“Either or both of you can be involved. Some women like to watch me with their man.” I look to Professor Scott. “Some men like to watch me with their woman. It’s up to you two how you want to work it.”
The heat I'd seen in Red's eyes when I first stepped into the room has been banked, and she now looks completely unsure of everything. I can almost read her mind. She’s rethinking this whole night, wondering if she shouldn’t have played it different. The idea of another woman grinding naked on her man isn’t very appealing anymore.
I scoot back and pull myself up to stand on the stage. “I’ll give you two a moment to think it over. Just don’t take too long,” I say as I grasp the pole and make a slow turn around it. “The clock is ticking.”
I watch out of the corner of my eye as their heads meet and Red begins what appears to be a valiant effort to persuade Professor Scott to abandon this whole thing, but the way his gaze continuously slides up to look at me tells me he plans to stick around for the show.
Moments later, seeing Red throw herself back into the seat and cross her arms over her heaving chest, I have my answer. With a self-satisfied smile, I crouch down in front of them. “Are we decided?”
Professor Scott doesn’t spare Red another glance. “I want the full experience.”
Not we, but I. A small sense of victory grabs me, and I feel like purring. There is nothing sexier than a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. It’s why I’ve grown so fond of him. “You won’t be disappointed.”
I do as I outlined for them moments ago and work the pole, spinning, climbing, caressing until I’m certain that I have their full attention. The professor’s dark eyes are dilated so much that they appear pure black, the pupil completely absorbed by the iris. As I ease off the stage and kneel in front of him, I see the large bulge running alongside his inner left thigh jump.
I’m trying to focus all of my attention on him and not on the irritated redhead watching us. It must be difficult to give up control to another woman, knowing that your boyfriend is getting off on her. But that’s not my problem. Right now, he belongs to me.
Has always belonged to me.
The thought disturbs me, and I bury it before I can give it too much consideration. Blocking out any lingering nerves I have of finally being able to explore my fantasies of this man, I place my hands on his knees and skim them up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath twitch. Purposefully, I allow my fingertips to graze over that steel rod, and his sharp intake of breath fuels me.
When my breasts crush against his legs, I rub against him before crawling up the rest of his body, inhaling the rich combination of expensive cologne and brandy that clings to his tanned skin. Red grudgingly shifts over to make more space and avoid getting pierced by my heels, as I climb onto Professor Scott’s lap to straddle him. Unable to resist, I run my fingers through his slicked back hair, then link them behind his neck. Throwing my head back, I rotate my hips to the beat of the music, my core brushing over his steel rod with each pass.
His low rumble of approval makes me wish we were somewhere else. Someplace where we could be alone and he was free to touch me, be inside of me. I’ve never found lap dances particularly appealing, but tonight, it’s different. Tonight, it’s the worst kind of tease. I’ve barely gotten started and my panties are soaked.
Lifting my head, I lock eyes with Professor Scott and lean forward, pressing my breasts against his face. I feel the wet drag of his tongue through my cleavage, igniting a maelstrom of desire inside me. Even though it’s against the rules, I won’t reprimand him. Instead, I reward him.
Sitting back, I continue to move seductively against him, maintaining eye contact as I run my hands over my breasts, squeezing them together, and then traveling higher to lift my hair off my neck. With deft fingers, I pull the bow to my top and let it fall, bearing my breasts to his hungry eyes. He’s never allowed me to have this much control when we’re together, and I intend to make the most of it.
Licking his lips, I see Professor’s hands twitch at his sides, but like a good little boy, he doesn’t touch me. Cupping my breasts again, I squeeze them together and pinch the nipples just as he would do, teasing them into hard points. The soft moans that fall past my lips don’t have to be faked. I feel every tingle down to my core. If I didn’t think Red would mind, I wouldn’t stop at a lap dance.
The professor’s cock is straining beneath me, and I can see from the dark look in his eyes that he’s more than ready to explode. So am I.
Sitting up on my knees, I bring my breasts to his face, cupping them in offering, and drag the nipples across his lips. Seeing the question in his eyes, I bite my lip and nod my approval. We both want this, and without hesitation, Professor opens his mouth and latches onto my right breast. The feel of his hot, wet tongue on my breast nearly shatters me, and I pull free of his mouth with a loud smack. His glare is one of warning and disappointment. It excites me to no end.
Standing, I turn my back to him. Hooking my fingers in the thin fabric of my G-string, I slowly guide material down to my ankles. In this position, Professor doesn’t have to guess how badly I want him. Even in the poor lighting, he’ll be able to see my slick core weeping for him. And so will Red, who is growing more furious by the moment.
Kicking my wet panties aside, I sit down on his lap backward, and begin grinding my naked ass into his crotch. His cock is like a tree trunk between my cheeks, and holy shit, I can’t help reliving what it felt like wedged inside of me this morning. No one save him has ever inspired this kind of reaction in me—this heightened awareness is threatening to kill me.
The slow rotation of my hips and pressure of my ass against his cock draws all kinds of deep, throaty sounds from the professor. I know, from this angle, he can see every inch of my naked form. The thought of allowing him to touch me in return is a temptation unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I refuse to give in to it. I want the professor to crave me like I crave him. I want him to leave tonight and think of me when he fucks his woman. I want to taint him for all others.
So, as I reach between my legs and tweak the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention, I work hard to bring us both to the edge of the proverbial cliff. And then, I jump.
Behind me, Professor Scott’s breath hisses through his teeth and his chest pumps heavily against my back. Heat pours off him, and when he releases a painful groan and his body shudders, a smile grows on my face.
Standing, I bend and gather the pieces to my outfit. As I begin putting them back on, I turn around. My eyes are immediately drawn to the wet splotch visible through the dark material of the professor’s perfectly pressed slacks.
“You’ll find towels behind the bar if you’d like to clean yourself up before you leave, and Kota is out front if you’d like to schedule any future appointments. Just ask for Pussycat.”
I leave before either of them can form a reply. Bernice is walking out of Room Three holding cleaning products in both hands, and I have to swerve to avoid running into her.
“Oh, hey, J,” she calls out, trying to gain my attention, but I don’t look back. Anything she has to say to me can wait. I continue walking toward the opposite end of the club and shut myself in the Employee’s Only dressing room. My heart pounds inside my chest as the reality of what I have just done starts to sink in.
I just dry fucked my professor.