“Fuck Me, Stranger.”

Chapter Two

Safira

About an hour ago, I was drowning myself in bottles of wine and shots, hoping to get the haunting memories off my head, pleading that Silas’s words would stop tormenting me, but nothing worked.

Now, in this man’s arms, all I could think and feel was excitement to get claimed by him.

I knew this was reckless. He was a stranger, someone I didn’t know. But the pull I felt towards him was undeniable, stronger than anything I had ever felt in my entire existence. And the way he looked at me… with a mix of hunger and admiration, like I was the most precious and irresistible thing he’d ever seen made me feel desirable in ways I never felt with Silas.

There was no bit of hesitation in his eyes, he looked down at me like one looks at their most favorite meal. He wanted me, and that realization sent a thrill through my entire body, crushing every form of hesitation I might have left. I was a woman starved of love, starved of affection and every form of touch, and this man looked like he could give me just that.

“Please… fuck me.” I begged, barely able to recognize my own voice.

He pulled back, his eyes piercing into mine with an intensity that only soaked my panties even more. “Oh, little one, I will. But you’ll have to earn every thrust I end up pushing inside you.”

“Ear…n?” My voice shook, my body engulfed by every sensation I had never felt before.

He pulled my hand out of his pants gently, settling back into the couch, taking the same posture he was in when I came in.

His gaze dragged over me slowly, then returned to my face. “Take it off.” He ordered.

The command and authority in his voice guided me, leaving me with nothing but compliance and utmost submission to the man in front of me. It felt like I was always his to direct.

I pulled the coat off slowly, giving him a show. If I was going to stand in for a professional stripper, I was ready to do more than a professional, to leave him with a memory he’d never forget.

I tossed the coat off, crossing my leg over the other, my hand on my waist, my back arching off to show the curve of my hips, the sudden confidence and shamelessness brimming through my skin. I had stood in front of the mirror multiple nights, trying to perfect my poses, to stand and walk in ways that was supposed to leave Silas wanting, but it never worked.

But with this stranger, everything was working, every of my move fueled his desire and I could see it in his eyes.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispered, “now get on that pole and show me why you were called the best.”

I turned around, my eyes catching the pole at the center of the room. I didn’t even know how to dance, I had never been on the dance floor, I had always taken the seat of the spectator whenever I went to the club with my friends, but I headed for the pole without hesitation.

I didn’t know the first thing about professional dancing, but I knew exactly what Silas had made me rehearse for over a year. I knew how to arch. I knew how to tempt. I knew how to twerk. I knew everything that could make a man go mad with lust.

I gripped the cold metal and instead of a dance, I gave him a show of pure lust. I bent my back until it ached, my spine curving in that perfect arch I had practiced for months. I slid down the pole slowly, my knees hitting the floor as I began to move my hips, bouncing my ass against the base of the pole in a filthy sultry move.

I turned around, watching as he was almost writhing on the sofa as I ran my hands up my own body. I grabbed my boob and gave it a gentle squeeze, a soft gasp escaped my lips and I saw his eyes widen, his cock straining hard against his pants.

I wanted that, so fucking much… but he had said I had to earn it and I was going to do whatever it takes to have in inside of me.

He could no longer hide his arousal, he brought his hand down between his legs, rubbing against his groin.

I turned my back to him, gripping the pole as I bent so low that I could tell he would see my drenched pussy through the lace. I took a hand off the pole, moving it through my inner thigh, up to the sizzling soreness in my pussy and I rubbed my finger through my slit.

A low, deep growl echoed through the room.

“Fucking hell!” He rasped, his voice filled with every bit of his arousal. “You’re such a little, needy slut.”

I wasn’t used to being spoken to in a dirty way, but hearing it from him send a thrill through me, making me want to please him more, to show him more of the little needy slut he had called me. I wanted to show him what this slut could do to him.

I moved my hand through my folds again, almost giving in to tempting sensation of shoving my fingers into myself, just to ease the ache in there. Instead, I turned around, my back against the pole, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes caught the bulge in his pants, bigger than the last, pushing against the zipper. I swallowed the hard knots in my throat and continued.

Gently, I took my finger into my mouth, tasting myself. The taste went straight to my head, causing my body to tremble slightly.

I slid down the pole again, cupping my sensitive boobs in my hand and fondling it, rubbing against the hard peak of my nipple.

Then his rough voice came at me. “Get over here.” He ordered.