“The music wasn’t as good, and the troll king doesn’t have a mole anymore.”
She exhales like I’ve let the wind out of her sails. “You noticed the mole last night?”
I nod.
“Do you think everyone did?”
“You mean do I think Frank did? Yeah, I think he did.”
She stops and leans forward over the dressing table. Her hands shake slightly before she rests them on it, looking like she might wilt like she did onstage when she was wounded.
“Hey,” I say, moving forward. I grab her and pull her into my arms. “If you need protection, I’m offering.”
She looks into my eyes, her expression soft and vulnerable. It makes me want a lot of things, and not all of them involve my cock.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” she finally says.
“If you say so,” I say, turning her so I can unzip the costume. The curve of her bare spine emerges, making me want to run my tongue over it. I press my thumb against the hollow just above her ass.
She tries to step forward. “C—”
I stop her progress and then push the costume down, revealing a tan thong and her firm, very round ass. There are no marks from last night’s spanking, which I guess is good since she had to perform. I can’t help but wonder how she’d respond to a whipping that leaves some marks.
I put my hand on her belly and slide it lower, dipping my fingers into her panties.
She grabs my wrist. “Connor, the door’s not locked,” she says in a whisper.
I let her go, walk to the door, and throw the latch.
“Take the pins out of your hair.”
Her back’s still to me as she obeys. The wild curls puff up when she runs a hand through them.
I cup her left ass cheek and tip my mouth to lick the side of her neck. “I should bend you over the end of the couch and spank your ass for being so fuckable.” She shudders, and I know a part of her wants me to do it. Instead I slap the cheek I was holding and take a step back.
She looks over her shoulder, her big brown eyes wide, pupils dilated.
“Strip off those panties,” I command in a rough voice.
When she obeys, my cock jerks in my pants, ready to be turned loose. I shed my suit jacket over the vanity’s chair then sit on the couch. I toss a couple of pillows on the floor between my Italian leather-clad feet.
“On your knees, little girl.”
She blinks, then turns. She’s naked, and her breasts sway when she takes a deep breath. I love her brown nipples. The tips are arrowheads at the moment. Her hands grip my thighs, steadying her descent.
“Take out my cock and suck it.”
“C,” she says, trembling slightly. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“We’re fine. No one will knock on that door while it’s closed.” I cup her chin and draw her closer to my groin. “Now be a good girl, and do as you’re told.”
“Just this once,” she whispers. “Because of how great you’ve made tonight—the flowers and dressing room and everything.”
I don’t care what she tells herself. This is not going to be the last time, and my treating her like my beautiful submissive has nothing to do with payment for lavishing her with the star treatment.
She undoes my belt and unzips my trousers. When she lowers the front of the boxer briefs, my cock springs free. I lean back and put my arms behind my head, watching as she takes me in her mouth. Her lips close around my girth, and I’m encased in her soft wet mouth. It’s heaven.
I close my eyes and savor the moment. A gorgeous naked dancer on the floor of her dressing room, servicing me while the crowds file out, talking about her other masterful performance.
