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I feel a sudden, throbbing arousal that jolts through me, my cock lurching to a full, almost painful hardness as I look at the gorgeous woman writhing on the lounge, fingers rubbing her clit again as she exposes her pussy to the sea of eyes watching her, and I can see that she’s genuinely wet.
And she’s still looking right at me.
I can’t remember the last time I was this hard. A strange, almost jealous feeling sweeps through me. I want to get up and stride to the stage, grab her and drag her off of it so that no one else can see, push her into a dark corner, and fall to my knees in front of her so I can taste that sweet, wet pussy on my tongue. And at the same time, I want to go up there and spread her legs wider, shove my throbbing cock into her and fuck her while every man in the room watches, until—
There’s a cool dampness in the fabric against my cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip, the throbbing increasing as my hand tightens around my glass. I’ve never seen anything so fucking hot in my life, never experiencedanythinglike this. Every thought of leaving has flown out of my head as I watch her squirm and pant on the velvet beneath her, fingers rubbing faster over her clit, and I realize with a dim sort of wonder that she’s going to come.
She can’t possibly—it can’t bereal, can it?
It has to be a performance.I tell myself that as I watch her tense, her body arching in a way that tells me she’s close to climax—real or faked. And the way she moves, the way her mouth opens, the pure pleasure in her face as her legs spread wider and she shudders, moaning loudly enough that it can be heard over the music—
It doesn’tseemfake.
This is her job, you idiot,I think as I watch her, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as her face when she orgasms, the way her perfect hourglass-shaped body moves, and all I can think about is how she would feel underneath me, how those legs would feel wrapped around my hips, her wet, hot pussy clenching around my cock as she comes for me—
Her gaze is still holding mine. It held mine the entire time, right up until the moment she came and her eyes fluttered closed, and it feels like shedidcome for me, like all of this was for me—
My cock throbs dangerously, and I realize with a dim sense of horror that I’m very close to losing control myself. My cock is tangled in my boxer briefs, the fabric clinging to me with the wetness of my pre-cum, and I gulp back the rest of the whiskey, pushing the glass across the bar to the blond man standing behind it as I stand up abruptly—and a little painfully.
I know I’m not the only man in the room with a hard-on, and somehow that makes it worse. I feel that burn of jealousy again, a hot, angry feeling towards every man here that’s hard for her right now, wanting her, and it makes no fucking sense.
Iknowit doesn’t make sense. What makes even less sense is the anger I feel as I see the winning man stand up from the poker table, a smug look on his face as he looks up at the stage to his prize, and imagine her with him.
Even more so when I realize who it is—or at least grasp the concept, even if I can’t remember the man’s name. It’s hard to think of anything at all with how my cock is throbbing, pushing every other thought out of my head except for how desperate I am to come as I watch the man walk towards Nikolai. The woman is sitting up, her legs closed now, and all I can think about is how she’s probably still fluttering inside, her clit throbbing, how the heat of her would feel still squeezing around my aching length—
Christ, I have to come.I push through the crowd, not bothering to look for Flynn as I stride towards the sign for the men’s room, trying not to think about how the leader of the new Bratva organization in town is the one who will be fucking her tonight. Theo and I talked about him just last week, about what difficulties he might cause—but every one of those thoughts flicks out of my head only half-formed as I stride quickly through the door and into the nearest stall, my hand reaching for my zipper before I even get the door fully closed.
I let out a hiss as my hand closes around my hard cock, my other hand braced against the wall as I lean forward, stroking quick and hard as I picture the woman on the stage. In my head, we’re both on the stage, me straddling her as I push my cockhead against those plush red lips, the lipstick smearing over my tip as her tongue—
“Oh god.Fuck—” I thrust into my hand, pre-cum smearing over my fingers as I press them beneath the tip of my cock, rubbing as I imagine her sucking me, those dark eyes wide as she looks up at me and moans around my shaft. I’d let her suck me almost to the point of coming, feel that throb in my balls as I thrust between those perfect lips—I imagine her hand between her thighs again, rolling over her clit, pleasuring herself as she takes my cock deeper into her throat, until I was so close that I couldn’t take it any longer and I’d pull free.
I squeeze my cock, panting as my hand stutters over the throbbing length, imagining myself parting her legs wide, pushing them up, her knees to the side as I thrust into her, all of the eyes in the club watching asItake her, fuck her, make her mine, until she’s moaning and coming around my cock, coming for me, and then—
“Fuck, fuck—” I hiss between my teeth as my cock throbs hotly in my hand, cum spurting in a sudden hot rush from the tip as my hips jerk forward, fucking my hand the way I imagine I’m fucking her, the orgasm feeling as if it surges up from my very toes, catching me off guard with the force of it. I haven’t come this hard from jerking off in a long time, and I groan low and deep in my throat as I squeeze my hand along the shaft, the last of my cum dripping out as I shudder.
Dimly, the world comes back into focus around me, and I feel a faint sense of shame as I realize what I’ve just done—jerked off in a bathroom while thinking about a woman who doesn’t even know who I am.
But even as I think it, I remember her gaze on me, the way she’d watched me as she touched herself, the way it had so clearly looked as if she came forme, and only me.
It wasn’t real,I tell myself.She’s a performer. An escort. Nothing she does is real here.
I should feel more confident in that than I do. And as I tuck my cock away with the faint burn of embarrassment still on my cheeks and zip myself up, Iabsolutelyshould not be thinking of some way to see her again.
It’s a ridiculous idea.
And one that, as I leave to go and find Flynn, I can’t entirely shake loose.
Asha
“Get on your knees, bitch.”
I hate Matvei from the moment we step into the private room that I use for clients. He shuts the door behind him and turns to me with a look of cold arrogance in his eyes, his hand flicking carelessly towards me as he utters the command that I’d known he would.
A predictable man.
I can’t help pushing back. If he doesn’t like that, I’ll find out quickly enough. I narrow my eyes at him, tossing my hair back. “What if I don’t want to?” I ask in a teasing, sultry voice. Sometimes, men who want submissives also want brats, andthat’sa role I can play without too much trouble on my part, even if I still dislike the part where I have to give in eventually. But I can resist for a little while, at least.
But Matvei moves towards me faster than I can blink, his fingers slipping under the leather of the collar at my throat and clenching around it, yanking me down to my knees. “I saidgeton yourfuckingknees,” he snarls, snatching me down hard enough that my knees hit the floor with a sharp jolt of pain. I clench my teeth against a whimper, glaring up at him, and his other hand knots in my hair, dragging my head back.
