Chapter Two

Ty leads me to the back of the club and up a small staircase, where a private, enclosed banquette is situated. From here, we can see the stage clearly and completely unobstructed. Further, no one can see us. He presses a button under the table and smoked glass walls rise up, encasing us in an even more private bubble. I guess he really does own the place.

"This is one-way glass," he explains. "For everyone out there, all they see is a mirror." He points to the button. "Just press this if you want to bring the walls back down."

I nod, relieved to know that I can exit any time I choose, and search the crowd for my friends, but I can't see them. Between the dim lighting and the number of people here, everything is sort of camouflaged and blurred, like nothing is quite real. Like an impressionist painting, of sorts. It feels as though everything is coated in a haze of smoke, almost, even though that's impossible.

The music winds around me, a dark, hypnotic beat, and I lean my head back against the cushioned seat, letting the magic of this place wash over me. No wonder it's so exclusive. Everything about it is too good to be true. I'm pressed right up against Ty, the heat of his thigh seeping into my leg. I can feel his powerful muscles, and even though I should get a grip and scoot over, I find myself shifting even closer to him.

"Watch," he commands in a low voice that makes me tingle. There's no way he could know I'm a sucker for an authoritative man, but it's a sexy coincidence. "Dialevia is our most gifted performer."

The lights dim even more and the music stops. Everything in the club goes still, even the writhing mass on the dance floor. The spotlight on the stage brightens and the music starts up again, a low, pulsing bass that I feel all throughout my body. It seems to be beating in time to the thud between my thighs, stoking my strange arousal even higher.

On the stage, a trapdoor opens and a golden pole with a ball on top rises up. Once it's settled into place, about eight feet tall, a woman slinks into the spotlight. I thought the SFX makeup on the other dancers was impressive, but hers is next level. Her skin glistens, covered in thousands of golden and orange scales. Long, flowing fins extend from her hips and shoulder blades, like the world's most glorious koi fish. Her long red hair cascades down her back and her face is one of the most stunning I've ever seen. Her makeup and effects are so well done that I can't even tell which parts are her and what's a prosthetic.

I'm straight and have never been especially attracted to women, but she's undeniably beautiful and something about the way she moves strikes me as erotic. She's dressed in only tassels that cover her nipples, leaving the rest of her full breasts bared, and a tiny G-string the same shade of gold as her scales. Moving sinuously, she wraps her lower leg around the pole and then suddenly swings herself forward, dangling upside-down and twirling, all while holding on with her ankle.

She defies physics.

She slithers up and down the pole like a snake, smooth and unhurried, perfectly in time to the music. There's nothing vulgar about her performance, but it's unbearably sexy, and I feel wet warmth gathering between my thighs in spite of myself. My breath comes faster and my heart pounds along with the beat. My nipples peak against my dress, but hopefully all the fringe camouflages that.

Ty's hand comes to rest on my leg, and without thinking, I drop my knees apart, an invitation if ever there was one. I'm suddenly desperate for him to touch me, and if he doesn't, I might take matters into my own hands. He glances at me, a question in his eyes, and I nod.

"Please," I say.

His mouth turns up in a wicked grin, and I stare at his hand on my leg. His sleeves are cuffed, revealing a strong forearm, a huge hand, and long, thick fingers with perfectly groomed nails. They're masculine hands, no doubt, and the sight of them somehow makes me even wetter.

Moving along with the beat and the dancer's own rhythm, his fingers slide up my skirt and dance across my panties, a light tease that makes my breath catch.

I'm encased in a bubble of darkness and bass beats and skilled fingers. My head falls back and my eyes close as he strokes me against the lace of my panties. The nub of the fabric creates a delicious friction on my clit.

"Open your eyes," he commands. "Watch the show."

"But—"

"Watch the show or I stop what I'm doing."

Heat surges through me at the command in his voice. Damn, how is he pushing my buttons so easily? And when is he really going to push my button ? I lick my lips and nod, forcing my gaze back to Dialevia and her sensuous performance.

"Good girl," Ty whispers in my ear, shoving my panties to the side. His fingertip swirls at my entrance, collecting the moisture there.

His tone sends more trembles down my spine, which he notices. With a dark chuckle, he slides that thick finger inside me and then back out again. He repeats the motion again and again, the movement slow and shallow. It's delicious, but not near enough to get me off.

And he knows it.

"You like it when I tell you what to do."

It's not phrased as a question, because he obviously knows, but I nod anyway. I squirm against the banquette, trying to force his finger deeper inside of me, and he laughs again. "So impatient," he whispers.

Without warning, he adds a second finger and picks up the pace, while also managing to land the pad of his thumb against my clit. I don't know how he's doing it—it must be murder on the wrist—but I also don't care. As long as he doesn't stop.

His mouth hovers near my ear, nipping at me and blowing warm breath down my neck. "Do you need to come?" he asks, and I whimper.

He turns his attention back to the stage, but moves his fingers faster and faster, making me pant. Right as the music reaches its crescendo—right as Dialevia executes some sort of complex flip into the splits—he flicks my clit and I come in a hot, wet rush, gasping and moaning.

Without even looking at me, he removes his fingers, straightens my panties, and then lifts his hand to his mouth licks his fingers clean.

Fucking hell.

The sight makes me groan. Even though I just came, I definitely feel like I could keep going. Everything in me is still pulsing and tingling, ready for more.

The stage lights dim as the dancer makes her exit, and with Dialevia's spell broken, the normal music resumes, the crowd filling the dance floor again.

"Dance with me," Ty says.

Again, he's not asking so much as demanding, and I fucking eat it up. I'm not sure I can move, much less dance. I think the orgasm he just gave me melted my bones. But I nod anyway, eager to have his hands on me again, however I can get them.

He pushes the button to lower the privacy glass, then takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. The music is still heavy on the bass, and he pulls me close. I crush my hips against his, delighted to find what appears to be a very generous hardness pushing back against me. I may be wet as hell for him, but he's not unaffected. He wants me too.

I'm generally not the type of person who hooks up with some stranger at a club—in fact, I've never done anything like this—but I can't seem to help myself. He's barely said ten words to me, but there's something incredibly magnetic about this man and I want more of him.

I want all of him.

I press closer, crushing my breasts into his hard chest. His hand lands on my ass and he cups it, keeping us aligned as we grind to the beat. His rhythm is perfect; there's no awkwardness to his movements at all. He's as smooth on the dance floor as anywhere.

Despite the delightful orgasm I just had, I'm fully primed again. I can feel more wetness pooling in my panties, and I think if we keep dancing like this, it might just be enough to get me off again. All I have to do is rub myself against him.

His eyes bore into mine and a slight grin plays across his lips, as if he knows exactly how turned on I am. Though, judging by the hard length in his pants, which I swear is getting even harder, we're both feeling it. Unfortunately, the stupid sound system chooses that moment to end the song. Ty steps back slightly and the distance brings me to my senses a little.

Shit, I can't just rub my crotch on some stranger on the dance floor, can I? No matter what we just did in his private booth?

Yeah, I should probably go find my friends before I do anything else embarrassing.

On an impulse, I push his mask up a little, further revealing his sharp jaw and firm lips. Before I can talk myself out of it, I press my mouth to his. Despite what we did in the booth, this feels, in a way, more daring and more intimate, especially since we're in full view of everyone. I slide my tongue along the seam of his lips and he parts them, participating but letting me take the lead. After an intense moment of tongue fucking, I break away, thank him for the dance, and sashay into the crowd, cheeks heating from my own boldness.

Yep, time to find the twins and get out of this guy's erotic orbit.

I only make it to the edge of the dance floor before a strong hand captures my wrist.

"You sure you wanna walk away?" he asks, his deep voice raspy and full of promise. My heartbeat kicks up another notch. He leans close to my ear. "I know what you want. I'll give it to you." He pushes against me, pressing his erection into my hip and showing me exactly what he's promising.

"Okay," I say on a shaky breath, throwing caution to the wind.

He grins and tugs me back in the direction of his secluded booth. "If you're sure, come on."