Page 20 of Mr. Bossy

“She’s very beautiful,” I remarked.

He shot me a look full of disgust.“You liked her, didn’t you?Don’t let her fool you.She’s a soul sucker, and you should hate her.I guarantee she hates you.She’s still possessive of me, still thinks she owns some part of me.”

“And doesn’t she?Why else would you go to all of this effort, if she didn’t?”

The disgust on his face deepened, and I knew it was more for himself than for me or my questions.“It’s complicated, but no, no, she doesn’t own any part of me, not anymore.I’m not the forgiving kind.This is about spite, not jealousy.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I dropped it.It was clear that the subject did not put him in a better mood, and besides that, I wasn’t crazy about talking to him about another woman, especially her.

I wanted him thinking only about me in the short time we had together.

He moved across the large living room.He set down his glass of champagne, snagging a chair from the desk in the corner.He dragged it to the middle of the room, and sat facing me, his eyes running indolently over my body.

I got an inkling of what he wanted before he even spoke.

“I want a lap dance,” he told me with a wicked grin.

“How many times do I have to tell you?Lap dances aren’t my thing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

That made me smile.He was good at turning things around on me.

“Take your dress off.Let me see those perfect tits, and that gorgeous cunt,” he ordered, the impertinent Russian.

I tipped the champagne flute back, finished it off, and set the empty glass on a table.

I reached up, undid the buttons at the back of my neck, and let the tiny dress drop to the floor, leaving me in nothing but stilettos.

He chewed his thumbnail while his cold eyes ran over me.“Get to it,” he said with a wicked grin.

I ran my hands over my breasts, pinching at the soft pink buds of my nipples.“The music is all wrong,” I told him, watching his eyes on my hands and loving what his gaze did to me.“I need a stronger beat.”

He nodded his head at the table with the champagne in the bucket of ice.“The remote’s over there.”

I found it, and started skimming through channels until I found a good hip-hop station.

I grinned at him when I found the perfect song.Get Low started playing and my hips started shaking accordingly.

He grinned back.“You can take the girl out of the strip club.”

“But you can’t take the strip club out of the girl,” I finished for him, flipping my hair as I got into the beat.

I walked over to him slowly, a sinuous strut, my hands fondling my breasts, kneading at them.

I moved very close to him, pushing my breasts a mere whisper from his mouth.

His tongue darted out, licking the soft bud of my nipple.

“Same rules,” I told him playfully.“No hands on the girls.”

He smiled blandly.“That wasn’t my hand.”He licked me again, then latched onto the aching bud and started sucking like his life depended on it.

I wrenched away with a gasp.“That’s going to put a very quick stop to the lap dance, mister.”

He patted his lap, giving me a grin that was all teeth.“Do your worst.”

I glanced down.Even through his slacks, it was obvious that he was aroused.

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