Three

MONICA.

Freezing in front of the client is something that Andy would consider a disgrace. In that regard, I have a clear track record.

Until now.

I’m completely petrified on the man’s lap. I can feel the tip of his cock rubbing against my ass, and it feels… good. I don’t know why the hell it feels good, because right now I should be disgusted. But I’m not.

In fact, I can feel my pussy getting wet.

This hasn’t happened before. Not with any client, not with any man I’ve dated. Sure, I can chalk this up to the fact that I haven’t had sex in a very long time due to not being in a relationship, but this is just bizarre.

What is this man doing to me?

“Sir,” I manage to croak. My face heats up just feeling how big and girthy he is under there. “Sir, I need to—”

He cups my chin and makes me look at him. The rest of my words peter out into a gasp when I see his face up close.

He’s… handsome. Too handsome, in a way. Almost painfully angelic. His lips are well-shaped, his nose straight, and his hair as black as the shadows in the room, wavy with some locks hanging on his forehead.  His deep-set eyes are gray, so pale that they almost lose their color in the lights. His gaze is surprisingly soft, like he can recognize how fragile I am right now and he knows he shouldn’t break me.

But the smirk on his lips tells a different story.

His teeth are perfect, like a celebrity’s, but his incisors are pointed. Maybe even sharp. It makes him look devious, as though he’s thinking of devouring me whole.

“’Sir’,” he quotes me, his voice deep and smooth with just a bit of grit that makes it reverberate through his chest. “Are you going to call me that for the rest of the night?”

I don’t know what to say. My breath is pushed out of my lungs and my heart is beating so fast I can’t even feel it anymore. He squeezes my waist, letting his hands trail down to my bare ass and kneading it. I feel his cock jumping right under me.

Fuck. Why am I thinking of bending over and letting him fuck me? Just because he’s handsome?

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the haze that semes to be hanging in the air around him. At last, I find my voice again.

“I was told that I’m here to dance for you,” I whisper. I don’t sound like my normal confident flirty self around clients. I sound like a scared little virgin. “I should… I should start doing that.”

I start to get up, but the man pulls me back down on him.

“I’m done watching you dance. I’m here to feel you.”

Roughness marks his movements now. My body slams right onto him, but now with my back turned to him. I can’t see his face. I try to get up again but he places his hand around my neck and forces me to stay.

Blood rushes in my ears. There’s a panic button in this room for emergencies, but the man doesn’t give me any chance to even try to spot it.

He parts my legs with his knees, forcing me to arch my back against his chest to find balance. His other hand finds its way to my tits. To my utter shock, he starts to take off the tassels and play with my nipples.

Pleasure darts through my body. His fingers are warm, surprisingly gentle, moving in circles around my nipples just the way I like.

I can feel his cock throbbing against me, and for some reason, my pussy just gushes. I can feel it soaking through my thong.

My eyes flutter close. I can’t believe that I’m letting a client touch me like this, and my body is responding to it by getting wetter than ever.

“Sir,” I pant, and I’m not sure if I’m trying to beg him to stop or keep doing what he wants to do.

He laughs against my ear, and the sensation travels all the way down to my groin.

A moan escapes my lips.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. His between my thighs, playing with the waistband of my thong. “You’re making me want to fuck you right here. But I can’t do that yet, can I?”

It’s a challenge, the way he said that. He twirls the string of my thong around his finger, and to my utter shock, he snaps it like it’s nothing. My thong slides down to the floor, leaving me bare for him to see.

Bare for him to explore.

This time, I squirm.

But I freeze all the same when I feel his fingers tracing my mound.

“I was watching you,” he whispers, letting his fingers travel down further until he reaches the top of my slit. “And I knew I just had to get you in here. Alone. Without all those fuckers watching.”

My gulping is audible. I look down between my thighs and see that my pussy is glistening, ready to be fucked.

Something takes over me and I try to reach down, wanting to rub it myself and reach my peak.

But the man smacks my hand away.

“Don’t cheat now,” he croons, kissing the back of my neck and eliciting a whimper out of me. “I know I can’t fuck you. But there are no rules about making you come for me, right, baby?”

With that, he slips his fingers lower and finds my clit. A gasp bubbles out of my lips. The first contact makes me buck my hips, my entrance getting even wetter at the warmth of his touch. He keeps his other hand firmly on my neck, rubbing my clit in circles until all I can do is throw my head back in pure ecstasy.

I move with him, grinding my hips against his fingers as pleasure starts to build. My muscles tense as he squeezes my neck harder. But I don’t stop him. In fact, I angle my body so he can suck on my nipple. His mouth closes around it, adding another layer of pleasure. His mouth is warm and wet and eager, and I can’t help but think about it on my pussy as he circles my clit faster and faster.

The force of my orgasm hits me like a truck. A scream erupts from my lips. I collapse against him, feeling him let me ride my climax. The haze of it feels like it’s going to stay.

But I’m wrong.

As I drape one arm over his shoulders, watching him lick my juices off his fingers, I notice something strange that even the lights can’t hide.

A stain on his shirt sleeve.

Blood. Fresh blood.