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Scarlett

The early morning chill nips at my exposed skin as I hurry through the dark parking lot, my coat barely covering the lace and satin costume I still have on. The night’s adrenaline has finally worn off, leaving me bone-tired and eager for the sanctuary of my bed. My car is only a few more steps away.

I dig into my purse for my keys, the clinking of metal faint but reassuring against my palm. Then, a shadow moves. A figure steps out from the darkness, blocking my path. My heart lurches into my throat.

"Shh," he hisses, and before I can react, a hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my startled gasp. Panic floods me, sharp and icy. I didn’t even see him coming. His other arm wraps around me, steel bands that pin me against his chest, firm.

"Stop struggling. I'm not going to hurt you." His voice is low and gruff, a command wrapped in velvet.

I freeze, every muscle in my body taut with fear. Slowly, he uncovers my mouth, his movements deliberate, as if he’s afraid of spooking me.

The instant I’m free, I spin around, glaring up at him. Words of anger and fear are ready to tumble out, but they die on my tongue.

It’s him.

The man who has refused to leave my thoughts. The one with piercing blue eyes who sat cloaked in shadows while I danced two nights ago. Standing this close, his features are even more striking, his presence dominating the space between us. He’s shrouded in mystery, an air of danger clinging to him like a second skin.

"Sorry for scaring you," he murmurs, his intense gaze never wavering.

I can see tattoos peeking out from underneath his black t-shirt and I can’t help but wonder what else I’ll find under his clothes.

"What the hell are you doing?" My voice is sharper than I intended, my words rushing out to cover the fact that my pulse is still racing—and not entirely from fear.

"I was about to leave when I saw you and decided to say hello." His tone is casual, but his eyes betray something deeper.

"Well, hello." I turn to leave, hoping to shake off the unnerving effect he has on me.

Before I can take another step, his hand closes gently around my wrist. The contact sends an electric jolt up my arm, freezing me in place.

"Wait," he says, his voice softer now, almost coaxing.

I glance back at him, my guard still up. "What do you want?"

"Just curious about you," he replies, his tone flippant but his eyes probing. The air between us is thick with unspoken tension, an unnameable charge that makes it hard to breathe.

"Curious about why I’m a stripper?" I ask, tilting my head. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He smirks, a hint of mischief curling his lips. "Exactly. You don’t fit the mold."

I laugh, short and humorless. "Is there supposed to be a type?"

"Isn’t there?" His voice is husky, his gaze unwavering.

"Maybe," I admit, shrugging. "But we all have our reasons."

"Yours?" He leans against the hood of a sleek black car, his posture deceptively casual.

"Financial," I say simply, biting my lip. "And temporary."

He arches an eyebrow, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Sounds like a story there."

"Maybe." I shift my weight, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Everyone has a story, don’t they?"

"What’s yours?"

"Personal." The word comes out sharper than intended, but I don’t want to go into details.

He doesn’t push, but his gaze stays locked on mine. "Fair enough. Do I take it I’ll be seeing you here for a while then?"

A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself.

At least he still wants to see me.

"I’ve only been at it for a little over a month. The plan is to get out once I…” I bite my lips as I almost said once I find a sugar daddy.

“Once you what?”

“Once I hit my mark.”

"Quite the target," he muses, his sharp features softening under the glow of the streetlight. "And you don’t want to say how much or why you need it?"

"No." I tighten my grip on my coat, suddenly acutely aware of how little it covers. "It’s personal."

He steps closer, the faint scent of his cologne—a mix of spice and something darker—filling the space between us. "Must be important if it brought you to this place," he says, his voice low and edged with something I can’t place. "Maybe I can help."

I blink at him, startled. "Help? Why would you want to do that?"

"Let’s just say," he begins, tilting his head, "that I’m invested in the welfare of talented individuals."

Talented. A wry laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Is that what I am now? A talented stripper? And maybe a talented escort once I’m able to get a hold of Marina.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I say, looking away. "I can handle it."

His eyes linger on me, intense and searching, but he doesn’t argue. The silence between us is thick, charged with something neither of us acknowledges.

The chill in the air bites at my exposed skin, but his proximity is like a furnace, drawing me in despite myself. He steps even closer, his presence overwhelming.

"You must be cold," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before I can respond, he pulls me against him, his hands firm yet gentle on my waist. The hard press of his body against mine sends a jolt of awareness through me, igniting something I’ve never felt before.

"Yeah," I breathe, my voice trembling. It’s not the cold that has me shaking now.

His lips hover near my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "I want you," he says, the words rough and raw.

The stark admission sends a shiver down my spine, and I can barely muster a response. "Then take me," I whisper, my voice barely audible but heavy with meaning.

His grip tightens, and for a moment, the world around us fades away. There’s only him, his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and the dangerous allure of whatever this is between us.

Without a word, he takes my hand, his touch both commanding and tender. He leads me through the shadows to his car, a sleek predator crouched in the dim light. The door clicks open, and before I can second-guess myself, he sweeps me inside.

"Hurry," I urge, my voice husky with a need I barely recognize.

He doesn’t hesitate. The door shuts with a soft thud, sealing us in. His body covers mine, the leather seat cool against my back as his heat consumes me. Our lips meet in a crash of hunger and desperation, a kiss that obliterates all thought.

His hands are everywhere, mapping the curves I’ve spent months putting on display but never letting anyone touch. His touch feels like he’s branding me, claiming me. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, each touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every second.

"Damn," he growls against my skin. "You feel like everything I should be staying away from."

I gasp as his hands slide beneath the lace and satin of my costume, his touch possessive and reverent all at once. Heat coils low in my belly, an ache that demands more, demands everything.

"Take me," I whisper again, the words a plea and a challenge. And this time, he doesn’t hold back.

"Please don’t stop," I say as my body buzzes with red-hot desire. It's an invocation, one that he answers by pressing me back against the plush leather seat. His body covers mine, a heavy, welcome weight. Our lips crash together, hungry and insistent. There's no gentleness, only raw need that mirrors my own.

His hands are everywhere, mapping the curves that the spotlight on stage left too much to imagination. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if there's a way to be close enough to sate this ache. He breaks away from my lips, trailing kisses down my throat, each one a brand that claims me as his.

"Fuck," he growls against my skin again; “I can’t stop myself."

“I don’t want you to stop,” I moan as his hands slip beneath the scant fabric of my costume, touching bare skin with a possessiveness that sends shivers through me. Heat coils low in my belly, tightening with every brush of his fingers, every press of his lips. I arch into him, craving more—more of his touch, more of this feeling that obliterates all thought except for him- us, this moment.

"Take me," I say in a voice that sounds nothing like mine, and it's both a plea and a permission. He responds with a fervor that borders on desperation as if he's drowning and I'm the only air. Our movements are frenzied, a dance of passion that has us spiraling toward a precipice neither of us can resist.

"I want to feel you," I whispered, my voice laced with desire. I wanted him, needed him, in ways I couldn't fully explain. His rough and mysterious demeanor only added to his allure, and I found myself drawn to his dark, dangerous side.

Without saying a word, he pulls out a condom from somewhere, reaches out, and gently grasps my waist, pulling me on top of his lap. His touch sends sparks of pleasure through my body, and I arch towards him, seeking more. His hands are strong and calloused, a stark contrast to my soft skin, and I revel in the sensation. With a gentle yet firm grip, he lifts me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, my body molding perfectly to his.

His lips crash into mine again, hungry and demanding. I open my mouth willingly, inviting his tongue to dance with mine. The kiss is fierce and passionate, filled with pent-up longing. I taste the hint of whiskey on his breath, mixed with the unique flavor that is purely him. His kiss is like a drug, clouding my senses, and making me yearn for more.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, he whispered against my lips, "Wrap your legs tighter, baby. I want to feel every inch of you." He says scooting his bum towards the edge of the chair. I eagerly comply, my inner thighs squeezing his hips as I lock my ankles behind his back. He is so hard, his warm and thick erection rubbing against me, making me mad with need.

A tiny voice at the back of my head tries to bring me back to sanity.

I shouldn’t be losing my virginity at the back of a car. But duh …Who cares.

With a swift motion, he tears off the bottom of my flimsy costume, and my warm juice makes contact with his hardened member. His eyes darken as he took in the sight of my peaky breasts, his breath coming in sharp rasps. He gently cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples, eliciting a moan from deep within my throat.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want to taste every inch of you." He lowers his head, his warm breath ghosting over my nipple before capturing it with his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. I arch into him, my hands threading through his dark hair, holding him to me as he lavished attention on my breasts.

His fingers sear hot imprints down my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pauses at the waistband of my thong, his hot breath causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. With one gentle move, he slips a finger into my glistening pussy. I was so wet, my juices flowing freely, coating my inner thighs.

"You're so fucking wet, baby," he growled, his voice thick with want. "I just want to slide inside you." He inhaled deeply, savoring my scent before his finger slips out, flicking my clit in a swift, deliberate motion. I gasped, my body jerking with pleasure as he continued to tease me, his fingers leaving my folds, driving me closer to the edge.

"Please," I beg, my voice breathy and raw. "I need you inside me now." I want him to fill me, to possess me, to make me forget everything but the pleasure he could give.

He straightens, his hands gripping my thighs as he positions himself at my entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself deep within me, filling me. I cry out but not entirely from pain. My body trembles as I adjusted to his size, the stretch and burn of his cock overwhelming my senses.

“Don’t fucking tell me that you just lost your virginity in the back seat of a fucking car.” He growled.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, wiggling for him to continue bombarding me with pleasure. He hesitates for a while, and a tiny part of me begins to worry, but then he starts moving.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained. "So tight and hot." He begins to move, his hips snapping forward, driving in and out of me with a primal rhythm. My legs tighten around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper.

His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he pounds into me, his cock hitting my sweet spot with each delicious stroke. I cry out, my head thrown back, my hair cascading down my back as waves of pleasure wash over me. I am so close, teetering on the edge of release, but he seemed determined to draw out every pleasure in me.

He licks my nipple with his warm tongue. The moist warmth on my taut skin has me close to tears of joy.

"Come for me, krasivyy," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let me feel your pussy milk my cock." His words are like a trigger, pushing me over the edge. My body convulses around him, my pussy clenching and releasing his cock as I rode out my orgasm, my juices flowing freely, coating him with my essence.

His release is swift and intense. With a harsh groan, he empties himself deep within me, his hot cum filling me as his hips jerk uncontrollably. His eyes are clenched shut, his face a mask of pure ecstasy as he surrendered to the pleasure I'd given him.

But wait, why can I feel his liquid flowing inside me? I wonder as I float back to reality.

Damn, the fucking condom broke. So much for protection. I’d have to get a morning-after pill.