Page 94 of Injustice and Absolution

My eyes refocus on the cash in my hand.

I fully understand that a lot of money can be made by dancing here. I’ve seen cash pour from the pockets of men who both can and can’t afford to part with it.

Yet I still find it inconceivable how thirty minutes of shaking my ass made me more money than a few nights of waitressing.

Sex. Fucking. Sells.

It’s despicable. I want to be excited about it. Who wouldn’t get a charge out of making $500 in minutes?

While my willingness to do this for Drew is arguable, it’s a fight with myself I’ll never win.

My attention is pulled from the money by the crescendo of footsteps getting closer in the hallway. My back straightens, and my knees begin to wobble at Drew’s imminent reappearance.

He steps through the doorway slowly as his eyes find mine. Stalking toward me, his lips lift at the corners of his mouth, greeting me with a pleased smile. His hard dick presses against his pants, jutting out toward me like a compass.

And I’m its destination.

“Delilah, you were amazing. My precious, pretty girl.”

My nickname doesn’t swell my pride or cause my love to soar like it normally would. I should be glad he’s not as angry as I thought he’d be, but there is something else behind his delighted expression. Something that borders on maniacal.

His feet don’t stop moving until they hit the base of the chair. Before I know what’s happening, Drew pulls me onto the seat where the client sat, tugs my ass to the edge, and rips my thong off.

What is with this man’s uncontrollable urge to ruin every pair of panties I own?

The force of Drew’s pull causes me to lose my hold on the wad of money, and the bills fly into the air like a game of 52-card pickup. Drew pays the floating money no mind as he wrenches my legs farther apart, opening me wide for him. His focus is on one thing and one thing only.

“I fucking love you so much, Delilah,” he declares before refocusing his stare. “Look at that perfect glisten...”

Licking his lips, his voice trails off with rabid hunger shining in his eyes.

Diving between my legs, he laps away at every inch of my pussy and upper inner thighs, gathering any moisture left behind from the lap dance.

He impales me with his tongue and desperately pulls at my opening in hopes of slurping anything else he might have missed.

I fight between feeling dirty about how I got this wet in the first place and getting mildly turned on at the idea of him cleaning up the mess I’ve made.

“Did you think of me the whole time?” Drew’s lips tickle mine as he remains between my legs, but my face now holds his attention.

“Of course, I did,” I insist.

He doesn’t need to know I fled to my happy place while my body stayed behind and reacted on instinct to maintain my survival.

Exactly as it’s been trained to do. I thought after all this time it would have deprogrammed itself. But after all of the events that have occurred over the last month, I suppose I’m grateful it hasn’t.

He traces his fingers along my stomach until they reach my bra. Digging through the opening that showcases my cleavage, Drew grips the fabric then tears it apart. My breasts sway the moment they’re freed, and he latches onto my nipples as he closes his mouth over my clit.

With the same rate of speed and intensity, both his fingers and his tongue work my two sensitive areas, causing my body to quake with uncontrolled desire.

I hate that he can work me over like this when all I want to do is drown in my sorrow.

But as my first orgasm rockets through my body, it’s like the last forty-five minutes never happened. We’re back in Drew’s office, and he has me laid out over his desk.

And I give in.

This is what I’ve wanted all night.

Right here.

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