“We have nothing to say to each other, Ana. You can leave peacefully or I’ll have Bruno escort you.”
“Boss, I can take her home. Ana and I need to talk anyway,” Allen interjects.
Over the past month, Allen has made great strides. I’m even starting to like the kid. I, however, don’t want his interference here.
“You need to go back to work, Allen,” I tell him, not taking my eyes off Ana.
“Ana,” Allen says, and she puts her hand in his and squeezes it. He’s her goddamn brother and that small touch fires jealousy inside of me. I need to get her the fuck out of here before I crumble.
Allen leaves. I never take my eyes away from Ana, and she’s staring right back at me. I can pick up her nervousness, but then again, I’ve always been attuned to Ana and her body. Her body. Jesus, she looks good. Her curves seems fuller, her lips more prominent. What harm would come from just one small sip from them?
“You need to leave,” I order again, my voice gruffer as I fight the hard-on that’s pressing against the zipper of my slacks.
“I don’t want to. I don’t think you want me to either, Roman,” she says, taking a step towards me. It’s all I can do not to back away from her.
“You would be wrong. For some strange reason, I don’t keep women around who think they can play me.”
“I was doing my job,” she says, her face flushed.
“You betrayed me. I don’t give people a second chance to do that, Ana.”
“I need you to give me one,” she says, and her hand reaches out and touches my stomach. I want to groan when electricity charges between us, firing through my blood and making my dick jerk in reaction. People around us have grown quiet. It’s then I remember we’re standing at the dressing rooms of the other girls. I grab her hand on my stomach and practically pull her down the small hall. I don’t stop until we make it into the back room where the private dances are held. This is where the minx tortured me in the beginning; it seems apt that this is where it should end. It’s deserted when we get there, though I know it will be busy in here soon. I lock the door and turn back to Ana. Her breathing is so ragged, it shakes her body, her face even more flushed. Those violet eyes are dilated. I try to swallow down my need.
“Ana, you need to go.”
“I came here to dance,” she says, kicking off her shoes. I watch her and I’m at war with myself, knowing I need to send her away, but wanting one last taste of her. And why shouldn’t I? She owes me. I’m still who I am. I can take this and send her away. She wants to play the whore? Why shouldn’t I let her? Surely that’s the only reason I don’t stop her when she peels those jeans down over her hips, revealing the peach-colored flesh I want to bite into. They slide further down her legs and she gracefully kicks them off.
Fuck it. Let her dance. I sit in a cushioned chair, waiting and hoping like hell I manage to look bored because I’m anything but.
“I’ve missed you Roman,” she whispers, lifting her shirt over her head.
“If you want to dance, Ana, then dance. But I don’t need the commentary,” I warn her, my voice cold.
I can’t hear her say words that shouldn’t mean a damn thing to me. It shouldn’t matter in the least that she misses me. I don’t miss the fire in her eyes at my words. I’m pissing her off. Good. She should be pissed off. She should feel anger, because it’s all that I’ve felt since that day in the cemetery. Nothing has made it better. Even learning that she told the court that she planted all of the shit on me under orders of a superior officer did nothing to soothe my anger. I wanted to choke her. I wanted to scream and kill her. I wanted to fuck her. No matter the anger and hate inside of me, it always boiled down to that. I wanted to sink into her tight little cunt and fuck her so hard and raw that she’d never walk right again.
I still want that. As she stands in front of me in her silk underthings now, I want it so much my damn cock is salivating in need. Until Ana, I was all about control. Now I have none. Not a fucking drop of it.
She walks towards me, her hips swaying in tune to some imaginary music. Black silk. She’s wearing black silk underwear and it never looked so fucking good. She bypasses the pole and I mourn it. I’d love to see her grinding up against it, spinning around, opening her legs…
All thoughts of it stop, however, when she stands in front of me. She puts her hands on my shoulders and leans down so her breasts are in front of my face. It might be my imagination, but they look larger than I remember, so fucking ripe and big that I could push my cock into their depths and wrap them tight around my shaft and fuck myself with them. I resist… barely.