Wet pussy against my bare skin.Heaven.
It feels too g-damn good. I crave her like no one I’ve ever had before, and it’s in the insatiable need that leads me to move my hands. I grip her hips a bit too tightly, the tips of my fingers biting into her flesh enough to leave tiny marks behind. Then… after silently praying for patience, I do the opposite.
I thrust my cock up inside her, smashing through her hole I was so desperately working to loosen, as not to hurt her. I’m too impatient, however, and it’s a moment I’ll never forgive myself for. I should’ve had enough sense to refrain and hold myself back from moving a single inch until she decided it was the right time and slowly, carefully slid her tight pussy down my length.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I growl as she winces and goes still. “I’m sorry, Raven, please forgive me. I’ll do anything for you, I swear it, anything. You are everything, and I’ve ruined the moment. I promise I won’t hurt you again, sweetheart.” I’m mumbling, rambling really. I’m ready to promise her the entire world if it means she won’t be angry with me and never see me again. I couldn’t bear the distance; I would break for her.
A tear trails down her cheek, but then something earth-shattering happens. She begins to move.
Up.
Down.
Right.
Left.
She’s shifting her body so her hips move around in a sort of circle. Without giving me a chance to process, she keeps it up, and her repetitive movements have me gasping, shooting a jolt of precum inside her. She shakes her head, her hands on my wide, muscular chest as she claims, “I want it. Bad. Now, give me more.”
I’m inside her.
My Raven.
Chapter Five
Raven
I can’t believe I did it.
Isleptwith him. No. Ifuckedhim.
It’s pretty much in the unspoken rule book of stripper code 101 not to have sex with the patrons. How could I be so careless? If anyone else saw us, they’d be expecting the same treatment from me. I’ll get the reputation in the club of beingthe stripper who fucks. Of being a ho. I’m so not a ho in real life, either.
We didn’t use a condom. However, it was the last thing on my mind in the moment. I was completely turned on and lost in the massive, gorgeous man. It’s hard to believe I had any coherent thoughts during the dance at all. It nearly happened the first time I was dancing for him too, before we were interrupted, and I should’ve taken it as a warning. Sure enough, the next time I danced for him, and put my hands on him…Icouldn’t stop. Nor did I want to. God, he felt unreal. So strong and intense.
I feltsafewith him.
I’ve never done anything like this before. I promised myself I never would. Yet, somehow, I found myself so turned on I couldn’t think of anything other than sticking the huge man’s cock inside me. Blame it on losing control in the heat of the moment because once I started, there was no stopping it.
I was dick-na-tized.I had to be.
I’d shamelessly rubbed my pussy and body all over that gorgeous hunk of man-beast. What was I expecting him to do? Not stick his dick inside me because there were people around? If anything, I took advantage of him. I was already planning on fucking him if he’d asked, whether he’d thrust his cock inside me fully at that moment or not. I’d have made it happen, maybe gone home with him that night, so I could ride him in his bed.
He’s a customer, one who was drinking and celebrating with friends. Of course he’d fuck me, given the option. I’d have fucked me too.
Powerhouse.His name floats through my mind on repeat. More so than I’d like on any day. I don’t need a distraction like him.
I’ve heard the other strippers talking about the flirty biker on more than one occasion. How he’s a catch. They claim he cares for them and is kind to all women.
Why does the thought of him doing anything for my co-workers fill me with so much irritation? Is it because I want him to treat me the way he does them? Like I’m the sweetest person he’s come across all day, and he has nothing better to do with his time other than listen to me complain about whatever problems I’m facing in the moment and then expect him to protect me from something?
Ugh, I’m not a woman needing his help. Nor his protection, and realistically, I’m sure he has better things to do. It’s ridiculous for me to expect him to care about me in any way other than a one-dance-stand, rather than a one-night-stand. He doesn’t even know me.
Although… he spoke to me.He signed.I haven’t met a man as gorgeous as he is who knows anything about ASL, let alone tries to use it with me. The guys I have come across have been tools, and I have no interest in their dipshit drama. This is the first time a man has swayed my attention, making me wish I could spend more time with him.
Growing up, ballet consumed my life, so I was always concentrating on being the best I could. It seemed that when I was younger, any potential male candidates I came across in the program ended up being gay. I suppose I can blame it on being in a smaller area where the boys who were interested in females were too busy playing football rather than spinning around and stretching alongside me in dance class. There was zero sexual chemistry between me and the other dancers, so guys and potential dates took a backseat in my life for the most part growing up.
Then my accident happened, and men were the furthest thing from my mind while I attempted to heal and learn to live all over again. Now, however, I can’t claim the same while working in a strip club. Men are literally everywhere, and I’m not sure any of them are the type I want to think twice about. Let alone fuck. Or attempt to have an intelligent conversation with.
