Page 63 of Duty

Andino pushed away from the stage, and grabbed one of the chairs resting against a table. He swung it around, and set it in front of the stage before he dropped his body into the seat. Folding his arms over his broad chest, he stared at her.

And waited.

“Dance,” he said.

She only had one question.

“With clothes on, or—”

“Definitely clothes off. Or you can strip while you dance. I’m not fucking picky.”

Jesus Christ.

His voice was enough to make her wet.

“You got it,” Haven said, turning to move for the pole again.

She was quick to kick off those ballet flats, and then shrug off the tight, dark-wash skinny jeans, too. There was nothing sexy about trying to strip jeans off—it didn’t matter how good a girl could move. She was just bending over to throw the pants aside when Andino made a dark noise under his breath.

Sexy.

Thick.

Harsh.

“Christ, you’ve got a beautiful ass.”

Haven grabbed the pole, and tossed him a simpering smile over her shoulder. “I know.”

The crop top Haven wore fluttered around her chest as she did a slow spin around the pole using her hands to keep her steady while her feet lifted from the floor. In nothing but a thong—and a small lace bralette under the crop top—her body was mostly on display as she did a dance that was familiar, and fun for her. A few tricks on the pole, her ass high in the air, and her hips rocking to a soundless beat when her feet were back on the floor.

She did have to remind herself to strip the remaining clothing items from her body when she had a chance to do so, and while she wasn’t doing a trick on the pole just because she was so used to remaining in one of her leather get ups when she danced.

It was only when Haven was naked in nothing but her skin, and on all fours down to the floor with her back curved inward, and her ass arched high that she felt him touch her. She hadn’t even realized Andino had moved from his chair—he’d never said a word.

That warm palm of his cupped the curve of her ass, and slid lower to the back of her thigh. She sighed when his hand grabbed tight to her leg, and then his other one grasped tightly to the other side, too. She barely had time to catch herself when he pulled her back.

“No more,” she heard him say in a husky grunt that whispered along her exposed skin. “My turn, now.”

She felt his breath first—washing across her backside, and then along her slit.

“This pussy,” Andino groaned, his nose skimming the inside of her thigh. “This fucking pussy of yours drives me crazy, donna. Every fucking day—I’m thinking about it. I want to fucking eat it, and fuck it. All the goddamn time.”

His thumb had slid down her ass, and she felt him press the digit into her wet slit. Slow at first, pushing a bit to stretch her open as it slid inside her cunt. He used that thumb of his to massage along her inner walls in just the right spot to make her shake.

“Oh, my God.”

“So fucking wet,” he muttered. “And hot, too. Christ, is it dancing that gets you wet, or dancing for me, baby?”

“You.”

Definitely dancing for him.

Anyone else, and it was a job.

It was something else right then.

“I want a taste, girl,” Andino said.