Page 20 of Dancing with the Devil

With a firm grip on his hand, I dragged it down my stomach, slipping it over the thin lace of my panties. His hand cupped mebetween my thighs, and a soft sigh fell from his lips as I rolled my hips into his hand.

His lips grazed my ear as his free hand squeezed my breast in response, and I rolled my hips in a circular motion on his lap.

A deep, strained groan left his throat. The low rasp of his taunting voice fueled my magnetic pull to him as he pressed his lips to my ear. “You’resogood at that.”

My heart thumped at the sound of his voice in my ear, so I whipped around, straddling his lap.

His eyes had shifted.

Now, he stared back at me with pure lust. Like a man who was on the verge of losing control. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pushing my chest into his and flicked his earlobe with my tongue.

My lips hovered over his ear as I rolled my hips against him, making him grip my hips with a strained groan. I trailed my tongue over the shell of his ear, and his fingers dug into my skin as he lifted his hips underneath me.

I could feel how hard he was through the material of his slacks, so I took it as my final cue.

I pulled back to unbuckle his belt, but he grabbed my wrists, stopping me. My heart leaped in fear at his sudden aggression, and I let go.

Swallowing the tension, I leaned in towards his ear. I grabbed his hands, placing them on my ass as I flicked his earlobe with my tongue.

“Sex only works when you take your pants off,” I whispered, rolling my hips against him, and his grip tightened. “Yeah?” I teased.

With my hands caressing his biceps and shoulders, I slowly rocked my hips back and forth, and I could him feel him getting into the rhythm as well.

I kissed his ear, pressing my chest to his, and his body tensed under mine.

I held the sides of his neck with my hands, flicking his lips with my tongue. “Scared?” I whispered, not tearing my eyes off his lips.

His tone was strained, like itpainedhim to utter his next few words. “I’m not having sex with you.” His words yanked me back into a cold reality.

I let go of his face, creating some distance between us. “Why not?” I asked, but my question came off worse than it should have. “No,” I quickly shook my head. “I meant that, usually when guys whip out their bank cards it’s because they wantmorethan just a dance,” I explained. “Is this part of your twisted fantasy?”

His eyes dropped to my lips for a second, and my pulse throbbed in my neck.

“How many times have you done this?” he asked, and suddenly, I didn’t want to be on his lap anymore.

I was perplexed. “You’re asking menow,how many times I’ve had a private session with other men?”

“Answer my question.” His voice was rough, and something told me that unless my answer was zero, he would not be pleased.

“It’s really none of your business,” I shot back, keeping my voice low and steady.

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Answer me, Nirah.”

I swallowed a lump down my throat, hesitant to speak. The words left my mouth in a faint whisper. “Three times.”

As expected, he did not like that answer.

A beat passed, and he reached over, grabbing my coat, and handed it to me.

Feeling utterly lost by this interaction, I got off his lap and slipped it on. He ran his fingers up and down his jaw in thought,not tearing his eyes off of me, and I noticed something dark pooling behind his eyes.

Suddenly, the atmosphere had changed, and a pit grew in my stomach at the thought of him being repulsed by me.

“Well, fuck you too,” I said, grabbing the money and his card. “And you can keep your goddamn money,” I dropped it on his lap before leaving room and shutting the door behind me.Asshole.

Nausea stirred in my core and suddenly, I didn’t feel too good.

I was used to men making me feel like shit. And, it most definitely got worse when they found out what I did for a living. To them, I was nothing but a pretty face who didn’t deserve respect.