AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My name falling from her lips has a strange surge moving through me, and I swear I would give anything to hear her moan it with my knot locked deep inside her cunt.
Where the fuck did that thought come from?
Never in my life have I ever wanted to knot a female. The women I have fucked in the past have always been simply a distraction, a one-and-done type of deal. But this woman? I want to knot and breed and keep. Pushing the thought aside, I run my gaze along her exposed skin.
“Dance for me, Talulla.” It seems to be the only other thing I can say right now.
A small smile tilts her lips as she closes her eyes, allowing the music to sweep her away. Her body undulates as her hands once more caress up her sides. Her fingers nimbly undo the buttons of the azure shirt she is wearing with her denim mini-skirt.
My fingers twitch to replace hers, but I know places like these have a strict no-touching rule, so I hold myself back. And it is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my entire life.
The material falls from her shoulders to pool at her feet. The lace bra she is wearing does nothing to hide her erect nipples from my gaze. Jealousy thrums through my veins.
“Were you intending to dance for someone else?” I ask lowly.
Her gaze clashes with mine before she shakes her head. “I don’t give private dances.”
“And yet you’re dancing for me?”
“It’s a means to an end.” At my raised eyebrow, she explains. “I don’t want to dance anymore. Doing this dance for you ensures that I will be the manager tomorrow.”
Respect courses through my veins at her words. She is trying to better herself and her situation by any means necessary. I have always had this misguided opinion that women who strip - or do burlesque - love their jobs. Not that they want to do something more with their lives. Clearly, I have been wrong.
“So this will be your last dance?”
“Yes.”
“Come here.” I crook my finger at her, and she steps between my spread thighs. “I want to touch you.”
I look up at her, waiting for her reaction.
“It’s against the rules.” She licks her lips nervously, and I want to bite at the plump fullness of the bottom one.
“You don’t work here. You aren’t a dancer anymore but haven’t been appointed the manager yet. You don’t have to follow the rules.”
I see the moment my words sink in.
“No sex,” Talulla says. “I’m not a whore.”
A flash of anger hits me at the thought that anyone would call her that. I’ll kill anyone who dares to treat her like anything less than a fucking queen.
“No sex,” I repeat, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer.
Her skin is soft and warm beneath my fingertips, and I want to run my hands over every inch. My hands skim across the skin of her hips, back, and stomach as she stands perfectly still, the song long forgotten.
A sigh leaves her lips, and I can’t resist running my nose across her skin, breathing her in deeply. Her scent of vanilla and cinnamon assaults my senses and burrows deep into me.
“You smell so fucking good,” I murmur against her skin.
My brain isn’t working. I keep repeating myself or saying the worst things. How do I intend to impress this woman if I keep babbling like a hormonal teenager?
“Silas,” she mewls as my hands harshly kneed at the full globes of her ass.
I pull her forward harshly, and she lands on my lap, straddling me. The denim mini skirt she is wearing rides up, doing nothing to hide her tiny white thong from my sight. My fingers itch to run along the fabric, but I hold myself back, my hands firmly on her hips.
“Is my dance over?” I tease.
Talulla smirks, defiance burning in her gray gaze. Lifting herself from my lap, she leans over my torso, running her hands through my hair, her breasts a breath from my lips. Her hips sway in the air, and I wish she would pull that move on my lap. Talulla releases my hair to cup her breasts as she settles her ass in my lap, never stopping her movements for a single moment.
