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I wanted more. I wanted her.At least just to try. To see her come in, to look at me with such a gaze, but not be able to try? It was pure torture.
I didn’t care what I had to do, but Ineededto try and talk to her.
“Tell them how it feels, lovely.”
“So good,” I forced out while keeping her gaze. “Please fuck me harder, ma’am. Make me come again.”
“This is what, the seventh time already?” she asked from behind me. “You get fucked here almost every night and your greedy pussy still wants more?”
Not every night, but I didn’t correct her.
“Yes,” I groaned. At this point, it wasn’t a want, it was a need. I needed to come just as badly as I needed to breathe. My entire body was shaking, and when her hands looped around me to rub circles on my clit, I couldn’t hold back the whimpers.
I was so overstimulated by that point that it was bordering on painful. I wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and beg for her to stop. But I kept it inside because what I wanted more than anything was for her to continue.
She pumped the dildo inside me lazily while keeping up the firm pressure on my clit. She knew I was going to come without much work and she wasn’t rushing it. But soon, her presence fell by the wayside, leaving just the bursts of pleasure she was sending through me and those piercing blue eyes.
I almost felt bad about how enraptured the stranger from across the room had made me.
Since our gazes met, I couldn’t pull my eyes from hers.
She gave no indication that she was loving, or hating, what was happening on stage. It’s as if she was watching paint dry rather than me getting fucked.
The only slightest hint that I got was when I came and moans spilled loudly from my mouth, her own mouth opened just slightly. My pussy spasmed violently on the fake cock, and when her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, I all but lost it right then and there.
I should have been paying attention to my partner. Hell, I should have at least looked out at the crowd more.
But no. I couldn’t pull my eyes from the corner. Images of her walking right up to the stage and dipping her hands between my legs before bringing them up to her mouth to taste flashed through my mind.
Was she imagining being in Gale’s place? Or she just liked watching as I turned into a moaning writhing mess, and that’s why she wouldn’t come up?
I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like for her hands to roam my body. For her hot tongue to trail my skin. Thousands of thoughts flew through my mind so quickly that I couldn’t even prepare myself for when the vibrator was forced back to my clit.
My back bowed, and my eyes were forced shut. Gale held me still as I begged for her to stop.
I knew the safe word, but I wouldn’t use it. I liked this part too. There was something cathartic about being forced to come over and over again. Being forced to sit still while your body fell apart from the inside out.
It was about the control. The control I willingly gave up to my partner, who in turn assured me that I would be safe and protected while I was allowed to fully lose myself in the feeling.
It was another few painful minutes before my eyes opened again, though this time she was still there in the corner, staring at me.
It was in that moment that I vowed to get her into my bed. If I had to stop performing just to catch her, I would. If it meant crawling to her on my hands and knees, I would.
The curiosity of her was far too enticing to get out of my mind. And in a word, I became obsessed.
The only thing that pulled me from her was when she turned her head toward the entrance.
My breath caught in my throat, and lead filled my stomach.
Familiar long auburn hair, brown eyes, and a disapproving scowl met me. Bailey had decided to make her entrance.
* * *
“Since when did you start performing again?” Bailey said, the scowl on her face seemingly permanent.
Her comment made me bristle. My hands gripped the vanity behind me. I didn’t want to be mean to her or hurt her feelings. I knew I would regret that far more than just hanging on for a bit longer.
Right after the show, she cornered me in the dressing room. Something that was a big no and went against many of their performers’ boundaries.Even my own.
