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"Fuck," he answers under his breath. "Daph—"
"Is that a yes?" There's no hesitation in my voice. No shyness. I know what I want, and I'm taking it.
"Yes," he breathes.
Perfect. But then, how the hell does this go?
A dancer walks into the room with a client in tow. She glances at us, but she doesn't protest. She shrugsdo your thing.
There are two other groups in the corner. A dancer and an older man. And a bachelor party. Three guys. Three dancers. All receiving lap dances in a row.
In my short, tight dress, with the low lights, I blend into the room.
I could be a stripper, and Jackson could be a customer.
A role play. I've tried it a few times, but I never got into it. Either the setting felt off or the partner did.
But this is all right.
And it's not just a role play. Right now, I'm a dancer, and he's my client, and he's paying in his own way.
I wait for the song to shift to the next, and I slide onto his lap. I cop Mercy's move. I settle onto his lap as I bring his hand to the strap of my dress.
"Help me with that." My voice drops to a tone I don't recognize. Somehow, it's demanding and submissive at the same time.
He hears it too. His pupils dilate. His lips part.
Jackson pushes one strap off my shoulder.
Then the other.
Slowly, he rolls my dress to my waist.
I'm on his lap, with my breasts on display to the entire room, playing a game to see who gives in first. This is the start of something dangerous. No, this is well past the start.
This is the middle of something dangerous. The thought sends a thrill through my veins.
My heart beats faster.
My breath hitches.
My body buzzes with need.
I bring my hands to his shoulders, and I use him for leverage as I rise onto my knees, bringing my chest inches from his mouth.
He looks up at me with all that need and attention and desire, but he doesn't break. He doesn't come close.
I lower and raise myself a few more times, then I settle onto his lap, and I look down at him as I roll slow circles over him.
He's hard, beneath me. I can feel him through my panties and his slacks. I want more of that. His hardness against my softness. My body yielding to his. The two of us joined together, in perfect harmony.
Or like this. In some other, even more dangerous game.
The friction sends pleasure through my body. My nipples ping. My sex clenches. For a moment, my eyes flutter closed. I try to contain all the bliss.
But that's not what I'm doing here.
I blink my eyes open and look at him. We agreed to a dance. That's the only rule.
