Page 8 of The Price of My Sins

The bass thumped through the Club Paradise like it had a heartbeat of its own, shaking the entire room. I leaned back against the plush velvet sofa in my private VIP section above the stage. The smoke from my Cuban cigar surrounded me in the chaos of flashing lights. My eyes, though, weren’t on the crowd. They were locked on her. “Rodeo” by Lah Phat & Flo Milli bumped through the club. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as she twirled around the pole with ease, her legs spread open. That fat pussy was barely covered by the white thong she wore. My mind drifted to the last time I had my face buried so deep between those chocolate thighs, drinking her cream like I was dying of thirst.

Olivia was on the stage, under the sporadic lights, moving like she had all the time in the world, and the music was a part of her. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, shifting colors with each movement. And that damn cowgirl hat rested on her head as if it had been crafted specifically for her.

It wasn’t the hat, though, or even the white knee-high cowgirl boots with the tassels swinging in rhythm that had me so hooked. It was her. The way she moved and the confidence that rolled off of her like a wave crashing over everyone in the club had us all stuck. And she knew it. The little smirk that playedon her lips knowing she had all of us right where she wanted us, proved she knew what she was capable of. We were under her spell, and she was loving it.

I didn’t think anyone in the place wasn’t hypnotized by her. Every nigga and bitch in the club seemed to stop as she danced. Every head turned toward her like she was a magnetic force pulling them all in, making us forget everything else. It wasn’t a surprise. Olivia shut the club down every time her sexy ass graced the stage.

I wanted to feel some type of way about how these niggas in here were lusting after Olivia like they had a shot at getting a piece of her. It was almost comical. But the truth is, I didn’t have the right to feel jealous—to feel anything. She wasn’t mine to claim. She’d never been mine to begin with, even though I felt otherwise.

I tried to shake the feelings that I had for this woman, but I couldn’t. There was something about Olivia that kept me coming back, pulling me in like an addict craving the same feeling from his first hit. Her presence lingered in my mind long after she left the room. I couldn’t escape her no matter how hard I tried.

Her eyes were so full of mystery and warmth. They had a way of piercing through all my defenses, making me feel exposed and vulnerable in ways I wasn’t comfortable with. On top of all that, she had some of the tightest, wettest pussy a nigga ever had in my fucking life. The shit had me addicted the minute I slid inside of her. I was weak for this woman, and she knew it.

Olivia spun around the pole, the tassels on her boots swishing while the lights moved in sync with her every twist. I could hear the crowd losing it around me, money being tossed on the stage at her feet, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The pasties covering her gumdrop-sized nipples had me biting my lips. Just thinking about how much she loved it when I would bite them shit as she rode my dick had me lusting for her.

I wasn’t just watching her. I was feeling her. Every flick of her wrist and every twist of her thick hips had my dick hard as fuck. The music, the noise of the club, the people—they all faded into the background. Nothing more than a distant hum was heard while I got lost in the rhythm of her sexy body.

She looked up to my section and caught my gaze, giving me that little grin. The one that made my heart skip a beat every fucking time. It was like the whole world tilted. In that instant, it was just me and her, even though there were a bunch of motherfuckers around us.

I swear, the air grew thicker as if she’d cast some kind of spell on a nigga. I felt my body warm. Baby girl wasn’t just dancing. She commanded the space now, owning it like she was born to be the center of attention. And damn if I didn’t want to take her home with me and punish that pussy.

She gave one final twirl, the tassels on her boots flying out like a whirlwind, and then she paused, standing tall, chest rising and falling, her gaze never leaving mine. The whole club was in an uproar; piles of money lay at her feet, and you could barely see the floor. But I knew one thing for sure: I was under her spell, and there was no way I was ever getting out. I know this because I’d tried.

The lights faded, and Olivia strutted off the stage, but not before locking eyes with me one last time. It took the bouncers nearly twenty minutes to gather her earnings from the platform. By the time they were finished, they hauled away three bulging trash bags stuffed with cash. I wasn’t shocked, though. Every time Olivia hit the stage, she made bank, further gaining haters from the rest of the dancers who already didn’t like her because they knew she was who these niggas came to see.

I finished the last of my drink and stood up. Heading out of my section, I made my way downstairs and toward the exit. I never stayed after Olivia’s set. I only showed up on the nightsthat she danced, leaving before she had the chance to change. As I walked through the crowded dance floor, I could feel eyes on me. When I looked around, my eyes landed on a hooded figure at the bar, staring a hole through me. I already knew who the person was.

I chuckled and kept it moving, but the petty nigga in me had me retreating in the opposite direction toward the back of the club. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, but who the fuck was gonna check me? When I got to the back, the dude who was guarding the dressing rooms knew who I was and who I was there to see, so he let me through with no problem.

Just as I reached the door of the dressing room, I saw who I was looking for slipping into the bathroom. The door barely creaked as she tried to close it behind her. Without thinking, I pushed the door open, my hand brushing against the cool wood. I stepped inside before she had the chance to react.

Olivia froze for a split second, glancing over her shoulder, eyes widening for a moment before narrowing into that familiar, feisty glare I knew all too well. “What the hell are you doing, Bo? Josh is here.” she pushed out, her voice low, but there was no mistaking the edge in it.

I didn’t back up, nor did I even hesitate. “You think I give a fuck about that nigga? Fuck him.” I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her waist, admiring her outfit. I knew she wore it just for me.

“Bo—”

Gripping her by the neck, I pulled her to me and crashed my lips against hers.

She paused for a bit before giving in to me. I tried sucking the air out of her ass. The kiss was so deep it had my heart damn near about to combust out of my chest. When she wrapped her arms around my neck, I gripped her ass, picked her up, and sat her on the sink without detaching our lips. As we continuedswapping spit, I unbuckled my belt and worked on pulling my dick out. My shit was feigning to feel the inside of her tight walls. We hadn’t fucked in over a month, and I couldn’t take this shit anymore.

Just as I was pulling her thong to the side, ready to slide into home base, she tried to push me back, but it was too late. I had already pushed my dick deep inside her, and she was dripping wet, proving she was excited I’d hit a home run.

“Oh, God! B… Bo. We… We can’t do this!” she moaned out, her walls sucking me in like they missed me.

Without responding, I picked up the pace, and her pussy clenched around my shaft the more I dug into her guts. Olivia is the only woman who was able to handle my size, and that alone had me hooked, lined, and sinker. I grabbed her neck as I continued beating up her box, squeezing it just enough not to hurt her. I grunted, feeling her pussy queef as her eyes began to roll to the back of their lids. Her moans echoed through the small bathroom, along with the squishy sound of her pussy.

“Damn, your pussy so wet, O,” I groaned as I slowed my pace, moving with precision inside of her. “Open your eyes and look how wet I got this… shit!” My eyes shot down to her pussy, and I bit my lip. “Look how wet I got this pussy, O.” Her tightness had me stumbling over my damn words.

She did what I asked, and we both looked down at the mess we were making as if we were watching a movie. Olivia groaned as she watched my dick slid in and out, and out and in her with ease. My pole was covered in her nectar; you could barely see the color of my dick. That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t wearing a fucking condom. Shaking my head, I bit back a displeased groan. A nigga was being reckless out this bitch. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Olivia. I just didn’t know if she was making ole boy strap up or not. It was too late to stop, though. I was already inside thosepearly gates, ready to repent all of my sins, and there was no way I could pull out if I wanted.

“Shit, I missed you, Bo. God, I missed you so much, baby,” she whimpered as her nails dug into my arms. When she tried to kiss me, I turned my head. We weren’t on that type of time anymore.

“Shut up and take this dick, O.” I placed her legs in the crook of my arms and fucked her like my life depended on it. “Good-ass pussy. Too bad it’s not mine.” I dug in her so deep you would have thought I was digging for gold. I was fucking Olivia like a nigga was about to do a life sentence. Each stroke was more powerful than the one before.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! I’m about to come, baby!” Olivia placed her hands on my shoulders and began to roll her hips against me, chasing her nut.

“Yeah, get your nut, O. Go a little faster.” She began gyrating her hips, and I could tell she was on the verge of letting loose. “Yeah, just like that!” I growled as I gazed into her eyes, and she looked at me, holding my stare. I held onto her waist as I let her take control. Her voice elevated a few notches, and her body began to shake like she was having a seizure.

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