He frowns, uncertain, a furrow between his eyes. It makes him look younger than his scruff and his swagger and his size would indicate. Not like he feels sorry for me, though. Instead he looks like I’m a puzzle. Something to figure out.
The VIP room is really a miniature of the Grand. And his lap is my stage. His thighs are solid beneath my ass. I’m sitting, legs spread, arms at my side, chin up—totally open to him. It’s dark here, but designed so he can look at my body up close. Except he’s not looking at my body. He’s looking at my eyes, and it almost takes my breath away, the wildness I glimpse in his.
And I need to take this spotlight off me. “So what do you want, Kip? What do you like?”
Dark lashes hide his eyes. “I’d like your real name.”
“It’s not for sale.” And I’m still not sure why I wanted to tell him. It had almost slipped out. He’s like a truth serum to me, and that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
“Honey—”
“I’m here because you’re paying me,” I say, desperate to push him away. Desperate to hide. “Don’t forget that.”
He looks at me, and I watch his eyes harden. I can see the branches and brambles that he grows between us, feel the thorns where they push me out. He wants to dislike me. He wants to hate me. I don’t know why, but I recognize the cold, hollow feeling in my gut when he looks at me. And I brace myself.
“You want to know what I like?” His gaze roams leisurely over my body. Then he looks me in the eye. “I want to fuck you, Honey. That’s what I’d like.”
My eyes fall shut. What is that feeling inside me? Relief? Disgust? It feels almost like gratitude. He wants to fuck, like every other guy wants. He’s not here to expose my identity, not here to drag me back. He just wants to get his rocks off.
“That’s not for sale either. I’m here to dance, to shake my tits. To rub them against you. That’s it.”
His eyes narrow. He doesn’t like how crude I’m being. He knows it’s a weapon I’m wielding, but he’s not injured. He’s fighting back. Oh yes, there is something wild left in him. If he were in the jungle now, I’m not so sure he’d be the boy. He’s much more likely a panther. Dangerous. A predator. “Hands or mouth, your choice.”
“I said no.”
“These rooms aren’t just for dancing. I know that as well as you.”
Yes, these rooms are for more than dancing, but that doesn’t mean I do more. I don’t have to, especially if I don’t like the way the man treats me. That’s a rule Ivan has for us. A twisted form of protection. I start to leave, but his hand squeezes the back of my neck. I grow still.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says quietly.
Fear races through my veins. He’s already hurting me, by holding me here when I want to leave. “Then what do you call this?” I whisper.
“Keeping you. For a little while. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
God. He makes it sound so reasonable. But it’s not. I know it’s not. If it were any other man, I would have twisted away and run out of the booth. I would have been calling for Blue. We’re a long way from the man who told me about poetry and childhood dreams, but I can’t forget that he did. He’s the same man, light and dark, petal and thorn. “Let me go,” I say, my voice wavering, unsteady.
“Hands or mouth,” he repeats.
I close my eyes. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I don’t want to cry. It’s like waving a red flag at men like him. But the hands sliding down my body are surprisingly gentle. Over my abs and down to my…
“What are you doing?” I jerk away, but he’s got one hand on my hip.
His eyes are dark, knowing. “If you won’t decide, I will.”
“I’m not going to blow you,” I say, feeling small, like I’ve lost all control of the situation.
“I didn’t tell you to,” he says, one hand between my legs. The backs of his fingertips brush over my pussy. The thin strip of fabric over my pussy. “I want to fuck you with my fingers. I want to play with your clit until you come. Or maybe I’ll slide my tongue over your pussy until you’re crying loud enough for the whole club to hear, hmm? Your choice, Honey.”
All the air rushes out of me. I don’t know why it’s so shocking. A blowjob is way dirtier than what he’s asking for. But I’ve never had a man want to get me off. Typically they’d fumble around with my breasts, then come in my hands. I should tell him no again, like I did before. Blue would back me up. Ivan would protect me in this.
But there’s a part of me intrigued by what he’s offering. “Why?”
Amusement glints in his eyes. “The usual reasons.”
It’s so crazy I laugh, and my laugh sounds crazy too. “I’m not going to come, you know.”
He considers this as he turns his hand and cups my pussy. He isn’t waiting until we’ve negotiated a price. He isn’t waiting for permission. And I’m letting him. Oh God. He finds my clit with his thumb and gently circles.