Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dean
It's a good thing Mac was here to keep me in my seat after Sloan left the stage. Watching her bounce around the club, dancing for those fuckers was every bit of the hell I deserved.
She was enthusiastic and sexy as she mingled with each table.
While she didn't outwardly show any preference, I could tell she was more at ease when engaging with members of the Forged Soldiers than she was with the Hell Hounds.
Like she knew they were the lesser of the two evils circulating through the club.
I knew her intuition would make her perfect for this job.
Just like I knew her outgoing personality would put the customers at ease enough to hopefully spill some secrets.
Her lips didn't stop moving any more than her body did as she navigated the floor, offering lap dances and conversation as the other dancers entertained the masses from the stage.
I just hope she got something we can use to solve the case my department is working on.
By the time we close and the last dancer is escorted to her car, I'm over sharing my tiny dancer. I pull her into my lap and nip her ear before whispering, “Did you have fun torturing me tonight?”
“Uh huh.” She giggles as I run my nose under her jaw. “Would you like a lap dance, Sir?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum as I run my hand up her thigh and under the silk skirt that barely covers her ass.
“You didn't get to use any of the private rooms tonight. I think that would be best.” I stand and carry her down the hall opposite the bar, where the private rooms are located before setting her on her feet in the first room.
She uses the keypad to select her song and lighting before turning and pushing me back until I'm sitting on the leather sofa.
Then, she starts her dance as Tiny Dancer plays through the speakers.
It's not the same routine she did yesterday since she's not wearing pointe shoes.
It's more contemporary, and it amazes me how she can bend her body to the notes, making a song from over fifty years ago seem brand new.
It occurs to me that this is the kind of dance she could be doing on stage in front of a packed auditorium instead of a private room in a seedy strip club.
I robbed her of that when my torment sent her running back to Thorngrove instead of accepting the offer to join the dance company in Cherokee Falls.
I can't change the past, but I can damn sure make sure she gets the future she deserves.
Before I can voice what's in my head, the song ends and another song begins to play.
Sloan sways her body to the bluesy, sultry melody of Love is a Bitch by Two Feet. She stalks toward me and climbs onto the sofa to straddle my lap, rolling her hips the way she did when she rode my cock this morning.
I feel my cock thicken as I watch the wave of her body move as if it's part of the music. When my hands come up to her waist to pull her down against me, she shakes her head with that sly grin.
“Customers aren't supposed to touch the dancers,” she scolds playfully before letting out a whimper when I thrust my hips up.
“I'm not a customer,” I remind her. “I own this club. I own you,” I growl as she continues her dance with our groins now touching.
My hands roam her body with a feather light touch.
Not enough to hinder her movements, but just enough that she can feel my touch.
Every roll of her hips has her warm heat stroking my dick through her lacy panties and my jeans.
Too many layers for me to enter her the way I'm dying to, but not enough that I can't feel the way she gets hotter with every beat of the music.
By the time the song ends, we're both trembling with want.
“Dean,” she whimpers when my hands stop on her waist. “I want you.”
“Which Dean do you want?” I whisper in her ear as my hands slide down to her ass.
“Remember what I told you about the man I am, Dahlia.” I raise a brow, knowing she'll remember that outside of my office and our home, I'm not the good guy.
I pull her tighter against me to relieve the throbbing ache in my cock.
“You want this here, or do you want to go home?”
“I want you here…now.” Her eyes flash with desire as she grinds herself against me, and I realize that my woman wants to be used as much as the devil inside me wants to punish her for tempting me all night.
“Get on your knees,” I demand as I grab her hips and push her off my lap.
Despite my sudden rough movement, she drops to her knees gracefully as I stand and kick off my shoes.
“Good girl,” I praise her as I run a thumb along her jaw before dropping my hand to collar the front of her neck with a rough squeeze.
“Now, take my cock out so I can fuck this pretty little throat.”
Her eyes widen in excitement as she reaches for my belt. She makes quick work of freeing my throbbing dick from my pants before letting out a whimper when I stop her from leaning forward to take me into her mouth.
“Take my pants all the way off,” I say as I stroke myself with my free hand. Once my pants and underwear are around my ankles, I step out of them and release her to take a step back and sit on the couch, spreading my knees wide.
I've watched her dance with other men for years, but that was nothing compared to watching her from the same room without being able to touch her the way I wanted to. Now, she's on her knees, silently begging for me while knowing that she can't touch without my permission.
“No!” I stop her when I catch sight of her hands dropping to her thighs and sliding under her skirt, trying to tempt me. “You want to touch me; you touch only me.”
I expect her to snap back like she's done so many other times, so imagine my surprise when her only response is a muttered, “Yes, Sir.”
“That's my good little Dahlia.” I have to squeeze the tip of my cock to stop myself from blowing my load at the sound of her submission. “Now, crawl to me.”
Her eyes bounce to mine with defiance—promising a world of punishment when we get home—but she does as she's told. When she reaches the space between my legs, she sits back on her feet and waits for my instruction.
“Put your hands on my thighs. Tap out if it's too much.” When she rolls her eyes as her hands land where I told her to put them, I lean forward with an evil grin. “I'm not promising to stop, but as least I'll know I'm taking something you're no longer willing to give.”
When her mouth pops open in shock, I grip both sides of her head and slam her face down onto my erection until I hit the back of her throat, relishing the sound of her gagging at the unexpected intrusion. I weave my fingers into her hair and squeeze, making her moan around me at the sting.
It didn't take much for me to realize that she needs a little bit of pain to get off. It's the reason none of the marshmallows she's fucked the past five years have been able to get the job done. Thinking about her with those other men has me wanting to punish her even more.
When she just holds my gaze without tapping as I slip into her throat, I feel the orgasm burning down my spine. I use my grip to hold her head still as I fuck her mouth the same way I did her pussy this morning. I'm rough and I don't hold back as her eyes water and tears spill down her face.
“That's it,” I say as I bury myself to the hilt. “Take it all,” I grunt as I hold her against me and spill into her throat.
She swallows around me, making another wave of cum erupt from my semi-hard dick. When it finally stops twitching, she holds my gaze as she licks me clean.
I don't miss the way she shifts her position, searching for the friction to ease her own ache.
“My dick is down for the count,” I chuckle. “But you can use my mouth since you did so good letting me use yours.”