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Her eyes narrow into slits as her red mouth turns up, but she sweeps her eyes low. Rose clambers off the stage, wobbling in the heels and grabbing at me to steady herself.
It’s obvious she’s got no idea of how a stripper acts. I do, but I’m not going to help her. I’m not going to tell her a fucking thing. Not unless she asks. A flicker of doubt darkens her face a moment, but she lifts her chin and goes for hooker with a heart of gold as she thrusts out her tits and her hip.
She’s utterly sublime.
“Make it good, and I’ll take you to heaven,” I say.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
I think of answering her but decide against it. I don’t. I don’t say shit like that, but with Rose, it’s fun. “Take off what you want, except the tie.”
Her façade slips. “I…I haven’t done this before.”
“One less person I need to kill, then.”
Our eyes connect, and the shiver that runs through her tells me she knows I’m not joking. I’m aware she hasn’t, but if she had…
“Bump and grind and tease the living shit out of me. I won’t touch you, Rose. Club rules.”
“Have you—”
“You really want that answer?” I ask softly.
“Maybe.”
“Do your thing, Rose. There’s no wrong here.”
She nods and takes my drink, downing it in one go. She coughs and sputters, and the warmth of amused irritation moves through me. Stubborn to the last, Rose refuses to leave my drinks alone. If she liked it, I wouldn’t care, but she doesn’t. She’s soft, and her drink type is too. Still, she keeps insisting on stealing. If I didn’t already love her, it might push me over the edge.
“Ready?” Her voice is a coo, and she runs her fingers lightly over my chest and down to my cock, where she lets them linger a moment.
I clench my teeth.
Then, she starts. Awkward at first, she slips a sleeve off one shoulder and wiggles her ass in my face. She turns and rubs her breasts there next. Finally, she starts to shimmy in my lap.
Finally, she gives up on shit she’s seen on TV or whatever and turns, slipping over me, her thighs either side of mine, her cunt above my cock when she really begins to move. The heat of her so close, yet so far out of reach, it’s borderline torture, and I dig my fingers into the back of the sofa.
Rose slides her arms about my neck and starts to rub her body on mine, an undulating move, dirty, sexy, somehow sweet.
She smells fresh and clean as she gyrates on me, that hot little cunt rubbing against my clothed cock, each stroke a livewire, and I’m not even out of my fucking trousers.
Her soft breasts brush against me, the shirt open now, hanging off both shoulders. She’s the kind of vision that’s somehow high art and smut in one. Rose leans in, mouth on my throat, her tongue drawing a line of wet heat down my pulse point.
When she starts for the buttons of my vest and shirt, I stop her.
“Changed my mind about the happy ending. What I want, Rose, is for you to give me the best damn head of your life. I want you to worship my cock, eat it down, suck it and lick it like you live for it. I want you to both make it last and bring me right to where I’m going to blow, then stop.”
Shock hits her. “But—”
“What? Can’t do it? You better; there’s punishment if you make me come.”
She’s going to make me fucking come, and then I’m going to punish her.
I smile.
Rose cocks a brow, a total brat move that’s like her hand on my shaft. She rubs and grinds her cunt against me, causing me to hiss in a breath. “That’s a lot of power.”
“Or a lot of responsibility, Rose.”
