“Hmm…” His eyes rake up and down my body and a shiver works its way up my spine. “I like Angel better. So, angel, show me what you've got.”
You?by Two Feet begins to play as I make my way over to the raised platform. I dance around the pole, circling and grinding against it, never taking my eyes off the man as I slowly lower my tight dress from my body. It slips to the floor and I step off the stage. The man watches me like a hawk as I sway my hips to the beat, running my hands over my body and back up again before moving to stand between his legs. I lean over, resting my hands on his shoulders, running my hands over his body, across his chest before spinning and dropping to sit in his lap. I lean against him, so his front is pressed up against my back and begin to grind against him. I can feel his erection pressing against my ass through his pants, but I try to ignore it and how sick it makes me feel.
A wave of nausea washes over me, but I fight it back down, and let my mind wander back to Dwight. I picture him beneath me, the feel of his body against mine, and suddenly I don’t feel so nauseous anymore. I get lost in the dance and focus on what I’m doing, hoping that it comes to an end soon so I can get the hell out of here.
The guy’s hands come to rest on my waist, and I grip them and move them back to where they were.
“No touching,” I whisper, my head falling back against his chest.
Soon, I get my wish. The music begins to fade out and the dance is finally over. He stands and not-so-discreetly adjusts himself in his pants when his gaze finds mine. “You really are an angel,” he says before heading for the door, glancing over his shoulder to get one last look before he disappears out the door.
I collapse into the plush leather sofa that’s still warm from the heat of his body and let the tears I’ve tried so hard to fight all night fall free.
Chapter 14
Quinn
Iswing my hips as I walk towards the man that’s sat in the red leather chair in the private room. I'm wearing a white lace bra and matching thong, clad in five-inch stilettos. The heavy beat ofBe Your Loveby Bishop Briggs filters through the sound system.
I feel more nervous than I usually do tonight, goose bumps breaking out over my skin as I stop just in front of the man. He's shielded by darkness so I can’t see his face, but I can feel his gaze burning my skin, making it prickle.
I drop into a crouch in front of his legs and work my hands up his calves and then to his thighs, spreading them wider as I situate myself between them. I lean towards him, my head hovering above his denim-covered crotch which looks a little tighter than they should do. I rise back up onto my feet and spin, sitting in his lap, I throw my head back and grind against him. I can feel his hardness through his jeans as I recline back, my head resting against his shoulder, his chest flush up against my back as I circle my hips, rubbing myself against him.
This is closer than I usually like to get with clients, but there’s something about him, something so familiar that I want to be as close as I can to him. He's intoxicating, filling each of my senses. I can smell his cologne, it’s musky with a hint of sweetness.
Where have I smelt that before?
He runs his hands up my sides and I let him. God, his hands feel so good on my body. His fingers dust across the sides of my breasts and I shiver, his lips grazing the sensitive skin below my ear, his warm breath making the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.
I twist back around, straddling his lap, continuing to grind myself against him while steadying myself with my hands on his wide shoulders. I can feel the steady throb between my lap get more intense as the coarse fabric of his jeans rubs against the thin material of my underwear. His hands move to cup my ass, squeezing the flesh.
I'm panting as I let my head drop back while his lips trail up my throat and over my jaw and a moan escapes my lips.
“Quinn,” he whispers.
Why did he call me Quinn? At the club I’m Sugar. How does he know my name?
I look to his face, but it's still hidden by a veil of darkness. He leans forward and his face comes into view, the first thing I notice is familiar crystal blue eyes.
“Dwight.”
My alarm jolts me awake, snapping me from my dream. I sit bolt upright and switch of the alarm. My heart is pounding so hard against my ribcage, the memory of my dream still very much at the front of my brain. It felt so real, so much so I can still smell his cologne, feel the ghost of his hands lingering on my skin.
Fuck.
When I said he looked like something out of a wet dream, I didn’t mean literally. He's my professor for fuck sake.
I'm still throbbing from the dream, and I’m sure if I were to reach down I’d find a wet spot on my panties.
I glance at the clock on my phone. I still have half an hour to get ready before I have to leave for college. I can’t go to class like this, all wound up and aroused.
I roll over and reach into my beside table draw and pull out my vibrator, switch it on and find my favourite setting before rolling onto my back, pulling my knees up and parting my thighs.
The second the toy brushes my clit, a surge of pleasure shoots through me and I gasp. As I add more pressure, the vibrations rippling through me, I let my mind wander back to my dream, imagining the feel of his hands on my body, the feeling of his lips on my skin.
I pretend my alarm didn’t wake me this morning, and let the scene play out as if I’d stayed fast asleep. He whispers my name in my ear as I straddle him, shamelessly grinding my core against his hardening cock. In my mind, he unfastens my bra and lets it slip to the ground before he takes one of my nipples between his lips, sucking and nipping at the hardened bud. My hands find the waistband of his jeans and I unbutton them, taking him out of his pants and working my hand up and down his length. I try to conjure the sounds he would make as I stroke him, the deep rumble that would rise from his chest. I imagine him pulling the thin scrap of fabric barely covering my pussy to the side before guiding me down onto him.
I feel my inner walls clenching around nothing, but I imagine I’m clenching around his cock as I ride him.
