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The pumping music dulled around me, the bass vibrating under my bare feet as Zen took my hand and led me through the small maze of halls toward the back of the building.
A burgundy curtain pulled aside, and suddenly, Zen and I found ourselves alone in a private room as it closed again behind us.
A single booth sat in the middle of the cubby space, surrounding a raised platform from which a pole jutted upright. Zen ambled toward the black leather seat and sprawled out, nodding toward the small stage, and I froze, realizing that he expected me to climb up there.
“You said you wanted to dance for me,” he reminded me. “Up you go.”
I hesitated, unsure I could do it now that we were alone, the earlier adrenaline fading to sheer nervousness, but he continued to stare at me, his slate eye challenging, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. But more than that, I wanted to do this. I wanted him to watch me—to want me.
Inhaling, I padded toward the center, climbing carefully onto the platform. I rose easily, like I’d done it before, and from up there, I could hear the music better, my head closer to the speakers, the top part of the wall exposed, I assumed, for this express purpose.
“Come on,” he teased, leaning forward, his forearms on the thighs of his pants. “Let’s see what you can do, Little Mouse.”
I blushed furiously, realizing that he knew how I’d snuck into the club, and I leaned against the cold metal bar. Closing my eyes, I swayed rhythmically against the cool steel, hands falling over the curve of the too-taut material. My breathing was erratic, Zen’s stare burning through me, despite my closed lids, but I focused on the music, the feel of my fingertips against the strange material as I let myself fall into the beat.
Have I done this before?
My legs parted along with my eyelids, but only slightly to study Zen, who fell back comfortably against the tufted booth. Slowly, deliberately, my fingers snaked around the bodice of my breasts, hips swinging until my thighs twisted around the pole.
I was really doing this, and to my utter shock, I wasn’t bad at it!
My heart pounded wildly, but I didn’t overthink it, my hands freeing my breasts from the delicate confines of the dress, my nipples spilling forward.
The gleam in his eyes encouraged me forward, and I ignored the rhythmic pulse of my heart, falling into the beat of the music, allowing it to overtake me as he sat forward.
Zen bit his lower lip when I cupped myself, waist gyrating now, legs dipping lower. My pulse quickened again, the skirt stretching to its limits. My hands slid over the side of my hips, crossing across my pelvis.
Zen’s mouth parted, and he let out a low sigh—or I thought he did. Maybe I imagined it against the tempo of the music. Again, he licked his lips.
Refusing to overthink my movements, I parted my knees, spreading my thighs to fully expose myself to him. The hem of the dress rose up around my ass—and Zen was on me without warning.
I gasped in surprise as my calves fell over his shoulders, his hands yanking my ass cheeks upward and pulling my back flat against the stage.
He paused for barely half a second, his eyes boring into me as he waited for my consent, neither of us speaking as I simply nodded once, permitting him to do with me what he wanted. A slow smile formed across his lips, and I returned it, hardly daring to believe this was happening.
The hem of the dress slid fully up the cheeks of my ass and before I could utter a word, his tongue sank inside me, legs propped fully over his broad shoulders.
A long, deep exhale emanated from Zen’s mouth, the heat only enhancing the wild sense of pleasure rushing through me.
“Oh, gods!” I sputtered, the unexpectedness of it all taking me aback, my hips arching upward.
His nose nuzzled against my throbbing center, making me realize that I’d already been wet and ready for him, the provocative dance warming me up for something.
“You taste as sweet as you look,” he growled, the words only fueling my arousal. “What a beautiful pussy you have, Little Mouse.”
He spread me wider, lips locking against my swollen clit, suctioning on me as I reached up to grasp his thick head of hair. Tighter his hands squeezed at me, his tongue resuming its laps.
I cried out, bucking upward, head falling back to hit the stage as he guided me deeper and higher into this lust-filled trance of ecstasy. Over and over, with a skill that made me half-crazed, he persisted, bringing me to a place I wasn’t sure I’d ever known.
Surely, I would have remembered something that felt this good.
“Zen…” I moaned. “I’m going to come—”
Two of his fingers entered me then, stopping me mid-sentence, and a gush of heat flooded through me. But he didn’t slow down or stop, prolonging my orgasm as my body quivered and twitched.
My cries escalated, the single climax melding into two, a grunt vibrating against my already humming core. I thought I’d never stop releasing against him, and Zen’s licking tongue and probing fingers seemed to ensure I wouldn’t.
He lapped up every last drop of me until my eyes were hazy and my legs shook, the walls of my core flexing against him as he withdrew himself from me. Our gazes locked, and he stared at me for a moment as if he was stunned by what he had done. I offered him a timid smile, but he didn’t return it, and his face disappeared as he rose.
