Her tits pushed against the corset of her dress. Chapel would rip into me for calling them “tits.” Breasts, he had told me. Dapper Dan, one must never sound like an uneducated, classless heathen. Even if the shoe fits.
But right now, with the heat from the kill and the need to slaughter the whore who touched me, I was a fucking heathen. And I was staring at Dolly’s tits.
Red flushed over her pale skin and crawled like wildfire up her neck and to her cheeks. Dolly rocked from side to side, her tight thighs trying to stave off the pressure; I knew my stare was feeding her pussy.
She bit her lip. Her hands fell to her sides, and her fingers began to creep up the hem of her dress. I watched those fingers, gripping my cane with increasing force.
Then, “Dance.”
Dolly’s eyes snapped to mine as I stared at her through unyielding, commanding eyes.
I didn’t move a muscle as Dolly asked, “What?”
My eyes flicked to the stage, then back to her. “Dance.”
Dolly’s eyes grew hooded then wandered to the black stage lit by a flood of red light. The silver pole shone in the glow. The music filled the room with a heavy beat, so loud one could feel it through one’s chest.
“I always dance for you, Rabbit.” She turned back to me, a teasing smirk building on her pink lips. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew she was the snake tamer, rousing my cock with her innocent act.
“Not like that,” I said, stroking my thimble over the back of the hand resting on my cane. I leaned forward. “Like the whores out there.” Dolly sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed some more. I tipped my head to the side, keeping her locked in my stare. “I saw you watching them, darlin’. I saw you wanting to climb on that stage. I saw you wanting to grind around the pole, coveting the attention they got, performing naked.” I smirked. “I saw you wanting to strip for me.” My eyes darkened. “Only me . . . And you want to dance. You want to use the adrenaline from tonight’s kills to dance.” I sat back, hands still resting on my cane. “I know you want to tease, then fuck away your pent-up energy. The victory of ridding the world of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
Dolly was breathless, her cheeks bright red. I raised an eyebrow and casually flicked my finger. “So dance . . . and this isn’t a request,” I emphasized, knowing she knew what I would say next. Dropping all niceties, I adopted the dark tone I knew she would obey. “I am insisting.”
Dolly exhaled, her body moving to the stage, honoring my command. My puppet, on my string.
Teeth clenched, I watched her as she climbed the stairs leading to the stage. My cock throbbed as she walked to the center and stroked the metal pole. Her blue dress was soaked through, ripped and stained with blood. Her blond hair was a mass of curls, wild, as if I’d just taken her up against the wall, ruining my perfect little dolly. Her eyes were rimmed with black, and her lips were pink-stained from her lipstick. Her socks were bloodstained but intact, the black and white stripes like a ladder, leading me to the spot where we both wanted me to go.
A new song drifted through the speakers, a deep bass shaking the walls of the room. The singer sang of a woman turning him into a savage. The song was apt. Around my little Dolly darlin’, I fucking lost my mind.
What little sanity remained.
I sat back, tried to relax, but that was shot to hell as Dolly began to move. Her hips swayed as she gripped the pole. Her gaze locked on mine as her fingers danced up and down the metal. They were slow and seductive. I knew how they felt tracking up and down my dick. She knew that too. Smiling, she stroked the pole like she stroked me.
“Faster,” I ordered, knowing she could hear me just fine over the music. Dolly walked around the pole until she stood with her back to it, facing me. She rocked against it, eyes closing as her ass hit the hard metal. She reached above her, holding the pole above her head. Then she began to descend, dropping slowly down the pole. Her thighs were squeezed together, until she reached the bottom, where they opened. Slowly.
Painfully . . . fucking . . . slowly.
I growled under my breath when her milky thighs spread to reveal her “knickers.” Dolly’s back arched, then she released one hand from the pole and stroked it up her thigh until she reached the edge of her knickers. My breath held in my throat and I stilled, motionless, as she pushed the white fabric aside . . . and her blond pussy came into view.