●Gem●
"Lisa… hey." I hurried after the girl through the crowded floor, weaving past bodies and flashing lights until she turned toward me.
"He's in the exclusive VVIP lounge, room 100." She gave a quick glance before slipping back toward the stage, disappearing into the crowd.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Fuck! I muttered under my breath. Tony had ratted me out. Even after the warning… My chest tightened. I just hoped Harry wouldn't follow through with the punishment.
Finally, I reached the door to room 100. I knocked lightly, then pushed it open.
He was there. The man who had been watching me from the VVIP section. Even under the red glow of the room, his presence made my chest tighten. His black hair was carelessly styled, fringes falling over his forehead, giving him that effortless, dangerous charm. He had dark eyes and sharp gorgeous features, and a lean, masculine body that somehow radiated control without trying. He was seated in the plush chair, his hands resting casually on the arms.
I moved toward the mini bar, pouring a drink into a glass, slipping the pill I had secretly removed into it. My fingers brushed the rim of the glass as I balanced it, feeling a thrill of danger. Seductively, I walked over to him, my heels clicking softly on the polished floor, my hips swaying.
He smirked as I handed him the drink. His eyes scanning me from head to toe. Without a word, he placed the glass on the table and stood, his height making him loom over me even though I was in heels. Goosebumps rose on my half-naked body as his hand curled around my waist. He leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat from his chest, angling his head as if to kiss me, but instead he whispered against my ear, "I want to experience just how skillful you are with lapdancing."
He released me, stepping back, settling comfortably into the couch. I watched as his hand lifted toward the glass again, expecting him to drink. But at the last second, he set it back on the table. Shit!
****
I squared my shoulders, letting a sly smile play on my lips. "Let's see how much fun we can have."
I walked toward him, my hips swaying deliberately, each step measured to draw his attention completely. The dim light hit my skin just right, glinting off the shimmer of my costume. I circled the chair slowly, letting my fingers brush the backrest as I leaned forward, just enough for him to feel my presence. His dark eyes followed every curve of my body, and I could feel the weight of his gaze like a warm pressure.
I straddled his thighs carefully, maintaining eye contact. My movements were slow, and teasing. His hands hovered near me, uncertain, until finally, one rested on my hip. The warmth of his fingers made my breath hitch, sending a ripple of heat through me. His touch lingered, brushing against me in ways that made my body respond with a hum.
I moved with the music, grinding just enough to let him feel the rhythm without giving him all of me. Every shift of my hips, every lean of my torso, was designed to entice, to tease. His fingers traveled slowly along my side, over the curve of my waist, and I felt the sparks of arousal flare beneath my skin. My heart spiked, a hot pulse behind my chest, but I kept moving.
A shiver ran down my spine as his hand slid just a little lower, grazing the edge of my costume. I caught my breath, letting it escape in a soft sigh, the heat spreading across my body like wildfire. I could feel myself growing wet with anticipation, every nerve alive, every muscle aware, but I didn't stop. I let the tension build, letting the music and his touch coalesce into a dangerous, heady mix of lust and control.
He leaned back slightly, letting me take the space, and I took it, arching my back, rolling my hips, letting my hair fall forward, brushing against his black dress shirt. My fingers slid along his forearm, feeling the strength beneath his skin, and it made me ache in ways I hadn't expected. The sensation was almost too much, but I held my composure, letting him taste the tease without giving him the full bite.
By the time the song ended, I was trembling, my body alive with fire. My control had been tested, stretched almost to the limit, but I had survived, still the queen of this room. I let my gaze meet his, as I heard him say, "Not bad for a warm-up, don't you think?"
"Warm up?" The question slipped from my lips in a whisper.
I had done lap dances before, plenty of them, but they usually ended with the other person unconscious. I hated it when hands reached for me, when they thought payment gave them ownership. But his touch was different. It burned. It woke every nerve in my body, left my senses stretched tight and exposed.
Maybe it was because he was young. Maybe because he was dangerously attractive.
"Of course, you didn't think I was going to pay thousands of dollars for a two-minute dance now, did you?"
He cocked that damn brow, studying me like he had all the time in the world.
If only he would just take the drink and finish it.
My fingers curled slightly at my sides.
Even with my nerves jumping all over the place, I moved back against him as the next song started, the bass sinking deep into my chest.
I let my hips roll first, lowering myself onto his lap like I had done a hundred times before. Only this time felt different. His palm settled on my bare flat stomach. His hands were setting my body on fire. He slid them upward, tracing the line of my ribs with agonizing slowness. Every inch of skin he touched felt like it was catching fire. My breath hitched, my head falling back as his thumbs grazed the undersides of my breasts.
He moved with me, mirroring the undulation of my hips. When I arched away, he followed, his hand moving to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair just enough to tilt my head back further.
The friction of his slacks against my bare legs and the way his fingertips danced along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs made my toes curl. I felt a traitorous warmth blooming in my chest, a physical reaction I couldn't suppress no matter how much I feared him. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, a sensory overload that threatened to pull me under.
When his fingers pressed into my thigh again, firmer this time, I broke.
I pushed up and away from him, standing a few steps back, my chest rising too fast as I steadied myself.
"If you want me to continue stop touching me" I said quietly, meeting his eyes.
I watched him as he got up to his full glory. He was in a black designer dress shirt, his black coat draped on the chair and my eyes landed on the expensive Rolex on his wrist before dragging my gaze back to his beautiful face.
I stayed rooted in place, watching as he lifted his hand and tucked an unruly strand of my hair behind my ear. His touch lingered, a ghost of the heat from moments ago, before he pulled away and checked a vibrating message on his phone.
Putting the phone back into his pocket, he stepped closer and leaned close to my ear as he whispered:
"I will be here at the same time tomorrow. I expect an amazing performance." He pulled away, his eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying clarity.
"And by the way, don't ever try to drug me. I don't fuck unwilling women."
He pressed the bills into my palm, folding my fingers over them with a lingering pressure that felt like a brand.
"Have a good night, Catherine."
He walked away, leaving me standing in the center of the room. He hadn't used my stage name. He had used the name I thought everyone had forgotten. My hands started to shake. He knew. He knew that I had tried to drug him and if he told Harry... I was a dead woman walking.