Sinful Desires Vol. 3 (2 page)

“Are you wet for me?” Brock asked. “Touch yourself, baby. Tell me.”

I kept one hand on my breast as the other moved between my legs. My fingers parted my folds, sliding in between. I wasn't as wet as I'd thought I'd be, but there was enough to slick my fingers as I moved them back up to spread the moisture and put pressure on my clit.

“Are you wet for me?” he asked again. “Come on, talk to me. Tell me, if I was there, could I slide right into that tight little cunt of yours?”

“Yes,” I hissed out the word as I slipped a finger inside.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Brock's breathing was getting heavier and I saw his hand moving faster. “You like it when I take you hard and fast, fuck you until it hurts.”

It was no longer a question and I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. My fingers moved back to my clit, trying to move myself along. I was hoping to turn my arousal into an orgasm and release some of this pent-up energy and stress. At least it didn't seem like Brock needed me to say much of anything. He was doing just fine on his own. I let his words wash over me, trying to use what he was saying to further turn me on.

“If you were here, I'd have you ride me. Watch those titties bounce. Love that.”

I moaned; no other response seemed necessary.

“Are you fingering yourself?” he asked suddenly. “Playing with yourself?”

With a start, I realized his eyes were closed.

“Yes.” I was still touching myself, but my movements slowed. I didn't know if it was just the whole over-the-computer thing or the way Brock was talking, but I wasn't really feeling it anymore.

“I wanna see you come.” His eyes opened. “Make yourself come for me.”

I stared at him for a moment, but he didn't seem to notice my hesitation as he pulled his cock from his shorts. His hand was stroking faster as he waited. Suddenly, I just wanted to be done so we could talk. I leaned back and spread my legs, giving him a good view of what I was doing. I might not have been the kind of person who was comfortable with casual nudity, but when it came to sex, once we'd already been together a couple times, something like this wasn't exactly embarrassing. Besides, I thought as I began to slide my finger in and out of my pussy; it wasn't like I was really making myself vulnerable here.

I began to moan and breathe faster, twisting my face into faux ecstasy.

This was as much acting as what I did on stage at the club.

I made myself go long enough to be believable before calling out his name. He wasn't far behind me, grunting as he came. He gave me a lazy smile as I excused myself to clean up and I assumed he'd do the same. When I returned, I was prepared to tell him I wouldn't be making a choice about Philadelphia until he came to see me in Vegas, proving he was the kind of man I could trust to keep his word.

He was gone.

I considered calling him back, but my heart wasn't in it. My pussy ached from not being able to relieve my tension, and I was starting to get a headache. I'd had a horrible day at work, and I was still fuckin’ miserable from this heat. All in all, I decided it was best to chalk the day up to a total loss, take a cold shower and go to bed.

Chapter 3

I
didn't think Brock realized that the whole computer sex thing hadn't been as good for me as it was for him, and I wasn't about to tell him. Not when he'd called the next day to say he was flying in Friday night and staying the whole week. Rosa just rolled her eyes when I told, refusing to believe that Brock really was a good guy, and I was a little worried about how she'd be if Brock wanted to see the apartment. But before I'd been able to decide if I needed to talk to her about it, she'd announced she was heading down to Mexico to visit her mother, leaving me an empty apartment for the week.

With that headache out of the way, I went to work Friday night. I'd wanted the weekend off to spend with him, so asking for Friday as well had been out of the question. Brock had been very understanding when I'd told him and said he'd just have a taxi take him to his hotel and we'd meet up in the morning.

He’d been yawning and seemed really tired, so I never dreamed he had something else in mind.

The lights on stage were also blinding during the first number, leaving the audience faceless, so it wasn't until I went out for my first solo routine that I saw Brock. At first, I thought I was seeing things, but then his eyes met mine and I knew my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. It was Brock, sitting there smiling at him; and he wasn't alone.

Next to him was a young man who looked to be around Brock's and Reed's ages. He had a thinner face, with intelligent, bright blue eyes and thick black hair that looked like it could use a good haircut. I didn't need an introduction to know he was Julien Atwood. The Atwood family had been one of the most well-known families at St. George's, and even though Julien was four years older than me, he'd still been notorious even after he'd graduated. He was the family's black sheep, always doing things his own way and not conforming to the usual rich kid pitfalls like drugs and drunk driving. I hadn't realized that he and Brock had known each other or were still friends.

As the pair made their way to the end of the stage, I was suddenly grateful for my training. I didn't need much concentration to keep dancing because seeing Brock here definitely would've thrown me otherwise. As it was, my face flushed as he slid a bill into my g-string, his hand sneaking around my side to quickly pinch my nipple. I glared at him and saw Julien give him a startled look. I managed to finish my routine without further incident and hurried off stage to regain my composure.

What the hell had all that been about?

I leaned against the wall in the corner of the dressing room, ignoring the questioning looks the other girls threw my way. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall. It said something about the state I was in that my clothes were still in my hand, and I was standing there wearing only the tiniest piece of fabric the club could get away with. Usually I was pulling on at least a shirt as I walked off stage.

It took me nearly five minutes to pull myself together and regain my composure enough to pull on clothes and head back out into the club. Generally, between sets we were required to at least stand off to the side so that patrons could praise our work. At least that's how the bosses put it. Basically, it was a chance for the men to ogle us in skimpy clothes and make offers for public lap dances out here or private ones in the back. We were encouraged to mingle and most girls did although it wasn’t a requirement. It was the best way to make tips.

It wasn't money that made me venture out into the crowd. I'd spotted where Brock and Julien were sitting and began to work my way toward them, pushing aside hands that got a little too friendly.

“Hey, babe!” Brock jumped to his feet as soon as he saw me and grabbed me in a hug.

I let him linger for a moment before giving him a gentle push back. “Can't have everyone else getting ideas.” I smiled at him to show that his attentions weren't unwelcome, just not here. I didn't want the rest of the club thinking they could put their hands on me too.

Fortunately, Brock didn't seem to mind. “Piper, this is Julien Atwood. Julien, my girlfriend, Piper Black.”

“Nice to meet you.” I held out a hand and Julien shook it. His handshake was firm and he met my gaze, which I appreciated. Too many men under similar circumstances would've either looked away, embarrassed and uncomfortable or they would've been staring at my chest, remembering what was under my tight shirt.

“Brock told me his girlfriend was gorgeous, but wow.” His smile was warm and admiring, but not leering. “You're way out of his league.”

“According to you, everyone's out of my league.” Brock punched the other man's shoulder.

Julien shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”

I laughed and signaled to one of the waitresses walking by. After she took their drink orders and left, I said, “I can't hang around too long. The boss tends to get mad if we're paying too much attention to a single person or group unless they're paying.”

“In that case.” Brock grinned playfully and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what he was going to suggest. “How about you give me a private dance?”

I knew it wasn't a good idea, but one look at those pale blue eyes and desire was coiling inside me. It had been so long since I’d seen him and memories of our last night together floated into my mind. I’d missed him, more than I imagined was possible. And I wanted him, even after that disastrous computer chat.

“What the hell,” I muttered. I held out my hand and Brock took it, grinning at me foolishly. It was impossible not to grin back and my mood had lifted tremendously by the time I glanced at Julien. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” He smiled. “Enjoy your dance.”

“I intend to.” Brock winked and let me lead him back toward the private booths where we could entertain a client with something a bit more up-close and personal. How far we went was up to us, though we charged per song. Based on the expression on Brock's face, I doubted he'd be satisfied with a single-song private striptease. At least I hoped he wouldn't, because I wanted our first time together to last. Either way, I wasn't about to make him pay. That would be putting me too close to stepping over the line I'd drawn for myself when it came to sex and money.

We went to the private 'room' in the furthest corner. Separated from the other sections by curtains, it was in the corner which meant it actually had two walls, offering us a bit more privacy than the other sections. Some of the elite clubs had individual rooms where clients got to hear special songs, but the music here, while different from the main room, was the same for all the private dances.

Brock released my hand and took a seat on the massive chair that sat up against one of the walls. I adjusted the curtains and then turned back toward him, frowning when I saw he was holding out a credit card.

“What the hell, Brock?” My arousal was immediately tempered by the gesture.

“You're at work, babe. I don't want you to get into trouble.”

His logic made sense and, in a way, it was sweet, but my stomach still twisted as I took the card from him. He was right; my boss would be seriously pissed if he found out I was back here with my boyfriend instead of make money and serving ‘real’ clients. I was already on thin ice because of the time I'd taken off; I couldn’t afford to be reprimanded again.

I ran the card through the scanner.

“Don't set a limit.”

My mouth tightened. That he knew we could set an amount or a song limit told me this wasn't the first time he'd been back here. He hadn't lied; I told myself as I gave him back his card. He'd been honest that he'd been here before. I'd just never asked if he'd spent any extra time with any of my co-workers. I really didn’t want to know.

He crooked his finger at me, the grin on his face as bright as a little boy. I reminded myself that it didn't matter what either of us had done in the past. He'd picked me and I'd picked him. Neither one of us wanted to be with anyone else, and that was the only thing that counted.

As a new song started, I began to sway in time with the beat, losing myself in the rhythm. Brock's eyes were dark in the dim lighting, watching my every move. Seeing how I affected him, I felt a rush of power. I'd never considered that, when I was doing this because I wanted to, I was the one in control. I'd always consider what I did to be degrading, and while I could still see some of that quality in it, I now realized that there was more to my dancing than I'd ever realized. It was a rush, seeing how much Brock wanted me. Was I going to be all 'women power' and think this was the best job in the world? No fucking way. Was I even going to like it? Probably not. But, for the first time, I could understand why most of my co-workers enjoyed this line of work.

When I got down to my tiny thong, I didn't even hesitate. I turned so that my back was to Brock and bent, slowly shimmying out of the tiny scrap of material.

“Damn, that's hot.”

I straightened and looked over my shoulder, giving him a wink before slowly turning around. A third song began as I walked toward him, watching as his eyes flicked from my breasts to the juncture between my legs and then back again. I was surprised he wasn't touching himself yet, but the bulge straining against his zipper left no doubt to whether he was enjoying himself or not.

I went to my knees and pushed his legs apart, sliding my hands up his thighs. I kept my eyes on his as my hands went to his waist and made short work of his button and zipper. I didn't look down until I started to tug his pants and underwear down. He lifted his hips but offered no other assistance. I didn't mind. All of my attention was focused on the erection that had sprung free and was now bobbing against his stomach.

He groaned as I took him in my mouth, letting him slide over my tongue as far as I could before drawing back again. As my mouth and hand worked over his cock, my other hand was between my legs, finding me slick and wet with my arousal. It took a bit of concentration to keep a steady rhythm going with both hands, but I managed, fueling my own desire as Brock swelled and moaned under my ministrations.

His hands went to my head, fingers twisting into my hair. Little pinpricks of pain went through my scalp as he tugged which only added to my arousal, merging with the pleasure I was taking with my fingers. I wasn't into pain, but a little hair pulling and some light pinching, that I didn't mind.

I started to pull away and Brock's hands pushed me back down again, holding me as his hips began to rock, forcing him further into my mouth. For a moment, panic spiked and I was afraid he would hold me there while he fucked my mouth, then his hands were gone and I was able to lift my head. I glared at him as I coughed, but then he was pulling me towards him, his eyes so full of desire that my body couldn't help but respond.

His mouth covered mine as he pulled me onto his lap and I felt a hand between legs. I moaned around his tongue as his fingers pushed into me. He started with two, roughly thrusting them in and out, and I whimpered, thankful I'd already stretched myself.