Chapter 6
Lucia
The pulsing ripples of my second climax are still shimmering through me when Dante bands his arms around my sweaty back and lifts me onto his lap.
His cock is curved upward and protruding toward his stomach, and his balls rest between his mannish thighs.
I’ve always loved football players’ thighs.
They’re chunky and durable, capable of withstanding any test.
After parting me with his fingers, he demands my focus by swiping the head of his fat cock over my clit. A low moan escapes me when my body picks up the thin layer of latex. I would have mourned if Dante hadn’t come prepared.
I would never have forgiven myself if I had to stop this now, but I wouldn’t have had a choice.
If I want to escape the circumstances of my past, I can’t repeat the same mistakes.
“Ready, angelo?” Dante asks, eyes fixed on me.
My head bobs, our closeness almost overwhelming. It’s so intimate being this close to him. I see every subtle change in his features as he slowly enters me, the relief that flashes in his eyes when tearing doesn’t interrupt his entrance.
I sway my hips side to side, trying to adjust to the sudden but much welcomed intrusion. A mix of pleasure and pain spasms in my womb as tingles spread low in my stomach.
It’s painful to be with a man as well-equipped as Dante, but also euphoric because this time, I’m no longer a virgin.
“Don’t rush,” Dante says, clutching my hips when I try to dismount him. “Give your body time to adjust.”
His slightly parted lips catch my moan as he flexes his dick, stretching me without removing his cock.
“That’s it,” he coaches as the rekindling flames licking my insides loosen the frantic clutch on my pussy. “Just like that.”
The rhythm of my hip thrusts is now painless enough to slowly slide me up and down his impressive cock. Our pace isn’t close to making love. I don’t even think you can call it that, but it feels incredible. It reminds me that sometimes pain can also be linked to pleasure.
Without the storm, we’d never see a rainbow.
A moan of relief that I finally get to choose instead of being forced slips from my lips as I wrap my arms around Dante’s neck. His leverage lets him move me easily, and in seconds, the fear of tearing turns into lust, and our rhythm quickens.
“Let me ride you,” I beg, craving a bit of control.
Dante sinks another two inches when he shifts from a praying pose to one that mimics sitting in a chair. After shoving his pants and boxers down to his knees, he leans his back against the only chair in the room and then waves his hand across his body. “Take what you need, angelo.”
I adore his nickname, but it couldn’t be more wrong.
I’m far from saintly.
Some choices were made for me, but others I chose myself.
They ensure I’ll never be mistaken for angelic.
Like now. This is about correcting my wrongs. I’m being selfish, and although I will hate myself for it the moment it ends, emotions are a poison to any goal.
With my arms draped over Dante’s broad shoulders, I rise off his cock until only the tip remains before slowly sinking back down. My legs shake as the thick girth of his cock stretches me, but the lust burning in his eyes as he watches me ride him makes the pain bearable, so I continue.
In minutes, I discover a comfortable speed for both of us, and it surrounds me with euphoria.
I have the control and the power, and Dante doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by it.
The knowledge sees me riding him quickly. While gripping his shoulders, I move my hips with each descent, taking him a little more. He’s so deep it’s almost painful, but I keep going, eager to take everything he’s willing to give.
“Christ, angelo,” Dante grunts, matching my sentiments exactly.
It feels amazing, almost unreal. So addictive that I’ll find it hard not to want another dose as soon as this high ends.
God, I wish I could do that. I’d give anything to feel this level of euphoria again, but it isn’t possible. I have a cargo ship of secrets, and even more shame.
“Help me,” I demand, too caught up in the darkness in my head to continue going it alone.
Dante doesn’t wait for further instructions. With his hand on my hip, he thrusts upward, stuffing inches upon inches of his cock inside me.
I scream out in shock, loving both the spasm of pain and the sparks of lust rushing through my core. He’s so deep I can feel my stomach shifting, trying to give him more space.
“Take me, angelo. Accept me inside you.” I scream his name inside my head on repeat as he slams into me over and over again. He guides me up and down the rigid length of his cock, leaving my shame for dust. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A moment to escape? To be free of the torment?”
“Yes!” My moan is in response to both his question and the brutal pounding he’s giving me.
I move on instinct, grinding against him and taking him as deep inside as I can. His moans and the words he speaks while fucking me send my excitement soaring. I’ve never been more electrified.
I come with a desperate gasp, my pussy rippling around him. Skin slapping skin booms around the Viper Room for several long seconds as my body convulses through the most brutal orgasm I’ve ever had.
Dante keeps going, though.
He keeps pounding into me, fierce grunts ripping from his throat.
He fucks me the way he needs to, and I allow him to use me.
The intensity of his thrusts as he drives into me pushes me to the edge of release again in record time. I match his rhythm grind for grind, certain I’ll lose myself to sexual depravity if I don’t climax within the next five minutes.
I need my next thrill as badly as I want to feel the twitches of Dante’s cock when he loses control.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips pistoning.
The power of his body and the control he can exude over it have me quivering in the throes of ecstasy for the fourth time. I climax with a cry as lust brutally etches Dante’s face with need.
I’m not the only one spiraling out of control.
He’s right there with me.
He growls my name as he comes. The feeling of his release inside me, even with it being in a condom, prolongs my orgasm. My teeth clench as stars blister.
While riding the hysteria I was raised to never expect and not ask for, I bury my face in his neck.
I’m open, vulnerable, and exposed, so I have nothing to protect me when his following words pull the carpet out from beneath me. “Fuck, Lucia. That was amazing.”
He knows my name.
My real name.
That isn’t good, and it means one thing.
I can never see him again.
That name bears lies that could tear him apart as easily as they’ll destroy me. They could upend everything he’s trying to do for his daughter, and for some foolish reason, that hurts me more than what I have to do next.
I force my expression into something I hope appears charming. I’ve been told more than once that I have a Hannibal Lecter smile when I find myself in an uncomfortable situation.
My smile is fragile, made from glass, but my voice escapes with a sultry purr thanks to the husky rawness of countless orgasms. “Hold still.”
Dante arches a dark brow when I reach for his tie. Even while he screwed me to a near comatose state, the upper half of his body remained fully clothed. His dress shirt is crinkled but relatively untouched, and his suit jacket conceals the muscles he used to drive me senseless.
The only clothing he’s shed is his pants and boxer shorts, which are huddled near his shoe-covered feet.
“Don’t tell me you’re done already?” I mock, my tone playful. “I could have sworn you were an into-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning man.”
I nearly choke him with his tie when his cock, still inside me, flexes near the end of my question.
“Who said we were done, angelo?” He brushes a strand of hair from my sticky face before tucking it behind my ear. “Perhaps I wanted to take this somewhere more comfortable, somewhere where I can fuck you all night and halfway into tomorrow evening.”
Lust sharpens my tone as I reply, “What’s wrong with here? We have everything we need.” I slide off his tie, tell him to give me his hands, then loop the dark silk around his wrists.
His laugh is too trusting when I do a double-column tie instead of the standard single to fasten him to the chair. It’s one of those large wood-and-leather chairs they bolt to the floor to ensure the safety of the patron when the stripper dances around them.
It won’t be moving anytime soon, and neither will Dante.
He doesn’t notice how my hands shake or my throat bobs when my attention is drawn to the money he put on the table earlier. All he hears is the lust crackling in the air and my disappointed sigh when I realize I can’t leave his money behind.
The slow week has already killed my earnings target for this month. I can’t let this opportunity slip away from me.
“Lucia—” Dante begins, but I’m already moving.
I grab his money and his trousers in a last-ditch attempt to escape unscathed before I bolt for the nearest exit, my strides shaky and unsure.
“Lucia!” His voice cracks behind me as he struggles with his tie. “Wait!”
I don’t stop. I can’t. This is about far more than he realizes.
After slamming the stage door shut, I twist the lock. Dante’s fist whacks the other side a second later, and the boom vibrates through the metal. I don’t understand how he got out of the chair so quickly, but it doubles the length of my strides when I head back to the central hub of the club.
I curtain my face with my hair when I notice a tall, broad-shouldered man down the corridor. Walking these halls in only a bikini top is nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, I probably look a little strange. Most of the dancers walk around naked.
After entering the dressing room, I dress in sweats, then gather my belongings. It would be great if I could leave my things where they are, but they’re all I have. That one little bag I carry with me everywhere I go is my sole reason to live.
My heart races when I sweep my things into my bag. Most of it is makeup, shoes, and cheap perfume I can’t afford to replace, but the sketch pad hidden in the concealed compartment is much more valuable.
Once I’ve yanked my “costumes” off the clothes rack, I turn and almost crash into Celesta. She doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried about my flustered expression. She appears relieved.
“Good set tonight.” She presses a thick-wadded envelope into my hand. “Here’s your share of the Viper Room profits.”
The weight is off. It’s too heavy. My throat burns with worry as I flip through the stacks of hundred-dollar bills. There are more than eight of them.
“This is too much. It was only supposed to be five thousand.”
Celesta drags her painfully thin hand through the air.
“He paid for the whole night.” She winks as if we work in the prostitution field rather than the legal industry of adult entertainment.
“And a little extra to clear the room. You’re okay with that, though, right?
You’re always asking for extra shifts.” Even though she’s asking a question, she doesn’t want me to reply.
“How was he? You can look like him, strut like him, and suck in the sack. I bet he was as godly between the sheets as he looks in his Armani suit.”
Even if I wanted to believe I could keep my job, her response announces that is impossible. If she believes I’m willing to sleep with a stranger for money, she’ll never support me when I tell her I have a phobia of touch, so I can’t do private lap dances.
I don’t have a fear of touch, but it’s the only thing that’s kept me on the main stage the past two years instead of in the seedy back rooms. Stage lights change my appearance as much as wigs do, and years of mastering the pole usually keep the patrons happy enough that I can avoid bumping and grinding against them.
Although I wish I could keep the money, it wouldn’t be right. So instead of shoving it into my backpack with the thousand I already took, I separate one bundle into two, stuff the smaller portion into my purse, then hand the remaining bundles and the slightly bigger portion to Celesta.
“Cici?” Her eyes bounce between mine as panic takes over. “I thought you were okay with this.”
“I was,” I lie, nodding. Then I switch it to a shake. “I have to go.”
“All right. I’ll tell Salvator that you got your period. Text me an update later tonight, okay?”
Ignoring the concern in her voice, I nod and then push past her. I don’t have time to indulge her worry that not all women will sell their souls to the devil for money, and sometimes, the men who can afford to buy sex are usually the most villainous. That’s on her karma ledger, not mine.
Furthermore, if that’s all I wanted for my life, I’d still be living under my mother’s roof.
Outside, the cool air slaps me back to reality. Several regulars murmur my name in disbelief when they see me. They stare, shocked the entertainment came to them instead of the other way around.
Two bodyguards, who are pretending the floors inside are packed to the rafters, hold back a dozen patrons from the main entrance. With an arrogant grunt, they deny a man entry after a brief interrogation and checking his license.
A new kind of worry churns in my stomach when one bouncer turns his eyes my way. He has the same dark eyes as Dante, but he’s not close to his height and weight.
“Lucia?” he says, disbelief in his tone.
As he murmurs something into the cuff of his immaculate suit, I signal to the first taxi I see and then slide inside.
My heavy breaths fog the window when I tell the driver to go.
“Where?” he asks.
“Anywhere. Just go!”
As he drives away from the curb, the club doors suddenly open, and Dante stumbles out. While scanning the street, panic evident on his face, he shields his groin with the thick arm of a wooden chair and both hands.
Yes, he needs more than one hand, even when soft.
“Should I stop?” the driver asks, watching Dante approach the cab in the rearview mirror.
He hasn’t spotted me. He just somehow sensed where I went.
My shoulders sink as low as my tone when I say, “No. Keep going.”
I don’t know why I feel ashamed. This is the first time in ages that I’m not running because I’m cornered.
I’m running because it’s the right thing to do.