Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

I pulled away, fluttering my many layers of fake lashes at him, smiling so sweetly.

“Yes,” he said, looking me over, watching the motions of my lashes, how I sat there topless beside him. “Something nice and private. The club is too noisy and crowded to enjoy time with so beautiful a lady,” he remarked in that accent which was growing more alluring every moment he talked to me.

He stood up, and in such an old-fashioned, gentlemanly manner, he extended his hand to take mine and helped me up off the seat.

My bra and skirt were still draped over my wrist, and I couldn’t help but feel some excitement in my chest. Not just for the money, though that was clearly there as well. No, he had an aura to him that was drawing me in, making me forget all my cares and concerns as I took his hand.

He was so warm, and strong, and I found myself standing a bit nearer to him than needed. Even normally I gave my clients some space, but I simply wanted to feel him against me.

He obliged so nicely, keeping that strong hand of his upon my hip as he guided me over to the stairs. I worked that club most days each week, yet still I let him show me the way. I didn’t even need to do the usual fuss, since he owned the damn club franchise. He was let on through, but dispelling any concern

s of mine that it might leave him entitled and cheap, he pulled a roll from his own jacket of hundreds, and handed it to me.

“In case I get so caught up in your beauty later I forget to pay you,” he said smoothly, that broad, masculine face marked by such a handsome smile.

It surprised me, but I tried not to let it register on my face as I took the offered cash and tucked it into my purse. I was smitten, and I bit down on my lips as we went past the open booths and towards the highest point of the club. It was just above the DJ booth, away from the heavy bass of the speakers, and overlooked the stages. It was huge and well decorated with soft pillows and lighting, with couches along the back and side. A table was in the centre, glowing slightly, and a bottle of champagne awaited us.

I wondered if it was the real stuff, but tried not to look greedy as he pulled the curtain across and left us in relative comfort and privacy. The glass was mirrored on the outside, so none could see us, and I knew the only way anyone was coming in was if he invited them.

The bouncers checked on us all the time with clients to make sure we got up to no dirty business, but this wasn’t just any old client, after all.

He escorted me to the couch, helping me take a seat before he went to the champagne, took a look at the label then went about serving it all by himself. Most men left that sort of task to me, but not him. He was all class.

Pouring up some into that fluted glass, he handed it to me first before returning to serve his own up. It also gave me the opportunity to see part of a tattoo that ran from his arm up to his hand. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, or what significance it had by that little glimpse of its edge, however.

“How has working one of my clubs been for you?” he asked me, sounding warm despite the deep, dark tone of his masculine voice. More importantly, he seemed genuinely interested.

I leaned back, not bothered at all by my own toplessness or the fact that I was clearly sizing him up. I crossed my legs, the fishnets making them look more toned and shapely.

He joined me and I curled in towards him, wanting his warmth pressed against me. I couldn’t help it. He was probably ten or more years older than I was, with a lot more culture and class, and as I rested my hand on his chest, I could tell he was cut.

“It’s the best club I’ve worked at,” I said truthfully. The staff looked out for me, the money was good, what more did I need?

His thickly muscled arm went back around me as he got comfortable upon that sofa with me. He leaned in, slowly inhaling the scent of my hair as he let the ebon locks stroke his cheek.

“That is good,” he said in his accented voice, the words hard but said so warmly. He sipped the champagne with me, and I knew it was the real deal.

“Have you been working here long? Special women such as yourself are so hard to find, and worth holding onto,” he said.

I curled into him, sipping the champagne in one hand, the other stroking along his chest. He smelled so good and masculine, some scent I hadn’t words for. Spicy and seductive, kind of dark, if I were to try.

“Just the last few months.”

I looked at him, over his skin, caressing him with my gaze as I relaxed and pressed my almost nude body against him.

I normally felt so calm with my nudity, but he was making me squirm, my body growing heated against his.

We could hear the music of course, and see the shows going on below through the glass, but Luc’s attention was purely upon me. That’s what made things so complicated for me. Having such a masculine and clearly wealthy man so focussed upon me, taking such a keen interest.

“I hope you choose to stay, Ruby,” he said so genuinely. “It will give me such a great reason to come back again. Seeing you dance once more will make the trip out here very worth it.”

I was used to compliments from strangers. I was a stripper, damn it. Sometimes they hoped complimenting me would get them extras like a blowjob or a discount on dances, but it never did. Sometimes they were genuine, they truly meant it, and I’m ashamed to admit that almost never did those compliments affect me. There was a part of me that just didn’t accept it.

But something about the way Luc said it, the way his eyes stayed locked on mine, did more than make me believe it. It took my breath away.

I bit in my lower lip to try to hide how deeply his words affected me, but it was impossible to fully disguise it.

My hand dipped down along his side to his hip as I watched him. My gaze was the first to flinch away, though, but his hand was on my jaw, guiding it back to him in a gentle but firm manner.