She pulled herself back up, letting her feet drop to the floor, and then rubbed her clit against the pole. That delicate flush rose in her face once more. She turned to look at him, and for a moment they were alone together in the room, locked in a tunnel only they could detect. He knew she wanted him, knew she imagined his cock as she rubbed up and down the pole.
The flush in her face grew brighter, then her eyes closed, cutting him out. It was all about her now—she’d left him behind. The music continued to play, but she was oblivious, completely focused on the pole between her legs. This was different than any other performance he’d seen in a strip club. For one thing, she wasn’t making any moves to remove the rest of her clothing. She ground herself against the pole, throwing her head back and moaning in time to the music. Her face tightened, and she panted noticeably. She strained, pushing, driving herself against the pole. She wasn’t performing for anyone, that was clear enough. That the men around her were enjoying the show were immaterial.
This was all about her.
Her face grew tighter, the red flush growing bright. Her face twisted and then she screamed, her cry breaking the spell that had fallen over them.
He felt an answering surge within himself, and he bit his lip, closing his eyes tightly.
For one horrible moment he thought he might come in his pants; just the thought was unbearable.
He regained control of himself, shifting again and wishing desperately that his leathers weren’t so tight. The pressure was almost unbearable.
He opened his eyes to discover her collapsed on the floor, panting, breasts heaving.
She lay there for what seemed an eternity, gasping for breath and flushed with ecstasy.
At first it seemed spontaneous, but slowly he realized that even her heaving breaths were coming in time with the music. She drifted across the stage, somehow using the pulsing motions of her body to move herself toward him in time with the music. Then she rolled to her stomach and her eyes met his. Once again, that tunnel opened up between them. They could have been alone for all the notice they gave the pulsing crowd.
He leaned forward, unable to control himself, and she gave him a feline smile.
She glided across the floor toward him, each motion taking an eternity. He sat mesmerized, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t turn away, that this wasn’t just one more part of her routine. He wasn’t sure he could bear that. He knew it wasn’t when she reached the edge of the stage and stopped to look directly at him. Her head bobbed like that of a snake. She had certainly charmed him. He felt a trickle of sweat bead up on his forehead, and raised one hand to wipe it away. At that moment he would have given her anything, anything at all, just for ten minutes of her time.
She leaned forward, giving him a close-up view of her magnificent breasts, but he hardly noticed. All he could think about was her face, her eyes—deep pools of sparkling green that he wanted to crawl into. Closer and closer she came, teetering on the edge of the stage, her face all but touching his. Her tongue flicked out, as if scenting him, and then she licked him slowly across one cheek.
The man sitting next to him moaned again.
Then she drew back, her face very serious.
“You’re mine for tonight,” she said, her low voice cutting through the music for his ears only. He nodded, realizing he was the luckiest man in the room.
She had chosen him as her toy, and he was grateful for the honor.
* * * * *
Cybele studied his face as she backed away, turning the slightly salty taste of him over in her mouth.
She hadn’t expected him to be so attractive.
Of course, he was utterly taken with her. All men were. It wasn’t that she was vain; she simply knew the power of her body. For some reason, the Goddess had opted to endow her with a shape and form that appealed to the male eye. It was a magnificent advantage, and she’d never been afraid to use it.
This one was going to be different than her usual marks, though. His dossier worried her. He wasn’t an easy target—he’d spent most of his life fighting, which was only natural when you considered he was one of the most successful smugglers in the quadrant. Some said he was little more than a pirate, not that she cared.
All that mattered was the money she’d get for killing him.
Still, the sight of him led her to re-evaluate her initial plan of attack. Maybe it was the lingering pleasure of her orgasm against the pole, but she found herself wanting to touch him before she killed him. He was big, strong, exuding that kind of dangerous aura she always found irresistible in a partner. Of course, she lost interest in them as soon as she learned she could best them, but that was the way of things.
He would bore her in the end, but she would enjoy his company first.
The music ended, and she turned to bow toward the appreciative audience. It took effort not to sneer at the idiots, desperate men who were easily fooled. Still, she leaned over to scoop up the showers of credits on the stage around her. The money was nothing to her, a tenth of what her fee for this job would be, but it would look suspicious if she didn’t collect it. Flashing a sultry smile, she walked back down the stage toward her prey, deliberately dropping down off the stage onto a table, then stepping to the floor by placing her feet between a man’s legs on a chair. His gasp of surprise turned to a sigh of disappointment as she ignored him in favor of her target. She turned to her prey, kicking one leg high and swinging it over his head before straddling him on the chair.
Oh, yes. She would play with this one before killing him.
His cock felt like a thick club, poking up at her against his pants with such force that she knew he had to be in pain. She wiggled her hips, and it rubbed against her soaking cunt with a friction that almost made her come again. She’d have to throw her panties away when the night was over, but she didn’t care. This was delicious.
Closing her eyes, she rubbed against him once more, enjoying the extra friction from the fabric covering his erection. She could feel the thong going even further up her ass, slipping up between her labia. She stroked him once more, purring, and then opened her eyes.
He watched her, his face suffused with blood and his eyes filled with wonder.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly smooth. She cocked her head at him, growing ever more pleased with her new discovery. Despite how he must be feeling, he controlled himself. It intrigued her. She wanted to make him lose that control, teach him what it meant to have a woman use him. She would, too, before she finished.
“I don’t know,” she said, giving him a winsome smile. “There’s just something about you, I guess.”
She half expected him to burst out laughing, the line was so pathetic. His face grew thoughtful instead, and then he smiled. How disappointing—he was just as easy to fool as all men were. How sad. She wiggled against him again, deciding with a cock like that, he didn’t need a brain. He’d still be worth taking home for the night.
She leaned forward, allowing her lips to brush his ear.
“My fee is seven hundred credits for the evening,” she said softly, then sunk her teeth into his earlobe. He shuddered, and she ground herself against him again before pulling her head back to smile at him again. This time she let some of her hunger show in her face. He swallowed, and nodded quickly.