word.
I walk to the bar, needing a drink after that bullshit. Some of the girls come up to me, eyes wide in awe as they see the fat wad of cash. Five hundred dollars. That brings me to a cool three grand today, and the night is still young.
“Shit, Ella,” one of them says, “you have to be a fucking millionaire by now.”
I smirk. Try multi-millionaire. I have this gig wrapped up.
Holding up the shots the bartender sets out, we toast to our fortunes and knock them back.
I slam it back on the bar and scan the room, looking for my next job.
Just then, the front doors fly open, and all eyes zero in on the man entering as if he’s the fucking king of the world.
But holy shit. Tall, dark, and handsome, he’s my favorite fantasy come to life.
He dominates the entire room with his presence, just standing there in the door with an arrogant smirk on his mouth. A mouth that makes my pussy throb just imagining what it would feel like between my legs.
He scans the room, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
I see the other strippers I’m hanging with looking at him the same way, and I pull rank.
“Sorry, girls. I call dibs.”
3
Derek
I stand in the entry of the strip club and take it all in. Hell to the yeah. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Women all over the place with hardly any clothes on? Fuck yes.
And these ladies know what’s up. No games here. Straight up sex and nothing less. No expectations.
I stroll in, the driving beat sinking into my bones, putting even more swagger than usual into my step. These women are mine for the taking.
A cocktail waitress in the tiniest excuse of a uniform approaches me, lust in her eyes as she looks me up and down. “What can I do for you?”
