Controlled Burn (Blackbridge Security 8)

I haven’t seen the back of her, but telling from the thin straps at her hips, there’s not much to the bottom part of her wardrobe. For sanity’s sake, I pray she doesn’t turn around. I’ve been staring at her gorgeous ass for a while in athletic clothing, seeing it mostly bare with a tiny strip of fabric disappearing between her cheeks would probably be my undoing.

I open my mouth to speak, having no damn clue what I could say right now, but she shakes her head, pressing her finger to her lips.

Then she begins to move. First, it’s just a roll of her hips, but the momentum of it moves her trim torso and eventually her arms. Her knees brush against mine during her undulation, and she might as well have stroked my cock because that’s exactly where I feel it.

Maybe I’m an asshole for actually letting her go through with this dance. No, I’m definitely an asshole because I never considered stopping her, even before I walked through the front doors of The Kitten’s Cream.

She smells of sweet flowers when she leans in, placing her hands on the back of the chair, and I suddenly realize why there’s a no licking rule. Her ample breasts are mere inches from my mouth, and it waters for a taste of her.

I manage to tilt my head back, looking up into her stunning face—an effort to keep my sanity—and I find her eyes closed, mouth whispering the words to the song as if she’s picturing herself being anywhere else but here. Shame slams into me. This was the wrong way to go, and it doesn’t even matter what she did at my place of work, this is different.

I’ve never shied away from explaining what I do for a living. Maybe she did because she’s embarrassed. Maybe she was afraid I’d judge her.

I frown deeper. It’s not that I’m mad about her dancing. I’m a little agitated at her dancing for others. It speaks of a possession I have no right to, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling it.

My fingers jerk to help her when she stands on some part of the underside of the chair in an effort to get closer. I should stop this, but my brain is not the one in control right now. My body craves her, firing off shots of arousal with every brush, and despite agreeing not to thrust against her, my hips jolt unbidden when she settles a little on me.

“Ah fuck,” I mutter, sweat beading at my temples as I try to stay in control.

It’s then that she looks down at me, her body moving against mine, her lips only a few inches away.

I swallow, locking eyes with her because looking back down at her mouth would put an end to all of this very quickly.

My mouth drops open, gaining her attention, and my balls ache like they’ve never done before.

A slow smile spreads across her face as she drops another inch lower.

Maybe I’m imagining it, but it’s as if I can feel the heat of her core against my erection, and then all doubt fades away when she grinds, a whimper of pleasure escaping her lips.

I give her a slow smile as she drops down again, the apex of her thighs making maddening circles in just the right spot that threatens to make me embarrass myself.

“Damnit,” I mutter, my fingers aching from my grip on the arms of the chair in an effort not to touch her.

Her body serpentines up and down mine over and over, her body brushing, her breasts swaying.

I’m hypnotized by it, enthralled at her skill level, desperate to feel us together skin on skin rather than being separated by so many layers of clothes.

She leans away, her arms reaching behind her, and I know what comes next. I know in seconds, the bra barely managing to keep her in will be gone.

“No,” I hiss, not wanting to see them for the first time this way.

It hits me that she’s doing this because it’s her job. I put her in this situation. She’s never gotten this close to me back at the condo or in the gym. I’m making her do something she wouldn’t normally do with me, and that makes the worst kind of guilt settle inside of me.

I stiffen when she pulls her hands away, bra still in place and places them on the back of the chair. I keep my eyes locked on hers, trying to read any level of hatred for me, but she keeps her eyes cast to the side.

When the song ends, she backs away and leaves the room.

I, of course, have to wait a few minutes, because even through my shame my cock stayed hard. But once it deflates, I’m out of there. She has several more hours until her shift is over, and I know I’ll pace my condo until she gets home. We’re going to have a long talk once she arrives, and I don’t know if that’s going to be with me apologizing or demanding she quit her job because I don’t want her doing with other men what she did for me tonight.