Chapter 3 Roman #2
It’s different from the dancing she did out in the main lounge. That dance had been all about sex, raunchy and bold. Here in this dark little room, she isn’t performing for anyone but me.
The last time I gave into temptation and allowed things to get this far, there had been a stripper pole involved. That had been fucking hot. I’d made her dress up in rhinestones and platform heels and crawl around on the floor to blaring R&B music.
It had made me hard, but it had clearly been a show. This feels more natural for her—and therefor more dangerous. I need to put as much distance between myself and the true Noelle as possible.
But I’m a weak man, and she looks stunning like this.
Her movements are more ballerina-like, graceful, not in your face like earlier.
She twirls and my mouth waters at the glimpse of her ass, the way the strong muscles in her legs flex as she moves.
Her eyes close as I know she’s falling into the dance just the way I’ve seen her do so many times before.
She looks so happy when she dances. So peaceful. I could watch her forever.
But my reservation in the booth only lasts so long, and she knows that as well as I do. She does another graceful pirouette before finally stopping, facing me again.
I hit the button for the intercom before I can think about whether it’s a good idea.
“I want your bra off for the next part. Leave the panties on.”
She doesn’t nod or make any indication that she heard me. She just obeys—because that’s the whole point of this arrangement. Her hands come behind her and she removes the bra, the sheer lace sliding over her skin until she’s revealed for me. I curse, loudly. Those fucking tits.
Once I’m reasonably sure my voice will be steady, I hit the intercom button again. “Kneel.” Again, she obeys immediately. “Spread your knees further apart. Good girl.”
I’m watching her close enough to see the little shiver that goes through her at my words, and I grin in the darkness. My angel likes to be praised.
She also likes to be talked to like a filthy slut. The absolute perfect combination for a man like me.
“You read my instructions?” I ask, and she nods on the other side of the glass. “Good. Get started. Be as descriptive as you can.”
There’s a pause, and then she begins to speak in a clear, soft voice. “My fantasy begins in a dark room.”
I settle in to listen, leaning back in the chair. I spread my legs to give my aching hard dick some breathing room, and bring the tumbler of bourbon back to my mouth.
“I wake up alone, naked, on the floor. I don’t know where I am or how I got there. I can sense someone else in the room, but I can’t see them.”
I activate my side of the intercom. “Are you afraid?”
She nods eagerly. “I’m afraid. But…”
“But what?”
“I’m also…excited.”
I grind my teeth to keep from speaking again.
When I filled out her instructions, I requested that she tell me a favorite fantasy.
I wanted a glimpse into the dirty recesses of her mind.
I’m not supposed to be getting involved, asking her a bunch of questions, forcing my way in to be a participant in her story. I’m here to listen.
But fuck if she doesn’t make that nearly impossible.
“I hear the stranger come up behind me,” she goes on, her voice dropping a touch lower. “Before I can turn around, he’s putting a blindfold on me, telling me to be still.”
I let myself picture it—having this goddess at my mercy in the dark. Behind the glass, her eyes are closed—is she picturing it too? Is she wishing it was me?
Don’t be such a damned idiot, I tell myself. Noelle doesn’t think about you.
“Do you obey?” I growl out through the intercom.
There’s the slightest pause. Then she breathes out a soft, “no.”
I sit up a little straighter. “You don’t?”
She shakes her head, her eyes squeezing tighter. “No. I try to fight, to get away.” I watch the elegant column of her neck while she swallows. “He doesn’t let me.”
I groan, seeing it all play out in my mind. Noelle, naked, afraid, fighting back. Overpowering her. Taking her.
“He wrestles me back to the floor and ties my wrists.” Behind the glass, she squirms, her knees coming together, like she’s searching for friction between her legs.
“Keep your knees spread,” I bark. She doesn’t get to find relief. Not yet.
She makes a plaintive little whine, but her knees slide back to her former position.
“What does he do with you?” I ask. “Now that your hands are tied?”
She’s quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from her side of the glass her heavy breaths as her chest rises and falls. Then she tilts her head up, letting me see her face, and she smiles. “Whatever he wants.”
My fists clench in my lap, so tight my knuckles are turning white.
It’s taking every bit of control I possess to not break through this glass and claim her.
To take every inch of her for myself. I want to possess this woman, to defile her, to make her cry and moan for me, over and over again.
I want to see what that silky smooth skin would feel like under my rough hands.
I want to know what her cunt tastes like, feel how tight it would be around my dick.
Fuck, I want her. And knowing I can never have her opens up a chasm of darkness in my chest.
It’s not fucking fair. Not fair of the universe to put her in my path when I can’t claim her. Not fair to be confronted with all that beauty and sweetness every single day and not get to keep any of it for my own.
Noelle Kline is everything pure and good in this world and I refuse to taint her. Because that’s what I would do, if I let myself off this leash, if I allowed myself to take her the way I so desperately want to.
I’m not a good man. I’ve done monstrous things, things that would make it difficult for a decent person to sleep at night.
I’m too rude, too gruff, too rough for a sweet angel like her.
Not to mention the fact that I’m seventeen years older than her.
She doesn’t deserve to be shackled to someone like me.
And she would be shackled, quite literally. I know that if I ever let myself go there, I’d want to bind her to me in every way. I probably would never let her out of my sight. Hell, I’d want to keep her chained to my bed at all times.
Or else I’d tie her to me in a different way. A more primal way. I get a fleeting image of Noelle with a swollen belly, her tits even rounder, my baby growing inside her.
I almost come in my pants like a goddamn teenager.
But that’s not the life this bright, gorgeous, young girl deserves. She deserves better than me. And so I have to keep my distance. I have to look but never touch. I have to stay on this fucking side of the glass wall—not just tonight. For the rest of my life.
It’d be best if I left her alone entirely. I know that. She’d be better off if I stopped coming into the club, if I left town and stayed away.
But I’m not that strong.
I activate the intercom. “I bet he’d want to find out how tight your little nipples can get,” I growl. She whimpers, nodding her head. “Show me.”
She doesn’t hesitate for a second, her fingers coming up to squeeze her tits.
She lets out the prettiest little moan and I wish it was my fingers, wish it was my mouth wrapping around those little buds.
I’d suckle her until she was a writhing mess below me.
I’d let my teeth sink into her skin until she screamed.
“I like it,” she whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t—he’s a stranger and he’s got me tied up and blindfolded. I should be so scared. But it feels too good.”
“You can’t help it,” I soothe. “Your sweet little body is just too responsive.”
“Yes.”
“Is it making you wet? The way he touches you?”
“Yes! So wet.”
“Show me.”
She takes her time, letting her little hand slide down her body, from her tits down over her belly, going slow, teasing me. I’d spank her for that, I think, shifting to try and take some of the pressure off my dick. I’d spank her ass red for teasing me.
Always fucking teasing me. Every night I come into this place she drives me insane with her little shy smiles and her sinful body. She deserves to be spanked, to be punished.
“Now, angel,” I snap, and the little minx grins before finally moving her hand to the lace thong. I watch, mouth dry, as she slips her fingers below the elastic. I can tell the exact moment she makes contact with her pussy—her sharp little gasp is a dead giveaway.
“Run your fingers through your slit,” I demand.
“Gather up all that wetness to show me.” Her chest is heaving on the other side of the glass, her breathing even heavier than it had been while she danced.
She’s making the best fucking noises, little gasps and whimpers as she touches herself.
I don’t think it would take very long at all for her to get herself off.
Not yet.
“Stop.” I can tell she doesn’t want to—her whimpers have turned to a whine—but she does as she’s told, and my chest feels warm at her obedience. “Now show me.”
Her hand is shaking as she brings it free from her panties and holds it up. Even through the glass I can see how wet her fingers are.
“Fuck,” I mutter, not caring that the intercom is on, not caring that she can hear me. I’m losing my fucking mind and it’s all her fault. “Stand up and get your panties off.”
She moves so fast she almost stumbles, and I grin in the dark on my side of the glass.
I like that she’s eager, like that she’s enjoying this as much as I am.
She bends to remove the thong and I groan at her bare ass on display for me.
I’m tempted to tell her to put the panties in the pass-through cabinet for me, but I manage to control myself.
“Sit on the chair,” I say. “Spread your legs.” I watch as she does, my grip on the arms of my chair tightening. “Tilt your hips up for me. Let me see that little pussy.”
She moans at my words, following my instructions, and I curse once she’s fully exposed for me. She’s so fucking gorgeous between her legs, plump and wet and so pink. I need to get closer, to memorize every detail. To taste her…
Not happening, fucker, I tell myself, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches. Focus.
“I want you to show me what he would do,” I say through the intercom. “Show me how he would touch your pussy.”
She falters for the first time. “I…I’m not sure.” She looks directly at the glass, her beautiful blue eyes wide and imploring. “Will you…will you tell me?”
Fuck. Fuck. She’s such a perfect submissive. She doesn’t want to get herself off in front of me. She wants me to tell her how to get herself off. The distinction makes me even harder.
She wants to please me.
“It’s okay, angel,” I croon, and she visibly relaxes at the sound of my voice through the speaker. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Yes, please,” she whimpers, squirming on the wooden chair. I bet she gets it all wet and messy before the night is over. The thought gives me crazy ideas about stealing the piece of furniture right out of Club Wyld, but I force myself to pull it together.
“I want a finger on your clit,” I tell her. “Be gentle, angel. How does that feel?”
Her drawn-out moan is all the answer I need.
“Good girl. Add some more pressure. I bet he’d want to rub circles on that sweet little spot.
” Her hips are starting to shift, tilting up like she’s chasing something.
“You need more, don’t you?” I ask. “Don’t worry, he’d be able to tell.
Your body is so responsive. You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you? ”
“Yes!”
“Put a finger inside. Let me see.”
“Oh, god.”
I’ve never let it get this far. I’ve seen her naked, had her dance for me, instructed her to touch herself under her panties, but I’ve never demanded she spread her legs and let me watch her finger herself. There should be a million alarm bells going off in my head.
But I can’t fucking stop. I need to see this like I need the oxygen in my lungs. I can worry about what a mistake it was tomorrow.
“Another finger. Harder now, baby.” She whines and I tsk. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? A man who would kidnap you and lock you up naked in a dark room would be much rougher. Show me, now.”
She thrusts her two fingers inside and I growl. “Again. Don’t stop.”
“Please, I can’t—”
“Your other finger back on your clit,” I demand. “Don’t stop rubbing.”
Her voice is thin and reedy, like she’s right on the edge. “Oh, god, I don’t think I can—”
“You’ll do as you’re told.”
“Yes, sir.”
I bring a fist to my mouth and bite my knuckles to keep from roaring in triumph. I want to hear her call me by that title every day.
“Please.” She’s writhing all over the chair now, desperately chasing her climax. I want so badly to draw it out, to make her suffer. But our time is coming to an end, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get to see her finish.
“Are you picturing it?” I ask, my voice so raspy I wonder if she’ll be able to understand. “How it would feel, to be at his mercy? To know he’s in control?”
“Yes! Oh, I’m going to—”
“Come for me, angel. Let me see you fall apart.”
She does, and holy fuck is it glorious. Her entire body goes rigid, arching up off the chair, her fingers never stopping their movements. And her face…good god, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of her face while she finds her pleasure.
“Roman,” she moans as her entire body starts to shake. “Oh, god, Roman.”
Euphoria explodes in my chest. She’s coming for me. Not some unknown stranger. Not the wicked man of her dark fantasy. She’s coming for me, and she knows it.
But the joy and pride dissipate almost as quickly as it hit, as if I’m being doused in cold water. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to watch. Be a voiceless, faceless audience she could perform for. I wasn’t supposed to…I shouldn’t have…
Guilt twists in my stomach, even as my dick aches at the sight of her collapsed back in the chair, her body languid from her release, the sweetest little smile of satisfaction on her face. I did that for her, the idiot caveman in my brain asserts. Me.
But I shouldn’t have. I know that. And I can’t let it happen again.
A bell dings, the sound cutting through the tirade of self-recriminations flooding by brain. Noelle doesn’t give any indication of having heard it, her eyes closed as she smiles, clearly still basking in the afterglow of her orgasm.
Time’s up.
Without another word to the beautiful girl on the other side of the glass, I get up and leave the darkened room.