by Shara Azod
Until tonight, she was careful to keep eye contact with each and every guy she danced for. It was easier to gage what they liked, what they didn’t. Most important, it never ever allowed her to pretend this was anything other than what it was.
Tonight she began with her back turned, and not just to show off her best asset either. She couldn’t care less whether Mr. Prichard watched or not, if he enjoyed the show or not. This dance was for her. The moves were for herself, the music wrapping her in the emotion of the song. Yes, Delilah understood the danger of what she was doing, but for the first time in a very long time, she allowed herself to get lost in the fantasy. Nothing mattered anymore. The shit she’d allowed her life to become disappeared. The man sitting there watching no longer existed. It was just the song, the beat that moved her hips to their swaying rhythm. She swiveled, twirled. Did tricks on the pole she hadn’t done in years when she thought it really mattered. In this place and time she was merely an instrument added to the song, a natural extension of the haunting melodies that filled the room.
Songs blended together; Delilah lost track of time as she danced, working her muscles, stretching her limbs, bending and twisting. She even forgot to hate the man she finally faced as the songs eased her inhibitions, creeping down into her bones and setting her free. It didn’t matter that the simple minds of men like him believed women like herself belonged in one place, in one role. The oppression of small minds that thought women like her belonged on their backs because it was all they could do couldn’t hold her down tonight. She allowed herself to forget men like Edward would keep her trapped forever in this dead-end life she was trying so hard to escape. The music moved her, and nothing else could touch her. It moved her off the pole, down the platform, directly in front of Edward Prichard, and finally onto his lap.
She truly hadn’t meant to do it. The arms that wrapped around him weren’t hers; they belonged to the melody. It wasn’t her hips grinding down in the enemy’s lap. She wasn’t the one ignoring the stronger, masculine arms that pulled her closer. And she was definitely not suddenly fascinated by the surprisingly full, tantalizing lips so very close.
It was the music, the dance that ran its large, warm hands up and down her back, over her arms, tangling in her hair. The music tightened its grip on her hair, fingers digging deep into the weaved strands, and she didn’t care to stop it. She allowed the music to tug her face closer. The lips that met her own weren’t that of a man, certainly not of a man she hated. It was the music’s kiss that was the perfect combination of sweet and spicy, stealing her breath and melting her body. Ah, the music’s lips moved against hers in a gentle caress, coaxing her to open. Delilah moaned, allowing the music’s tongue access. Contact deepened, intensifying as the kiss grew in aggression, becoming absolute possession. The tug on her hair became a sting, the pain adding to the pleasure that made her body heat almost unbearably.
Delilah fell.
The dance ceased to be a dance as her body strained against the stronger, harder, larger one beneath her. She forgot all her carefully crafted rules of survival, her standards of work conduct. When Edward’s hands began to remove her skimpy costume, she allowed it, was even grateful for it. Her clothes were choking her skin. Her own hands were busy doing her own tugging and unwrapping. She couldn’t stand the feel of linen, cotton and wool against her, between them.
Oh Lord, no stick-in-the-mud egghead should have a body like this! And she should be able to resist. This was the very last thing she needed to be doing. Edward was the enemy. Wait, no—it was the music. That made it all right, made what she couldn’t deny to save her life acceptable. Therefore it was perfectly reasonable the body under the stodgy clothes looked more like that of a ripped, lean boxer. Holy hell, there was even a tattoo on his left pec. A black design of some kind lined lightly in red.
Her lyrical lover groaned as Delilah ran her fingernails over the design. The response spurred her to duck her head and run her tongue lightly over it, and then her teeth. The hand in her hair pushed her harder against the hot, tangy skin. So she bit down.
“Fuck!” The music rose, a tower of strength and virility lifting her with him, allowing her fuller contact with the glorious erection nestled in his crotch. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
Delilah expected him to walk over to the bed. She wanted him to, needed him to.
He didn’t. Because she’d torn his pants down in a feverish rush, they fell to his feet as soon as he stood. Relinquishing the hold he’d had on her hair, both hands cupped her ass, helping as she frantically rode the ridge of his shaft.
Oh God, that felt so good. Too good. She was so wet, so primed, she shamelessly rocked against him, smashing her clit against the throbbing cock. Her nails dug into his shoulders, literally trying to climb him, trying to work the head close to her opening.
She almost managed it, so very close…until a palm left her behind, only to return in a sharp SMACK!
“Shit!” Stars exploded under closed lids. Her body shook as an orgasm slammed though her.
“Don’t you dare stop.” Edward’s deep voice—no, no, no…the music’s deep voice gruffly ordered while smacking her other butt cheek. “Come for me again.” No way; she couldn’t. The burn in her ass spread straight to her pussy, igniting another round of fireworks. Now it was Delilah’s turn to bury her fingers in his hair, pulling for all she was worth—so fucking good, so very hot. Sex had never felt as good, and this was just foreplay. She wanted more, needed more, and it had to be now.
“I need you inside me, Eddie. Please, now!”
He actually growled at her. A dark, throaty warning that just sounded delicious to her. Somehow he stalked to the bed without stumbling; he must’ve kicked off his shoes and pants, because he had no problem moving fluidly as if she weighed nothing at all. Dropping her on her back on the bed, he grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the edge. It was done forcefully, with absolute authority, but Delilah couldn’t really claim he was manhandling her in any way. In fact, it felt wickedly good to be overwhelmed without being overpowered. Dominance without threat. With the same kind of command, he opened her legs, thrusting inside her hard and deep.
Edward wasn’t making love to her, yet he wasn’t fucking her either. She couldn’t even say they were having sex. This was a possession, pure and simple. Thrust by thrust, he invaded her completely. She could feel him inside her womb, inside her mind; he was saturating every part of her being, and she loved it.
“Yes, Eddie, please! Don’t stop!” Was she babbling? She wasn’t sure her mouth was forming the correct words; she just wanted more and more.
“So tight, so wet.” Lord, but his voice was sexy. Sonorous, hypnotic, it washed over her. “I can feel you milking me, Delilah. I feel you coming all around me.” Yes, oh fuck yes. Her body seemed to be completely in his control. She bucked, clawed, ground against him. Anything to get him closer. “That’s it, baby. Show me you like it. Show me how good it is to you.”
Delilah canted her hips upward, desperately seeking fuller contact. The world was spiraling dangerously out of control, and there was no way to stop it. All she could do was scream and clutch the bed, trying to just hang on. Edward was relentless, his movements completely without mercy. She could feel the ridges of his cock as he powered into her, forcing her higher and higher. A hand left the bed and clawed at his chest. There were trails of red in ragged lines down his chest. So good, so damn good.
Even though she knew he hadn’t orgasmed as she had, he stopped. Their hips remained locked, his hard, hot dick throbbing inside her. His gray eyes were bright, searing her with their unblinking scrutiny. She wanted him to come; it was fast becoming a moral imperative.
Then it hit her. Oh God, he’d called her Delilah. He knew her real name!
Chapter Three
Damn it! Edward never meant for this to happen. Honestly, his plan hadn’t proceeded farther than making sure Delilah was occupied with a new regular customer who could pay far more than his n
ephew would dare. It would cause David to move on without things getting messy. The young were notoriously fickle in their affections; Edward was certain this would blow over soon enough.
Come into my web, said the spider to the fly…
He knew the moment she stepped up on the small platform and began to dance, she’d completely shut him out of her consciousness. None of the performance she gave was for him. It was pissing him off, but not for any reason that made rational sense. It wasn’t that he had paid for this farce, because that was what it was. She wasn’t really providing the so-called customer with a damn thing—she danced for herself. He hadn’t really paid for a stripper; he’d paid a woman who was far better than her circumstances in order to monopolize her time. That she was blocking him out, pretending he didn’t exist, had grated on Edward’s nerve. He wanted her to know that he was there, that he was watching. Not as some horny wastrel looking for a cheap thrill, but as a man appreciates a woman on a level deeper than the visceral. She spun, their eyes clashing.
He willed with all his being for her to descend those damn steps and come to him.
Never in a million years did he think such a thing would actually work. The clash, the chemistry knocked the breath from his lungs. A combination of blazing white-hot heat and a magnetic electrical pull he wouldn’t have believed existed before that exact moment.
As she had moved down the steps of the platform, moving in more of a mesmerizing slither than a walk, Edward had become hotter, harder. What followed was a natural as breathing, without thought or hesitation. As soon as they touched, her scantily clad body against his overly dressed one, he knew. Whatever she’d been doing with David, it wasn’t this. This wasn’t some groping act of illicit sex. This was a mating on a level he had never known could really happen. She definitely hadn’t laid one slim finger on a co-ed much more a boy than a man. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to ask.
To do so would imply distrust, and for a man who gave his trust to no one, he found he trusted this woman beyond reason.
He slid out of her slowly, never once looking away from her face. She was exquisite underneath all that makeup; almond-shaped eyes flashed from the amber he’d first seen to a deeper copper. Eyes that were beginning to clear from the sensual haze that had washed over them so recently. Couldn’t have that. He wasn’t ready to give up this particular dream, not yet. Moving unhurriedly, he pinned her arms above her head and took her mouth once more with his own. Sparks flew immediately, as he’d known they would. There was something combustible about the two of them together. Was she even aware of how sweetly she yielded to him, her body melting into his as he spread across her like a warm blanket? Careful to keep the majority of his weight off of hers, Edward gave in to the need to let his lips travel down to explore more of her rich, dark skin.
God, she smelled so good, like an exotic flower. He let her hands go, touching her everywhere he could. Her breasts were naturally full and plentiful, filling his hand to overflowing. Her long, hard blackberry nipples seemed to beg him for his attention.
He swirled his tongue around each erect nub, loving their unique texture under his tongue. The reaction he received was even better than the taste. She moaned oh so sweetly, tugging at his hair, urging him closer.
“Please, please, harder.” The gasping plea wrapped around his brain, triggering something he’d believed had died long ago.
Just to experiment, he bit down just a little. It was so hard to hold back, so hard not to let go completely. The action caused her to cry out, her back arching off the bed.
“Harder!”
Edward couldn’t keep his elemental self bottled up any longer. Using one hand, he pinned her hands above her head once more. He bit down harder, receiving a gasping moan this time, her body shaking under him. Keeping a firm grip with one hand, he allowed his other to roam free, sliding down her smooth skin until he reached her core. So wet, so hot. He ran a single finger down the seam of her labia, groaning with her as he found just how wet she really was. He hadn’t come from the first time, so he knew it was all her. Juices flowing freely, just waiting for him to take her again.
Not wanting to rush, he had to grind his own crotch against the mattress in a useless effort to relieve his aching dick. He was throbbing so hard, wanting so badly to be buried deep inside her. It was too soon for that. He would only come, leaving so much undone. The need to be with her as long as he could ran strong. The need to explore was even stronger. As impractical as it was, Edward wanted all else but the two of them, this second, this interlude, to disappear completely. He wanted the world outside the two of them to fade away like it never existed.
As a man who relied on empirical evidence, he didn’t believe in anything that couldn’t be proven. However, this attraction between them was very real; tangible, even. There was no getting enough of her. Holding her down, alternating between sharp little bites and gentle sucks on her breasts, allowing his fingers to thrust inside her drenched pussy, hard, purposely stroking her g-spot until she was nearly incoherent was not enough. He wanted more, more reaction, more of her.
“That’s it, baby,” he crooned against her flesh as she rode his fingers. “Don’t stop. Take what you want.”
She looked so damn perfect writhing in a dance to the music he created, not the soft strains of sound playing in the background. The same thought echoed in his brain over and over again. This is where she belongs, in my arms—always. No, this was far from practical, but Edward didn’t want to question it.
“Omigawd, Edward! Please, please, please.”
Every single time she orgasmed, her eyes flew open wide, staring at him as if she didn’t understand what was happening to her own body, before heavy lids drifted closed. She did things to him, all by a simple look.
“Good, baby, I don’t want you to stop.” He wanted her wild, crazy, out of her mind with him—only him.
Moving between her legs, he let go of her hands again, trailing nibbling kisses down her hot skin, stopping once he was at her core. The first swipe of his tongue against the wet, pink folds of her quim tasted like nirvana. Working his tongue deep inside her, he pinched her clit, then rotated it between his forefinger and thumb. Delilah was so responsive, so honest in her pleasure. He loved that; he fed off the way her body jerked, her cries growing sharper. She tugged, pulled, damn near ripped his hair out, and he loved every second. The feel of her nails digging into the skin of his back, the sting of the welts she left behind were like trophies, proof positive of a job well done. It turned him on more than he thought possible.
Glorious, he thought as he finally rose. Most of the heavy makeup had been sweated off. Her face glowed in the aftermath of deep satisfaction; eyes at half mast, lips swollen, she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. His chest expanded knowing he’d done this to her. And he wanted to do it again—over and over until she couldn’t remember her own name. Getting to his knees, he lifted her hips, slamming inside her to the hilt. She was so unbelievably snug, clamping down around him so tight he thought he would lose it right then. He waited a moment, willing the tightness in his balls away before starting to move in a measured glide in and out. Watching the myriad of expressions cross her face was priceless.
It was good, so damn good.
With a certainty he would’ve called foolish from anyone else, Edward knew this wasn’t something Delilah did at “work.” Whatever went on here, she wasn’t a part of the seedier side of things. It wasn’t just that she fit so tightly around him, though Lord knows she exquisitely did so. It wasn’t that her reactions were so honest, so open. It wasn’t even the way she looked at him as if he was the only man in the universe. There was something else he couldn’t name, a feeling deep down that reassured Edward no matter what she did for a living, no matter what road she’d walked that led her here, she was pure at heart. She’d been wounded, but not broken. More than anything, she was his.
The coming together of their bodies was deeper than physical. It
was more than sex, not as simple or innocent as making love. They moved together in perfect unison.
Perfect rhythm, giving and receiving, a welcome home of sorts. He wanted it to last forever, wanted to stay buried deep inside her. But her pussy was milking him, vibrating against the too-sensitive flesh of his cock. He thrust faster and faster, unable to help himself, unable to resist her pleas for more, deeper, harder. It wasn’t nearly enough, he had hardly scratched the surface of his growing need for her, but his balls had drawn up impossibly tight. He was going to come; there was no way to stop it. All he could do was make damn sure she came with him.
He angled his torso away from hers reluctantly, though he kept their sexes firmly attached. Reaching down between them, he pinched her clit as he powered into her. The cries from her lisp fueled his own passion. It was music more melodious than anything she had danced to before. Slowly the cries increased in volume and depth until his own hoarse cry mingled with her scream of sublime satisfaction. He felt the rush of release from the tip of his toes, washing through his entire body. Wave after wave surged through him until he was empty, his essence hers now, completely.
