SELVAGGIA

Scarlet POV

I looked at myself once more in the mirror, trying to act calm but honestly, I was anything but. This was my job—among many, of course. A girl has to survive. I’d danced for plenty of dangerous men in this shitty club, both private and on the main stage, but I’d never been summoned by the most dangerous of them all.

Lucien Romano.

Everyone knew Lucien. Drop-dead gorgeous in that cruel, carved-from-marble way that made your knees weak even while your survival instincts screamed “run”. He was the kind of man you fantasized about in the dark but sprinted away from the second his eyes landed on you in real life. Ruthless. Heartless. The devil in a tailored suit. And tonight, I was supposed to perform for him.

A mix of dread and something far more dangerous curled low in my belly. Fear, yes. But also… excitement.

I could still see the envy burning in the other girls’ eyes when Madam Celine pulled me aside two hours ago. This wasn’t just another dance. This was Lucien Romano. And the money attached to his name was enough to make even the most jaded stripper weak.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet already, girl,” Juliette said, sliding up behind me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She stared at my reflection with a wicked grin. “Damn, you look lethal.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I smirked, tossing my long dark hair over my shoulder with dramatic flair. She laughed.

“Who’s getting cold feet? Me?” I scoffed. “Come on, you know I fear no man.”

“I know, I know. Now go show Lucien what that body can do. Make him forget his own name.” She gave my ass a playful smack. “Go make Mama proud.”

My outfit—if you could even call it that—was pure sin. A tiny black mesh babydoll that barely covered my ass, completely see-through, with thin straps that looked ready to snap at the slightest movement. Underneath, a blood-red thong that disappeared between my cheeks and a matching strappy bralette that pushed my full breasts up like an offering. My nipples were already visible through the sheer fabric. Six-inch black stilettos and thigh-high stockings with delicate lace tops completed the look. Every step made the little bells on my ankle straps chime softly. I looked expensive, filthy, and completely fuckable. Exactly what men like Lucien paid for.

I did one last spin in front of the mirror, the mesh whispering against my skin, then blew Juliette a kiss and headed out.

The walk to the private room felt longer than usual. My heart hammered against my ribs. I was a few minutes late, I hoped he wouldn’t complain. When I reached the door, I paused, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Here goes nothing.”

I knocked once and pushed the door open.

The room was bathed in deep red lighting, dark and intimate. A single brighter red spotlight glowed on the polished pole in the center. At the far end, lounging in a black leather chair like a king on his throne, sat Lucien Romano.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.

Even in the low light, I could feel the weight of his gaze dragging over my body like a physical touch. Chills raced down my spine. My thighs pressed together instinctively as heat flooded between my legs. What the hell? I’d danced for hundreds of men. None of them had ever affected me like this. Not even close.

I walked toward the pole slowly, hips swaying, heels clicking. Every step was deliberate, sensual. When I reached the pole, I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal and let my body melt into the first move, arching my back, pushing my ass out as I circled it once, teasing.

Lucien’s presence filled the room like smoke. Heavy. Dangerous. Addictive.

I started slow, rolling my hips to the low, throbbing bass coming through the speakers. My hands slid up my body, cupping my breasts through the mesh, pinching my already hard nipples until I gasped softly. I spun around the pole, then climbed, legs wrapping tight as I inverted, thighs spread, giving him a full view of my barely-covered pussy. The mesh babydoll rode up, exposing the bottom curve of my ass.

When I slid back down, I turned my back to him, bent over slowly, and rolled my hips in a deep, filthy grind. My hands hooked into the straps of the babydoll. With a sultry look over my shoulder, I let it fall, the sheer fabric whispering down my body until it pooled at my feet. Now only the red thong and bralette remained.

I was already soaked. Embarrassingly so. My pussy throbbed with every heartbeat, aching in a way I’d never experienced just from being watched. No touching. No words. Just his dark, unreadable eyes devouring me from the shadows.

I dropped into a squat, knees wide, then rose again, dragging my hands up my thighs. My fingers teased the edge of my thong before I hooked my thumbs in and peeled it down inch by torturous inch, bending over fully so he could see everything. The cool air hit my wet folds and I shivered.

Completely naked now except for the bralette and heels, I climbed the pole again. My body glistened with a light sheen of sweat as I twisted and spun, legs extended in a perfect split, then folding into a sensual cradle. Every movement was for him. I wanted him to see how flexible I was. How wet I was getting. How badly my body was reacting.

I slid down until my feet touched the floor, then pressed my back against the pole and slowly sank into a split on the ground. My pussy was open, glistening under the red light. I was dripping. I could feel my juices coating my inner thighs.

My eyes locked on his silhouette.

I raised my right leg high up the pole, balancing on my left, my pussy completely exposed. Keeping my gaze on him, I brought my middle finger to my mouth, sucking it slowly, wetting it with my tongue. Then I lowered it between my legs.

The moment my slick finger touched my swollen clit, I gasped sharply. Pleasure shot through me like electricity. I rubbed tight circles, biting my lip, never breaking eye contact. My hips rolled against my hand as I traced my slit, coating my fingers in my creamy arousal, then spread my pussy lips for him, showing him how pink and needy I was.

Two fingers pushed inside me easily. I moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. I started thrusting them in and out, curling them against that sweet spot while my thumb rubbed my clit. My head fell back against the pole, breasts heaving, nipples tight. The wet sounds of my fingers fucking my pussy filled the space between us.

I’d never been this turned on in my life. Not from any client. Not from any man. It was him. His silence. His power. The way he watched me like he already owned me.

My orgasm crashed into me without warning. My walls clenched hard around my fingers as I cried out, a sharp, broken sound. I bit my lip to muffle it, thighs shaking violently. I gripped the pole for dear life as waves of pleasure rolled through me, my juices dripping down my hand.

I was still trembling, fingers buried deep inside my spasming pussy, when his deep, velvety voice cut through the haze like a command

from the devil himself.

“Did I say you can cum, Selvaggia?”