Passion And Fire (Passion #4) (3 page)

His eyes were green and surprisingly similar to mine in colour. I’d never seen anyone with eyes the colour of mine until now. He had beautiful lips for a man, nicely shaped with a full bottom one that I just wanted to bite. “Whoa Flame.” I muttered to myself. No man, even the good looking fuckers like this one, were worth getting close to. I needed to stop those thoughts immediately, and yet my eyes continued to move over him.

He had a strong jaw, shadowed by a day or two’s worth of stubble. I could just see part of some strange tattoo on his neck that looked like a barcode, similar to those found on food in the supermarkets. His shoulders were broad, so he clearly worked out and yet he wasn’t too heavily muscled. I liked a man to be toned, but not that bulky, Mr Universe look. From what I could see, his stomach was flat and I felt a strange urge to touch it, to see if I could feel his abs beneath my fingers.

Reluctantly I found my eyes zooming in, on the light covering of brown hair I could see in the neckline of his black shirt. The man was dressed all in black for that matter. Head to toe and in jeans that hugged his narrow hips and curved almost lovingly over an ass that definitely got things wet south of the border, much to my frustration. His legs were long and my eyes followed them down to his shoes which were huge. Damn but if his feet were that fucking big, how big was his…”NO, don’t go there.” That voice in my head choked me off from finishing that thought.

With considerable effort I dragged my eyes away from his feet and met his green gaze again, cursing the man under my breath when I noticed the length of his lashes. Fuck it; seriously why did some men have the most amazing eyelashes? I wanted lashes that long; that were naturally like that, and not ones I had to dye to make them darker, or wear fake lashes for work to give me that more sultry look. Men had no right in this world having long, thick eyelashes; it wasn’t fair. Seriously, what the hell did they need them for?

I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me? This man was fucking with my mind somehow. Damn, I had to go. It was time to get ready for my next dance and this man, although sexy as sin was holding me up. He was wasting my time, and if he thought he had a chance with me, then he sure as hell was wasting his time. He had no chance, no man did. I stayed away from them because sooner or later they pissed me off, and when they pissed me off I’d do something stupid, I always did.

“I have to go, I’m working.” I told him, moving to brush past him.

“You work here?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah, shocked huh? I have to go, it was nice meeting you.” I churned out the mechanical response in an effort to be polite, but even I could hear the lack of sincerity in my voice and he grinned.

“Yeah, I can tell sugar. You’re sweet as pie. So what’s your name before you leave me all alone?”

I ignored him and continued to walk away. “My name’s Damien in case you wanted to know.” He called but I didn’t turn back. If he stuck around, he’d know who I was soon enough, just as he’d know what I was. I bet once he found out I was a pole dancer who worked in a strip club, he’d be glad he didn’t get in my pants. A lot of people made the assumption that as a pole dancer, I was also a hooker and would fuck anything with a dick.

Once I got back to the dressing room, I quickly changed into my next costume if it could be called that. It was simply an emerald green thong in shiny satiny material, and matching bra that covered my nipples but not much else. I slipped on heels to go with the outfit, teased up my hair into a wild mane and loaded on enough eyeliner to give me that sultry, sexy look I needed once I was under the spotlights.

I heard Danny go through his usual build up to get the men in the audience all horny for us, and when the music started up, I gave Amber a tight smile, who’d just rushed in to get changed, and I headed out towards the stage,; fixing a fake wide smile on my face as I stepped out under the lights.

Damien

Damien was feeling frustrated and not just sexually. That woman had driven him crazy and had him all worked up and yet she’d done nothing to encourage him. There hadn’t even been the tiniest bit of encouragement in her treatment of him, but he still wanted her. Fuck he wanted her, and just when he thought about leaving this damned club, the manager announced the pole dancers were about to begin performing again. Those words were enough to create a stampede of men rushing towards the stage. If the men were this enthusiastic, either the dancers were good or maybe the men were so drunk anyone looked good to them now?

Still, preparing himself to see some middle aged woman, with her cheaply dyed hair and trying to preserve a body that was well past it’s prime like some of these strip clubs had, he waited to see who this Flame was that had just been announced.

When she walked out, the very woman who had him all fucked up in the head, his mouth dropped open in amazement. He was in shock at the sight of her and the way she was dressed. Rarely was Damien shocked by anything, but he was now. The sight of her, with the lights shining down on her as she began to dance had him shifting restlessly.

As he watched, she did some gravity defying flip which catapulted her onto the pole, where she hung for a moment, body stretched outwards from it, arms spread towards the audience. His eyes moved over her, finally focusing on her thighs. Hot damn, those amazing thighs. No wonder she had such an athletic looking build. It was only her thighs that held her on the pole. The sight of her, body stretched out, hair like fire around her from the spotlights that shone down, lighting it up like a fiery halo of curls around her, damned if he didn’t almost come in his jeans right then.

Chapter Two

Damien

Fucking hell, Flame, that was her name. Flame, his redheaded beauty with the not so ladylike mouth on her was a pole dancer. Well that explained why she had muscled thighs. She’d need them to grip that damn pole and when he began to think about her gripping that pole, then he thought about her under him, those legs wrapped around him and those thighs gripping him tight. With every image that passed through his head his desire grew, and Damien knew he was going to have to get out of here and relieve the pressure in his dick and balls. Fuck he was primed up to near bursting point, and it was hurting to sit there with his cock nearly drilling its fucking way out of his jeans, and through the metal zipper as well.

Watching her perform was torture. She was good, damn she was really good. When she ripped her bra off and those magnificent breasts of hers bounced free he was sure a drop of pre cum wept from his cock since he could feel a slight dampness where he rubbed against the denim. When she started almost humping the fucking pole, he got even harder and the pain he was feeling was made worse by the fact his jeans felt as abrasive as bloody sand paper.

God he had to either get inside her, or get out of here quickly before he shot his load in his pants. It was either come like an over eager school boy, or he took his lack of concern over being an exhibitionist to the next level and fucked her brains out while she was still on that damned stage, right in front of everyone in the fucking club. Now that might get her a few tips.

Much as he enjoyed seeing that gorgeous athletic body of hers on display and watching those breasts swaying as she performed, real breasts too, not manufactured ones, he almost sagged with relief when the music came to an end as did her routine. He’d never been so turned on and so close to coming in his life, and all just from visual stimulation.

It was a bit of a blow to his male pride to find himself so close to losing his load in his pants. Fuck he had brilliant control, usually. He could fuck and fuck and fuck and not come and once he finally did, he could fuck and come multiple times. Ok being vampire enhanced that ability for sure, but he’d taught himself to take it to the extreme when he wanted to.

When Flame left the stage, Damien gingerly got to his feet and began to make his way out of the club. It was taking everything in him not to wince and groan at every step. As he walked he tried to stop his body from making contact with anyone as that might tip him over the edge, or be highly embarrassing if he brushed against another man’s ass for example. Fuck that woman for having this effect on him. The sooner he got her under him or straddling him the better.

Finally he made it outside and he paused for a moment, leaning back against the wall of the club, eyes closed, feeling the vibration from the pounding music inside. He tried willing his cock to go down, muttering under his breath, over and over again but it just wouldn’t damn well work.

“Fuck her.” He swore under his breath and then tensed when he heard a voice nearby. His eyes shot open, his head turning until he found her; dammit, it was her. This was all he needed; her now while he was like this, struggling for control.

“Do you always stand outside clubs talking to yourself?” She asked a smirk on her gorgeous face. “Oh wait; you’re talking to your imaginary fucking girlfriend aren’t you?”

Damien opened his eyes again and stared into her stunning green ones, seeing the humour in them. He might have been ok with that, if that humour wasn’t being directed at him.

“Fuck you.” He snapped and ground his teeth when she laughed at him.

“Wow, now that might have hurt, if I actually gave a fuck.” She told him.

He groaned silently. He wanted this damn woman so much but she was giving him shit at the worst time. If she lowered her eyes she’d know straight away what was wrong with him. Having her close, smelling her, hearing her, just seeing her wasn’t exactly helping him to get himself under control, but then as he watched her through narrowed eyes, he suddenly realised he didn’t have to get himself under control. He’d mind control her and either fuck her, or perhaps fucking her mouth might be the way to go, for not only quick relief but also to give her something to do with that smart mouth of hers.

Gently he eased himself off the wall and stepped forward, his gaze fixed on her, struggling not to crack his teeth against one another when his jeans rubbed against his hugely swollen cock. He needed to hurry and bend her will so he could ease the strain behind his zip before he did himself a permanent injury.

When he was standing before her, looking down into her suddenly startled eyes, he didn’t waste time and began the process of bending her mind, his gaze locked on hers. He frowned when she didn’t immediately get the classic serene expression humans got when they were mind controlled. Still she wasn’t talking, so no more smart ass comments and confident that she was under his control, he reached for her, to pull her into his arms.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She snapped, slapping at his arm. “Were you going to try and kiss me? I didn’t tell you, you could do that. You fucking men are all the same.” She stepped back from him, her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. “I’m a fucking pole dancer. I take off my fucking bra, that doesn’t mean I want to get laid by every single horny fucking moron who comes into the club. I’m…a…pole…dancer…not…a…fucking…whore!” She spat out, one word after another, as if trying to beat him over the head with that information. “I get paid to dance, not fuck every damned loser who turns up thinking its ok to grind his fucking hard dick against me.” She cast her eyes down to his groin and her eyebrows shot up. “Wow, impressive.”

Her words made a smile curve his lips and when she stepped closer, he felt his excitement grow. She raised her head, her eyes wide as they met his and he couldn’t stop his focus shifting to her mouth, when her tongue appeared, sweeping over her full bottom lip.

Damien felt himself grow even harder which he wouldn’t have thought was possible as he watched the movement of her tongue and wished it was him doing that. He tensed when her hand came out and smoothed down his stomach, his abs tightening under her touch and when she kept going and stopped over his cock, he hissed loudly. The feel of her warm hand through his jeans was both an agony and an ecstasy for him. He groaned and tried to push into her touch but she smiled at him reaching up to place her lips against his ear.

“You might have a big dick there Mr.” She whispered and the aforementioned dick jerked under her hand. “But…there’s one problem.” She shifted back to stare into his eyes, her hand still resting on his cock. “I don’t fuck losers.” She said, a wide smile lighting up her face and before he could react to the insult she’d just thrown at him, she closed her hand over his rigid shaft and squeezed hard.

“HOLY FUCKING HELL!” He shouted, grabbing at her fingers, peeling them off him, before bending at the waist as pain shot through him nearly bringing him to his knees. “Fucking bitch, fuck off then. I wouldn’t want to fuck you anyway.” He ground out between gritted teeth and she laughed at him.

“That makes two of us then because I sure as hell don’t want to fuck you. I have better taste than that.” She shot at him before spinning on her heel and disappearing towards the car park.

Flame

I couldn’t help bursting into laughter on the way home from the club. That had been hilarious with that good looking fucker. The look on his face was priceless. Ok the man was good, really good and he was the first man in a while who could actually peak my interest. Well he’d managed to get me wet and I was still wet. I could feel the dampness in my panties as I drove. It didn’t matter though; I couldn’t get involved with anyone here. I never stayed in one place long enough because of what I was. Once people realised, then I became like a fucking circus freak to them and I hated that. It wasn’t that big a deal really, being able to move things with my mind.