Midnight Temptation | C.S
Warning: smut, P in V, grinding and lap dancing
The dim lights of the Velvet Rope pulsed with the bass-heavy beat, casting shadows over the stage where you moved like liquid sin. As the stripper known only as 'Raven' to the regulars, you owned the pole tonight, your body twisting and grinding against the cool metal. Leather boots hugged your calves up to your thighs, a barely-there thong and pasties your only cover, leaving your curves on full display for the hungry crowd.
Chris sat at a high-top table near the stage, nursing a whiskey on the rocks. He wasn't a regular—his broad shoulders and sharp jawline screamed outsider, maybe a businessman blowing off steam after a long week. But his eyes locked on you the moment you dropped low, ass arched high as you rolled your hips. Heat flushed your skin under his gaze; there was something intense about him, like he wasn't just watching but devouring.
Your set ended with a flourish, bills fluttering into your garter like confetti. You sauntered offstage, hips swaying, catching his stare again. He raised his glass in a silent toast, lips curving into a smirk that sent a thrill straight to your core. Back in the dressing room, you freshened up, deciding on impulse to approach him. Private dances paid the bills, and something about Chris promised more than just tips.
You found him at the bar, sliding onto the stool beside him with a sultry smile. 'Enjoy the show?' you purred, crossing your legs so your thigh brushed his.
'Best part of my night,' he replied, voice low and rough, like gravel under tires. His blue eyes raked over you, lingering on the swell of your breasts. 'Name's Chris. You got a name, or should I just call you trouble?'
You laughed, leaning in close enough for him to catch the scent of your vanilla body oil. 'Call me whatever you want, as long as you buy me a drink first.' He did, and soon you were chatting—flirty banter about his boring job in finance, your wild nights on stage. But the air crackled with unspoken want. When he suggested a private room, you didn't hesitate.
The VIP booth was a cocoon of red velvet and low lights, the door clicking shut behind you. Soft music thrummed from hidden speakers as you pushed him into the plush couch, straddling his lap. 'Lap dance, handsome? Fifty bucks.'
His hands settled on your hips, firm and possessive. 'Make it worth it.'
You started slow, grinding down against the growing bulge in his slacks, your ass pressing into his thighs. He groaned, fingers digging in as you arched back, letting your breasts bounce inches from his face. The friction built heat between your legs, your thong growing damp. Emboldened, you reached for his tie, loosening it while rolling your hips in circles.
'Fuck, you're killing me,' Chris muttered, his breath hot on your skin. One hand slid up your back, unhooking your top with surprising skill. The pasties peeled away, exposing your nipples to the cool air. He captured one in his mouth without warning, sucking hard, tongue flicking the peak.
A moan escaped you, unprofessional but fuck it—this wasn't just a dance anymore. You ground harder, feeling his cock throb through his pants. 'You want more than a tease, don't you?'
He pulled back, eyes dark with lust. 'I want to fuck you. Right here.'
The words ignited you. You stood, turning to peel off your thong, bending over so he got a full view of your ass and the slick folds of your pussy. Chris was on his feet in seconds, shedding his shirt to reveal a chiseled chest dusted with hair. His belt clinked open, pants dropping to free his thick cock—veined and hard, pre-cum beading at the tip.
You dropped to your knees before he could say a word, wrapping your lips around the head. He tasted salty, musky, and you sucked greedily, tongue swirling as you took him deeper. Chris's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your rhythm. 'That's it, suck my cock like you mean it.'
You did, hollowing your cheeks, bobbing fast while one hand stroked the base. His hips bucked, fucking your mouth shallowly, groans filling the room. Saliva dripped down your chin, but you didn't care—his pleasure fueled yours, your free hand slipping between your thighs to rub your clit.
'Enough,' he growled, pulling you up. He spun you around, bending you over the arm of the couch. Your palms pressed into the cushions as he kicked your legs wider. His cock nudged your entrance, teasing through your wetness. 'You ready for this?'
'Fuck me, Chris,' you demanded, pushing back.
He thrust in with one brutal stroke, stretching your pussy around his girth. You cried out, the fullness overwhelming, pleasure bordering on pain. He didn't hold back, pounding into you with relentless force, balls slapping against your ass. Each slam hit deep, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
'So tight... fuck, your pussy's gripping me like a vice,' he panted, one hand reaching around to pinch your nipple. You rocked back to meet him, the angle letting his cock drag over that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
Sweat slicked your skin as he fucked you harder, the couch creaking under the assault. You clenched around him, chasing your release, fingers circling your clit furiously. 'I'm gonna cum—oh god—'
'Cum on my cock,' he ordered, slapping your ass sharply. The sting pushed you over, orgasm crashing through you in waves. Your pussy spasmed, milking him as you screamed his name.
Chris followed seconds later, burying deep and flooding you with hot spurts of cum. He collapsed over you, both of you breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside your soaked heat.
After a moment, he pulled out, cum trickling down your thigh. You turned, kissing him messy and deep, tasting yourself on his lips. 'That was... intense.'
He grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 'Worth every penny. Round two at my place?'
You smirked, already plotting how to make him beg. 'Only if you drive.'
