Legacy of Lies - Whitney G. Page 0,25
it?”
“That I never got to see you perform at Club Swan,” he says. “I truly regret that.”
“Out of all the things…That’s the regret?”
“It’s a very big one.” He smiles. “I heard you were quite the draw when you worked there.”
“Did you stalk some of the clients and ask about me?”
“I didn’t have to.” He shakes his head. “I called the club owner and asked when it was best to pay a visit. He said whenever the ‘black swan’ was performing, and he also said that those were the nights when he charged double the price.”
I raise my eyebrow, realizing that the manager never told me that. “I can make it up to you tonight if you like.”
“Mrs. Anderson,” he says, enunciating every syllable of my last name as he pulls me close. “Your days of dancing in front of strangers are long over. You’re never stepping foot in Club Swan again.”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting.” I look over at the abandoned poles. “If you get a chair, I can give you my first and only private show. I might even let you be the first man to touch me during a performance...”
Smirking, he slowly lets me go. “Say less.”
He moves past me and opens a panel under the stage. Within seconds, a row of red leather seats slowly emerges onto the floor and music begins to play.
“Is this loud enough for you?” he asks.
“It could be a little louder,” I admit. “The song could be a little slower, too.”
He taps a few buttons on the remote, keeping his eyes on mine as he shuffles through the club’s playlist, waiting for me to approve a song.
“Stop.” I nod when one of my favorite sensual songs begins to play.
As he takes a seat, I toss my hoodie to the floor, and move to the pole that’s directly in front of him.
I continue to undress, taking off everything except my panties and my bra.
Michael leans back in his chair and lights a cigar, just like he did in all my fantasies. Back when I wished that he really was in the front row at Club Swan.
Hooking my left leg around the cold metal, I keep my eyes on him as I hoist myself up, going as high as I can go. When the first line of the song’s chorus plays, I lean backward—letting my hair fall free as I twirl around a few times. I use all of my arm strength to pull myself up, and then I hold a split in mid-air.
Michael’s gaze starts becoming more heated and primal as the song continues, and I can tell that he’s mentally fucking me with every move I make. I make. That he’s trying hard to keep his composure as I spin my way back down.
When I make it to the edge of the stage and spread my legs for the floor part of my routine, he gets up from his chair and walks toward me. He slips his hands under my thighs and pulls me to the edge.
“My dance isn’t over yet,” I say. “I’ve got four more minutes.”
“I’m too aroused for you to finish,” he says. “I need to fuck you right now. Lean back.”
I oblige, and the second my back hits the cold floor, he places my legs over his shoulders.
He unzips his pants in one smooth motion, pulling out his cock, and he slides every inch of it into me at once—relentlessly fucking me to an orgasm. Just when I think he’s done—that he wants to catch his breath, he pulls me up by my hair and looks deep into my eyes.
“Get on your knees,” he says, briefly cupping my face in his hands, before using my hoodie to wipe off his cock.
Obliging, I move onto the floor.
He runs his fingers through my hair a few times, watching me rub his cock between my hands.
I take him deep into my mouth—down my throat, again and again, swallowing every inch of him. The way he looks at me as I pleasure him makes me use my free hand to rub my clit.
“Fuck…” His legs stiffen, and he whispers that he’s about to come, but I don’t move. I wait for it and swallow every last drop.
Grabbing my hands, he pulls me up and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry that I ever left you for more than five fucking seconds.”
“I’m sorry for not following your directions while I was there.”
“Don’t be.” He shakes his head. “As long as you follow them while