Devil's Dance Floor Novels & Stories

How dare they let their voice reach outside the room? “You both have guts to talk sh*t behind my back, hm?” he coldly said, ignoring the shock as if a dirt in their faces. He smiled, not reaching his eyes, a warning to their inappropriate display in a sacred golden room, “You're ignorance to even secured the place for damn talk-shit is what's make you both a powerless. Bare in mind, you're not the devil here, it's me!” He looked at the young man, a very man of Denever who immediately recover from shock.

I can't place where exactly. Vincent Halstead, the Devil of Deals. Was that the same man I met? This elusive Devil just handed me a kitten? “I don't know, what if it's not him?” “There's only one way to find out,” Seraphina sighs. “What do you think though? Did he have the devilish aura?” “Oh he had more than the aura. He looked like he stepped out of hell or something—” The door opens and Charles walks in. “Sera, I'll call you back.”

Intoxication of power and wealth, enough to drive a poverty-stricken man crazy. Lights are red, too. Switching from bright to dim to flickering. No one talked, cos it's the favorite time of the leader of the club. It's time for the dance of the Delilahs Of Valhalla—Girls who signed up for money in their early lives. Young, Slim Girls. The fog on top of the pool rose higher, thickening madly. The Delilahs appeared in the middle of the pool, water reaching their ankles as they stood with dripping hair and unclad bodies.

She allowed her to drag her deeper into the crowd and started dancing. Unbeknownst to them, Damon stood just a floor above their heads in front of his black stained floor to ceiling window in his office. The window overlooked the entire dance floor, giving him a perfect view of every drunk customer dancing there but only one caught his full attention… his little flower. She looked gorgeous in her red latex dress and red converse heels. Her exposed curvaceous body made it hard for any normal man in the room to not react to her beauty.

“Then you will watch your kingdom burn from the inside. Every ally will turn, every soldier defect, every coin rot in your hand. Because I already own them. You are kings and queens only so long as I allow it.” For a long moment, silence reigned. Dante’s fists clenched, his fury palpable. But before he could speak, Amara leaned forward, her gaze locked on the Devil’s. “And what do you gain by offering us mercy?” she asked. His eyes gleamed. “Entertainment. Even devils like their games.” --- The Private Dance Later, when the music shifted to something slower, Il Diavolo extended his hand toward Amara. “Dance with me,” he said.

His heart ached into a tight knot and gave him panic attacks. Background music " Love me like you do" started playing at that moment. The host invited everyone to join in couple dance excitedly. Something formed in his heart after Herman's words. Blake put down the glass and started walking towards Veronica. Without hearing her opinion, he dragged her on the dance floor and asked demandingly, " Let's dance okay?" Veronica rolled her eyes before replied, " You just scared me. I thought that something had happened. Blake, you could have just asked me."

I don't know what's worse-the fear of seeing him again or the fear of what I'll feel when I do. When the door finally opens, my body betrays me again. My pulse spikes, my breath hitches, my skin prickles with heat. It's him. Dante steps inside, suit crisp, dark hair swept back, eyes gleaming like the devil himself. He doesn't even look at the mess on the rug. His gaze goes straight to me. "Good evening, doll." "Go to hell." His grin is slow, deliberate. "Still keeping me company, I see."

"Dance with me, Sorella! We can worry about our fucked up lives later!" Tori shouted in my ear, making me laugh out loud as I let her lead me to the middle of the dance floor where throngs of sweaty, dancing bodies were gathered and dancing to the upbeat song. I couldn't spot Vladmir or my Papa's men but I knew they were close. I could practically sense their disapproval at us not only being here but also refusing to stay in the VIP area. The dancefloor is where all the fun is...not some stuffy, secluded area. That's not really freeing or fun...

In a skip, she began twerking faster than she had ever done – her watery ass dropping and slapping against each other. She got down on the floor as though she was fucking it and slapped her ass against the floor – twerking in that position. Dashiell had forgotten his food by now. And was already pulling down his trousers. “Keep it on. I want to give you a lap dance. And he obeyed.

“No one missed it.” Vito gave a single nod and walked inside. The large open space was packed with his security team… over fifty men standing in neat rows, all of them tense and silent. They knew why they were here. Word about the two attackers slipping into the club last night had spread fast. Vito stopped in front of them, hands behind his back, eyes scanning every face. “You all know the drill,” he said, voice low but carrying through the entire warehouse. “Drop down. One thousand push-ups. Now.”