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But as I strutted towards him, my steps faltered as I remembered that I was wearing a plain cotton bra and cotton panties with a big hole, under my leotard. And even I couldn’t make those look sexy!
I forced a smile.
“Make yourself comfortable, Marcus. I’ll just be a minute,” I announced before I fled to my bedroom.
Sadly, I had nothing remotely sexy in my rucksack. I threw on a black sports bra and my skimpiest black panties and looked for the pink silk robe that came with the room. This would have to do. Then I looked in the mirror, threw back my shoulders, and raised my chin defiantly.
I wasn’t going to chicken out of this because I had to school Marcus Donovan if it was the last thing I did. I was going to knock that holier-than-thou smirk right off his face.
I almost tripped over my heels when I walked out of my bedroom and saw him sprawled over the big wingback chair in the sitting room. He looked far too comfortable for a man who was about to be schooled, which made me wonder if I had bitten off more than I could chew.
At work, I could switch my brain off while I gave a lap dance because I knew I wasn’t really alone with the customer. There was always a bouncer at hand even in the VIP room. And it meant nothing. The strict club rules meant that the customer was never allowed to touch me, and I had the freedom to decide how much to touch him. Also, our club served alcohol, which meant strictly no nudity for the dancers. We stripped down to a teeny tiny bikini, and that was it.
But right now, in this hotel room, there were no club rules. There were no rules at all.
And when I looked at Marcus who was sprawled in that chair as if he was lord and master of all that he surveyed, my fingers itched to touch him. To tousle that thick hair, to stroke the lines of those broad shoulders, to dig my nails into the hard wall of his chest.
He raised his head to look at me when I entered the room and his eyes heated as he stared me up and down. I hit the playlist on my phone, and the beats of Candy Shop filled the air. Marcus beckoned me closer with one finger, and I swear, the lazy gesture - which should have made me mad - made my heart leap.
I held his eyes as I sashayed toward him and circled his chair once. Facing him once more, I kicked my leg high into the air and brought my ankle to rest on the back of his chair. My robe fell aside and Marcus stared hungrily at the smooth leg resting so close to his face. But he kept his hands to himself.
“Club rules,” he stated, and I could have hissed in frustration.
Why the fuck was he being such a saint?
But if he didn’t want to touch me, it was his loss, I decided, as I leaned in close, almost rubbing my cleavage in his face.
“Sure,” I murmured in his ear, enjoying the way he clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
I turned around, and with my back to him, swayed gently in place as I unbelted my robe. I turned around slowly to give him the full view. His eyes were everywhere, devouring me with just a look. The hunger in his eyes made my nipples bead and peak even through the sports bra, and I felt a gush of wetness in my panties.
I slipped the robe off slowly, his eyes following every move. Marcus clenched the arms of his chair hard and I knew it was a struggle for him to keep his hands off me.
I smiled.
And then I straddled him, placing my knees on either side of his legs, making sure I wasn’t touching him anywhere. I held his eyes as I leaned forward to hold onto the back of his chair for support, as I came up on my heels and ground my pelvis over his crotch, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat he was generating. I tossed my hair in his face and Marcus hissed at the slight contact.
The song wound down and I decided I had tortured him enough for one day. And myself.
I reached one foot down towards the ground, getting ready to lift myself off him when I slipped and landed firmly in his lap. Marcus froze in place as my crotch pressed against his hard dick. He was hard enough to drill through concrete, and I marveled at how we kept ending up in the same position every fucking time.
I gripped his shoulders to push myself up and Marcus drew in a sharp breath. And he still did nothing to touch me.
He just leaned forward and nuzzled the side of my neck gently, drawing goosebumps all over my skin.
“You smell… like…”
“Vanilla,” I whispered, referring to the scented body wash in the bathroom.
He inhaled deeply and shook his head.
“Sin,” he murmured, as he nuzzled his way up my neck and along my jaw.
I moaned softly and my heart beat out a desperate tattoo for I craved his touch. I needed his hands on me right now. But the bastard still wouldn’t touch me.
I rubbed my crotch gently against his hardness, gasping at the delicious friction and Marcus groaned.
“Aren’t you going to touch me?” I whispered against his lips. “You know you want to.”
