I told myself it was a conquest. Pure and simple. Chloe was a thrilling prey—her fight made the hunt electric. I craved the chase, not some bullshit deeper crap. Once she caved, game over, interestgone like all the rest.
But she'd end up mine. No question.
Tonight, I handled Silvio's leftover personnel mess. New manager, Drew—fifties, balding, cautious type. Luca picked from the pile. Decent skills.
I said one thing.
"Chloe Bennett is my woman."
Drew switched her shifts and duties pronto. Saved me the hassle.
I also spotted another guy at the club. Liam, the bartender. Always hovering around Chloe, handing her water, blocking drunks. High school buddies, apparently. He started before her.
I didn't like him.
Specifically, hated how he eyed her. Kid's intentions screamed obvious. Too bad he picked wrong.
Chloe was mine. Killing some irrelevant bartender? Wouldn't even break a sweat.
At five-thirty AM, the club cleared out the last stragglers. The lights dimmed, just the stage one left. I sat dead center in the booth and poured myself a whiskey.
Music kicked in. Not the usual deafening electronic crap—a slow jazz number. Drew's call, probably.
Then Chloe hit the stage, facing an audience of one: me. She froze for a beat, surprised. But she pushed through, did her thing.
Her moves weren't pro-level. Transitions hitched sometimes, turns wobbled. Didn't matter.
In this empty club, she was dancing only for me.
It was the perfect little game to unwind after a long day of stress. The crotch of my tailored trousers had already grown painfully tight.
I set my whiskey glass down hard on the low table in front of me, spread my legs wide, and stared straight at Chloe's body on the stage without the slightest shame. My right hand slid straight down.
With a single motion, I undid the metal belt buckle. The crisp "click" echoed loudly in the quiet room. Right after that came the harsh sound of the zipper slowly being pulled down.
Chloe's movements faltered for a split second. Her honey-coloredeyes drifted toward the source of the sound and immediately landed on my newly freed cock. She bit her lower lip, her gaze lingering on my hand for half a second in panic before she jerked it away as if burned.
Her cheeks and neck flushed a deep crimson in an instant, even the tips of her ears turning bright red.
Fuck, she was adorable.
My rough palm wrapped directly around my already swollen, rock-hard shaft. The scalding heat of it nearly made me groan out loud. I kept my eyes locked on the curve of her waist highlighted by the lights, on the glistening layer of sweat covering her skin.
The sheer outfit hid nothing. Every bounce, every roll of her hips made her breasts threaten to spill out completely. My strokes grew firmer, wet skin-on-skin sounds filling the quiet club like filthy music.
Chloe's dance completely fell apart. Arms raised, chest heaving, she was panting now, thighs trembling. Her eyes kept betraying her—flicking back to my thick cock as I pumped it harder, faster, twisting my fist over the swollen head with every upward stroke.
"Pervert…" Her voice was breathy, shaky, laced with both shame and something far darker.
The word only made me harder. I grinned darkly, pumping faster, my hips bucking up into my fist. In my mind, I was already storming the stage, slamming her down onto the cold floor, ripping that useless scrap of fabric off her sweat-slick body. I'd pin her wrists above her head, maul those plump tits with greedy hands, pinching and twisting her stiff nipples until she cried out. Then I'd force her long legs wide open, press the fat head of my cock against her dripping entrance, and bury every thick inch inside her tight, scorching heat in one brutal thrust.
"Fuck… Chloe," I growled, voice hoarse with lust.
My hand flew over my throbbing cock now—fast, filthy, obscene. Pleasure coiled tight in my balls, burning up my spine. She stood frozen on stage, legs slightly parted, watching me jerk off to her like a helpless little deer in headlights.
With a deep, animalistic groan, my hips jerked violently. Thick,hot ropes of cum erupted from my pulsing cock, splattering over my fingers, my abs, and dripping onto the leather seat. The orgasm tore through me like lightning, so intense my vision blurred and my throat tore out raw, ragged moans.
I kept stroking through it, milking every last drop, chest heaving.
