Blue lights begin to spin around the room, fog crawls across the stage, and I hear Kota’s growl over the sound system as he announces me. There are no cheers, no clapping hands, just the music as it filters down from the ceiling and expands throughout the building. Then the spotlight hits me, and I begin to move.
“Hot for Teacher” is my song of choice, kind of a personal joke. I know Ransom isn’t here to hear it, but if he was, I imagine he’d be laughing right along with me. As I grind my hips and do my turns around the pole, I find myself hoping that he is here. I lack the guts to look. Even though I am used to the job, I will never get used to the exposure of it. Power or not, the idea of performing in front of a crowd is unnerving. The only way to survive the anxiety that threatens to creep up on me is to ignore everything and just dance.
The music consumes me, and I remind myself that this is a special performance. In order to be the head dog, I have to perform like one. Channeling my inner vixen, the one that gyrated in her lover-slash-professor’s lap while his girlfriend watched, I drag my palms over my hips and up my sides, following the swell of my breasts as they continue to climb higher. Lifting my long hair, I release my top and let it flutter to the stage.
Every woman has a favorite part of their body. Mine are my breasts. They’re round and full with smooth, pale skin and pert pink nipples. Any man I’ve ever been with has had nothing but nice things to say about them, so I am confident in showing them off now.
It’s as I stand, whipping my hair back from my face, that I feel the intensity of His stare. I can’t see past the gloom I’ve set for myself, but I know he’s here. My insides turn molten instantly as I drop to my knees and thrust my hips. I’m on fire, thinking of our earlier kiss, of the way his hands feel on my skin, the scorching heat of his body against mine.
I can’t think straight, and when the music ends, I miss my cue. The lights rise before I do, and I feel the horror of seeing dozens of eyes plastered to my naked body, but then my gaze lands on one set in particular and a curious sense of calm comes over me.
Ransom’s smirk is contagious, and as he leaves his table and makes his way toward me, anticipation pours over me like hot candle wax—breathtaking, scalding, thrilling.
Standing, I collect my top and exit stage left.
I’m not in the dressing room for more than thirty seconds when the door opens and Bernice pokes her head inside. “Joe, that man from the other night is here to see you. He says you know each other?” She looks uncertain, but I wave my hand.
“Let him in.” Running a brush through my hair, I watch in the mirror as Ransom walks up behind me. Even in the low light, his dark eyes and hair are striking against his sun-kissed skin, and as he moves closer, his arrogant gaze travels down my body. Settling his strong hands firmly on my hips, he dips his head to trace his nose along the side of my neck.
“Damn, you smell delicious.”
The stubble on his cheek scrapes over my skin, causing every nerve ending in my body to tingle. It’s like pins and needles, only it feels good. “Ra—uh, Mr. Scott,” I quickly correct myself, reminded of his preference for formalities. “I thought you were done with this?”
I watch his expression for something, anything, but it remains fully focused as he continues to explore my nakedness with hands and mouth. Everywhere he makes contact feels like a burn. “Done with what?”
“With us,” I say, an embarrassing moan leaving me as his hand boldly sneaks beneath my thong and traces through my wetness.
“I could never be done with this,” he groans, his voice pitching lower before sinking his teeth into my shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so damn wet. I was going to order us dinner before I took you to bed, but your sweet pussy just ruined all of that.”
His fingers push through my slick folds and plunge inside, tearing a moan from me. Distantly, I hear the clink of his belt buckle, followed by the lowering of his zipper. I gasp at the sudden emptiness as he pulls his fingers out of me, and then I hear as much as feel my thong torn from my waist. I’ll feel that later, but for now, the only pain I want to pay attention to his hard cock pounding into me.
“Bend that sweet ass over,” he commands as he wraps his hand around my nape and shoves me down, forcing me to throw out my hands and brace myself against the vanity. Grabbing his cock, I watch him in the mirror as he rubs it between my legs.
“You’re a tease,” he accuses as he slaps his cockhead against my aching clit. “You made me come in my pants.”
Breathless, I say, “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
His hand lands hard on my ass, and I scream from the sting of it. My arousal turns painful. “My date didn’t like it.”
“Oh?” I pant, reeling from the word date. Not girlfriend. Date. The bastard. But I don’t feel sorry for what I did. Instead, I feel anger take root in my gut, and I’m unable to keep the bite from my words. “Didn’t she enjoy watching you clean away the mess I made?”
“No,” he says wickedly, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “She especially didn’t enjoy having to lap it up with her tongue.”
I want to laugh even as jealousy tears through me. He let another woman touch him, taste him. Not that it was a big surprise, but suspecting and knowing are two different things.
“Too bad she couldn’t make you come in your pants. Maybe she’d be the one riding your dick tonight instead.”
“Who says she didn’t?”
My eyes narrow, and I am ready to tell him to fuck off, when he shoves his cock into my ass. His hand clamps over my mouth before my scream has a chance to carry. Moisture burns my eyes as he pounds into me. I’ve never grown used to his size and being untried there, verges on excruciating.
Stars float behind my closed eyelids as I struggle to even out my breathing. Ransom continues to take me hard, making it difficult, if not impossible, to do. I’d tell him no, but he loves it, and I love pleasing him. Even if it means I won’t be able to sit down right later.
I’m a sick person, I know this. Ransom doesn’t deserve me, and I deserve so much better than him. Trouble is, I can’t seem to make myself walk away. One look, one touch, that’s all it takes, and I’m back under his spell.
“I love fucking your tight little hole,” he growls into my ear, and presses in deeper, holding his hips against mine long enough for me to feel the full length of him. “You think it was funny messing up my pants? I wonder if you’ll be laughing when I fill your pretty little ass with my cum.”
I’m sure I won’t be laughing at all. His filthy words stir something inside of me, and despite the weakness in my knees, I feel an orgasm lurking in the shadows. I won’t give the thought voice, but I want him to fill me. I love feeling his juices leak down my thighs after he uses me, hard. It’s his mark, his own personal brand, and I wear it proudly.
If he knew the way I really felt, turned on by his aggressive, deviant behavior, he’d drop me faster than I can blink. He doesn’t have to tell me this for me to know it’s true. Ransom is the kind of man who gets off on instilling a little bit of fear. I can see it in his eyes, which is why I will never let on how much I love it.
A few squeaks of surprise, a couple of moans, and some heavy panting are all it takes to push him over the edge. I don’t get mine, but he pumps his hot semen into my ass with a roar so loud I’m afraid someone will barge in to investigate.
Still lodged deep inside me, Ransom’s softer side makes an appearance as he pulls me up and wraps his arm around me, holding my back to his chest, ensuring I don’t fall over. It’s a big possibility, considering how wobbly my legs feel right now. He lingers long enough that his cock shrinks back, slipping from my body of its own accord. Semen wets my cheeks and inner thighs, slowly leaking back out as I stand up straight. Turning me in his arms, Ransom smoothes my hair back from my face and flashes me a lazy but devastating smile.