~~ Around 11pm at one of my clubs — Il Sogno —(Sinveer's POV)~~
The club pulses. Red light bathes the air like blood washing over glasses. The floor trembles with the bass under my feet. But nothing moves me. But not tonight. Not until I see her. Leaning against the bar like she owns it.
Her skin is like polished amber, dressed in that tight mini gown with the slit exposing those thighs like an invitation. Lips plump, begging for someone to slam her against a wall and ruin it, and eyes. God, those eyes. Staring at me not with fear or caution but with challenge. As if telling me I couldn't approach, or if I could, I should dare. A shiver, colder than the club's bass, brushes my skin, but I dismiss it as a mere anticipation. She is just another conquest, daring me to take what is mine. So I choose to. Which is a bad mistake.
I signal to my men to bring her. Which they try, but can't. They take a hesitant step, a flicker of confusion in their eyes at her unwavering gaze, before stopping.
The aura she exudes corrects their attempt. The moment I see that, I know I have to possess her. To fuck her. To fuck that fire.
With a flick of my wrist, my men melt into the shadows.
But Marek—my right-hand man—walks towards me, speaking in my ear.
"Boss, are you actually dismissing us? Don't you find her confidence suspicious?"
"That's why I need her tonight. She is a breed you don't find everyday. And what can she do?"
"But Boss, what if she's with a weapon?"
"Ha! Don't make me laugh. A weapon? Where will she be hiding it? Is it inside the hole I will be pounding tonight? Look at what she's wearing, there's no space to hide anything."
"Boss, I don't know why you're talking like this, but you're not acting like your usual careful self."
"Don't think too much tonight, man. I just want to unwind."
"I won't stop you, but I'll be watching."
"Do what makes you comfortable."
I stand, making my way toward her. Each step I take, her gaze stays locked on me—not fluttering, not flinching, just relaxed. When I reach the bar, I grab two black Amaro, and hand her one. She takes it, staring at me over the rim of the glass as she drinks. There's something about the sharp angle of her cheekbones, something almost… unfamiliar yet intriguing.
This one's feisty.
Getting closer to her, she looks like a foreigner—but not a foreigner at the same time. Red hair, blue eyes that pull you—that make you want to drown in them, in and a little too young.
"You kept watching me," I say, almost hovering over her.
"So did you. Is that not why you are here?" She replies.
Hmm. She's bold too.
"Then come upstairs with me, since I believe you are aware as to why I approach you. " I say.
She does. Lifting her frame from the bar edge. No hesitation.
Her heels click against the floor like a countdown. Her waist sways in ways that promise heaven. We step into a VIP room, welcomed by a spacious bed that's going to speak a language I understand tonight.
"Why don't you go over there, and strip for me. Spread those legs for me to see the divine you are created with. "
She walks to the bed but doesn't strip, doesn't sit. Just stands there, staring at me with an intensity I thought only men could possess.
"Why are you in a rush, sir?" She asks. " Why don't you sit for me, and let me do the work."
I chuckle, feeling intrigued by her boldness.
Other girls would be sitting now, spreading their legs, while sliding their tongues like serpents. Which is boring.
"You think you can make me hard, little one?"
"Are you not hard already from just staring at me? And also, I'm actually good at what I do."
I smirk at that because it's true. My cock's hard. And it has been throbbing in demand for a while now. "I guess you know your stuff. Then why don't you come over here," I say, sitting on a chair a few meters away from the bed.
She glides toward me, her steps slow and measured. She drops to her knees, stripping me bare like she's unwrapping some particularly sinful gift. Her fingers trail across my skin, sending jolts of electricity through my veins, caressing my thighs, heading for my cock at her own pace. Her eyes never leave mine. My cock twitches, greeting its seducer. It's torturer.
"Sir, you are quite big," she says in a French accent that has been bothering my head, and making my cock grow harder.
"Can you not take it?" I ask in a low voice.
"I could try," she replies.
"Then go on, little one."
My sanity's slipping from the wait. My patience is wearing thin. She moves closer, takes my dick in her tiny hands, smiling at it.
"Ohhhh shit," I moan, sucking my teeth. Tilting my head backwards, feeling her soft palms as they stroke gently.
It's been so long since I had sex, this is good— different in its own way.
Suddenly, I feel her tongue on my dick.