by Logan Fox
Whoever had built this room had known what they’d been doing: the pole was rock steady, the stage’s surface a perfect combination of give and take.
She parted her legs, bent her knees, and made brief contact with the pole as she hoisted herself up again. Pearl spun around facing the stranger.
He’d taken the center couch. He wore a similar getup to Gia’s wolf: gray robe and soft, colorless pants. A mask — this one a black, expressionless face — hid his features from her.
But not his eyes.
Pearl stiffened for a second. Her skin skidded over the pole’s surface as she slid her spine down it and flashed her legs open again in time with a crash of cymbals embedded in the track blaring through the room. The music grew deep and heavy. She undulated her spine in time with the beat, rocking her hips back and forth.
Why did those eyes look so familiar?
The man didn’t move throughout the rest of the next track. He simply sat, hands folded in his lap, watching her with that expressionless mask.
A new song — blended seamlessly with the previous track — started up. Pearl ran her hands through her hair and tugged at her ears, but this produced no reaction from the man.
God, this was impossible! How the hell was she supposed to know if she was doing something right? It was like dancing for the statue of David, except he at least had an expression on his face.
Pearl heard an approaching break in the music and swung around to face the pole. Hooking her leg around it, she arched over backward and began to unclasp her corset.
The man lifted his hand, index finger raised, and tut-tutted her.
Pearl almost fell off the stage.
She hurriedly jerked herself upright and turned to press her back against the pole, trying her best to keep some part of her body moving while the music faded to a whine in her ears.
He didn’t even want her to take her clothes off? Geez, what the hell kind of kink did this guy have? Dry-humping a stripper?
People with money were all psychos.
A stab of anger twisted her lips into a cold smile. After the torture she’d put herself through the entire time she’d been trapped in that tiny bathroom with the monolith that was Seth, she didn’t even have to take her clothes off?
Fuck that shit.
Pearl fell to her knees and slunk toward the masked patron, doing her best tiger-in-the-jungle impression.
The man shifted in his chair.
Got him.
Pearl rolled over onto her back and lifted her hips once, twice, three times — matching the rising tempo of the track — before letting her head fall over the edge of the stage.
The upside-down man shifted again, grabbing the legs of his pants and jerking them straight.
Pearl almost grinned but decided to keep that near-pout on her mouth instead.
Well, at least she was getting him hard; no one could ever say she did a lousy job on stage.
For a moment, she wondered if it was Tanner behind that mask.
The thought made her insides writhe.
But those eyes…
It wasn’t him.
Pearl sat up and spun around, parting her legs for the masked man. The music thumped away around her, and she rocked her shoulders and hips in time with it, dragging her hands through her hair and tweaking her ears. Still nothing. Obviously her ears did nothing for this guy.
She let her legs slide over the edge of the stage and dropped down in front of the couch. It was less than two feet from the stage, so her feet were right alongside the masked patron.
“Would you like a lap dance?” she yelled over the pumping music.
The man gave a slight nod and she let her smile warm. At least he had some blood running through him.
Then she glanced down and saw the massive bulge rising out of those soft pants.
Okay, lots of blood. Enough to power that leviathan, anyway. Pearl shivered, hurriedly suppressing the gesture by sliding her knees onto either side of the couch.
Waves of heat rose up from the man. He shifted under her as if trying to burrow into the couch.
A new stab of irritation washed over her. Was it the injection they’d stuck her with when she’d arrived, or just the fact that this guy seemed to wish she had a leviathan of her own instead of a nice warm cave for his to hibernate in?
Pearl almost laughed at the thought, but instead leaned forward and grabbed hold of the back of the couch. She used it for leverage as she rolled her torso in a wave toward the man’s prone body. Dipping her head down, she breathed warm air over the man’s neck, grinning when he shuddered under her.
He’d tut-tut her, would he? Well, she’d have him ripping her clothes off in about thirty seconds—
“It’s me,” the man whispered up to her.
She froze.
“Don’t stop!” came his frantic words. “You’ll give us away.”
Pearl did another slow roll of her spine, her mind roiling in the opposite direction her stomach coiled in.
“Greg?” she managed when her brain had stopped shouting at her.
“Are you okay?” Greg whispered up to her.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She jerked herself back — luckily in time with a change in the track’s tempo — and grabbed hold of Greg’s lapels in each hand.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she whispered as she dragged herself closer.
Greg moaned softly in the back of his throat and Pearl hurriedly lifted herself off him. It probably wasn’t good manners to grind the person you were trying to have a conversation with, was it?
“Sorry.”
“It’s…” Greg paused for a long exhale. “Okay.”
“Seriously, what are you doing here?” Pearl whispered, running her hands over her corset and toying with the ribbons crisscrossing the front of it.
“I was worried,” Greg said. “When you left… then I got a call from this girl called Sandra… Sherry?”
“Cheryl?” Pearl sat back, bringing another groan from Greg. She quickly straightened her legs, lifting her hips above his straining erection and rocking her body in time with — what she hoped was — the beat.
“Yeah. Her,” Greg said in a tight voice. “Said they’d taken your stuff away, man.”
“They did,” Pearl murmured. She ran her hands down Greg’s chest, ignoring the way he squirmed under her. “But I mean… I’m fine. This is what I signed up for.”
“To strip? I doubt it.” Greg shook his head, his chestnut brown eyes now easily recognizable behind the mask. “The things they asked me, what I wanted to do with you—” he cut off his stream of words with a snort and grabbed hold of her hips, dragging her closer.
“Hey—”
“They asked if I wanted to whip you, man,” Greg hissed in her ear. “Or tie you up. Or have you pretend to be a little girl—”
“It’s not like that,” Pearl said, struggling.
“They did all these tests to make sure I was clean. Fuck it, man, they even did a background check on me. What the hell kind of people do they let in here?”
“It’s to stop weird-ass people from coming in here,” Pearl said, her mouth twisting in frustration as she tried to sit back.
With Greg’s hands around her waist, she couldn’t move anywhere. Did he realize how tightly he was gripping her? She could feel the throbbing of his cock, mashed as it was against her sex. It was so hot down there, between their bodies. And the music thumped away as if deliberately trying to boil her blood.
She hadn’t realized it until now, but the lead up to this interrogation had made her damp and tingly. She ached in all the right places, and her brain kept sending lewd signals through her body, demanding actions she wasn’t sure she could complete anymore.
Not now.
Not with Greg.
Greg?
Greg her hero. Her fucking knight in shining armor who’d come to rescue his damsel in distress.
Hadn’t she told him she was doing this? Hadn’t she made
it painstakingly clear that this was her decision?
Just then, as if her thoughts had summoned it, the track changed. The sultry strings of a sitar thrummed through the room. Pearl couldn’t help it: she knew this track, loved this track, had danced to it so many times before that her body began to move of its own accord.
But it wasn’t passion roiling through her anymore: it was anger.
“Stop—” Greg groaned as Pearl ground her sex into his bulging mound of flesh.
“This is what you paid for,” she hissed down at him. “Best you enjoy it, Sir.”
“Please, I was just—”
He cut off as she jumped back and stood over him. His eyes were no longer on her face: her hips held his gaze — like an Indian cobra watched its charmer — as she swayed from side to side.
“Checking up on me?” she whispered to him.
“What?”
The music was too loud. Pearl glared at him for a moment. The track dipped down in preparation for the coming break, and she spun around, bucking her hips out so Greg had an uninterrupted view of her perfectly-clad ass and thighs, and the mound of her sex silhouetted against the stage’s spotlight.
She sank onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder and turning her lips to his ear.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” The slow, rhythmic circles she ground into his groin was making his dick grow harder every second the song carried on playing.
“Pearl, please. I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what? You didn’t come here to see me naked?” Pearl grabbed his wrists and slapped his hands over her breasts. “You didn’t think you might have to do shit with me so they wouldn’t get suspicious?”
“Pearl—”
“You didn’t think you’d have to fuck me to make sure I was okay?”
He growled and tried to shove her away, but she simply sat forward and grabbed hold of the inside of his thighs, forcibly parting his legs.
She slid between them, arching her back over his straining cock as she glided against him. He groaned, his hands trying to latch onto her shoulders to stop her.
Pearl swung around to face Greg, feeling a scowl settle on her face.
“Stop it. You’re here now, so you might as well fucking enjoy it.”
Her hands gripped the waistband of his pants and tugged. He drew a sharp breath as she jerked the soft fabric over his bulging erection, freeing his cock so it slapped into her breastbone.
She stared down at it for a second, her eyes widening.
“Oh, God,” Greg moaned, but why, she had no idea.
“Okay…” Pearl looked up at him. “Wow.”
“Pearl—” he made a grab for his pants, but she straddled him before he could catch hold.
She leaned forward, putting her breasts in his face and cutting off further protest as she took hold of his cock in her hand. It was hot and hard and filled her hand like one of those flashlights that could double as a self-defense weapon.
Greg threw back his head as she pumped it, her eyes moving back to the enormous thing she cradled with part wonder, part fascination.
Would it hurt?
Good God, when had she decided to fuck him?
Pearl shuddered, and Greg lifted his head, chestnut eyes filled with concern. She pumped him again, flashing the pad of her thumb over the spongy tip of his dick, and his head fell back.
Holding his cock like a joystick, one hand on his shaft and the other cupping his balls, Pearl rubbed her damp underwear against him, chafing her clit behind its wall of filmy fabric.
Greg grabbed hold of her thighs, head still thrown back, and began urging her to move faster up and down the length of his cock.
Hot tingles worked their way through her sex. Pearl arched her back, gliding along Greg’s dick in time with the pumping music. Her clit was already engorged with lust, and those incredibly sexy panties were soaked through before the track merged with a new, more upbeat song.
Greg moved his hands, his fingers gliding along her inner thigh and heading for her sex. Something — instinct or caution — made her slap them away.
He flinched, lifting his head from the couch’s headrest to stare at her. Concern still creased the corners of his eyes, but they sparkled with passion, too. With want. Need.
Again, he reached for her. Slower this time. She let his fingers touch the silky fabric spanned over her hipbone. His fingers moved down, stopping an inch away from her aching clit. Then he tugged away the fabric, exposing the damp folds of her sex.
Pearl jerked herself away from Greg’s dick, feeling her clit throbbing in warning, and swung around.
Still gripping his shaft — now with both hands — Pearl felt Greg’s fingers brush her inner thigh. He pulled away her underwear again, the tip of his finger grazing the sensitive folds of flesh around her sex. She shuddered and touched the tip of his cock against her.
“Are you sure?” Greg asked. The music fell into a lull, waiting for her answer.
Pearl sank down. His cock pierced into her. It slid deeper and deeper, filling her slowly and painfully. Pearl groaned, tossing back her head as her back arched. Hands grabbed her breasts, dragging her down further.
She stretched around Greg’s shaft, feeling as if she would split open. The pressure was intense, the strain evident in the heat surging through her.
He gripped her hips and lifted her up. She groaned loudly as he let her sink down again.
She had to move. She couldn’t just sit on him like a rag doll — limp and useless. But she was so overwhelmed — by his cock, the room, the music, those unseen eyes watching her — that her limbs had turned to straw and her brain to wood shavings.
Greg sat up, driving his dick hard into her. Pearl gasped, floundered for something to hold onto, and found the edge of the stage. Greg shoved her forward. She cried out pain, pleasure, and surprise as he bent her over the stage and began fucking her. He took a handful of her hair and jerked her hair back. She cried out again, but it was a breathless, keening sound this time.
Her entire body was on fire.
Electricity sparkled through her veins as she struggled to make sense of the signals flying through her brain. He tore into her again and again, each time wringing another gasp or wail from her.
The song pounded along with them, keeping time with Greg’s frenetic grunts and relentless cock. A hand found her corset’s clasps. Tugged them free. It fell to the floor, brushing her legs on the way down. He squeezed a breast — first the left, then the right — and tweaked her nipples until they were hard and raised.
“Is this what I’m supposed to do to you?” Greg leaned over her, driving his cock deep inside her as he whispered this into her ear.
“Yes,” Pearl managed.
“Then hold onto the fucking pole.”
Pearl’s hands slithered over the stage. She grabbed hold of the pole. Greg still leaned over her, his shirt-clad chest warm against her back. He still held her hair in one hand. The other had abandoned her breast and was working its way down her belly.
“I thought you were in trouble,” Greg hissed into her ear.
“I wasn’t,” Pearl said, but he didn’t seem to hear her, or care.
“I thought if I knew where you were—” He cut himself off with a grunt and dragged his cock out of her. He slapped it into her sex, jarring her. She gasped and bucked into him, arching her back.
He forced himself inside her again, filling her and driving her breath out in a rush.
“That you were safe—”
His fingers found her clit.
“That I could get you out if you needed me to—”
He strummed her in time with the music.
“Then I could finally stop thinking about you and get some fucking sleep.”
Wrenching back her head, tugging up his mask, Greg kissed her.
Pearl moaned against his mouth, but she was pinned by his weight, by her own grip on the pole. He thrust into her, burrowing his dick so deep inside her that
every thrust drew sparks down her spine. His mouth was wet and warm and so receptive to hers that she could feel it urging a climax from her contorted body.
Waves of ecstasy rocked her from side to side, billowing into her skin in warm buffets of sensuous fog.
His fingers stroked her, slowing. He began to slow those forceful thrusts into her from furious to intentional. Slowing until she wanted to scream at him, but couldn’t, because he owned her mouth and he wouldn’t let her.
Greg’s movements became spontaneous: fast, fast, slow. Slow, fast, slow. Building to some strange tempo that made her writhe and keen under him, trying to force him deeper or harder or faster.
His lips left hers. He tugged on her ear with his teeth, blinding her with the pleasure of it.
“Tell me you’re okay,” Greg whispered into her ear.
“I’m… o… kay…” Pearl said, his thrusts shattering her consent into its base syllables.
She gasped when she came, seconds later. Her hands tightened around the pole until her knuckles went white, but all she could feel was Greg filling her up and his lips on her neck, sucking at her, and those fingers strumming a clit that was already screaming in pleasure.
Her orgasm left her limp and ragged, but Greg still hadn’t made it to the precipice. He released her hair. Thankfully, removed his fingers from her aching clit.
And then grabbed her hips and began fucking her in earnest.
Pearl cried out in shock. Waves of hot and cold undulated over her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck and arms lifting as the friction between her tight, wet sex and Greg’s cock built an inferno inside her.
He grabbed her ass as he came, his fingertips sinking into the filmy fabric of her panties — God, were they still on? — and bruising the flesh beneath.
Greg shuddered against her as spasms rocked his body. He ran his fingers over her back, making her arch, and jerked her off the stage and against him. His hands squeezed her breasts and ran over her belly.
She pushed away from him. Her underwear slid back into place, that the flood of juices pouring out of her now trapped by the filmy veil.
“Are you—” Greg began, but Pearl squeezed her lips shut as she crouched and tried to find her discarded corset. “Hey—”
