Page 2 of Crown of Thorns
My pulse skips. “You’re not the guy from before.” Unease crawls down my spine. That stance. That flash in his eye.
Bass and low light blur as he stalks forward, drink in hand. Glitter clings to lean muscle lit by glow. Metallic shorts hug his hips, belt slung low. Black hair tousled, lips soft and smirking.
“Who the hell are you?” My voice sounds strained. Looking past him and into the void, every muscle in my body locks. “Where did the other guy go?”
He studies me for a beat, then flashes a devilish grin. “I’m the one who’s going to give you your money’s worth and then some. Now, be a good boy and relax. I can spot the tension in your shoulders from a mile away.”
His voice is rich and makes my insides tingle. I haven’t had that feeling in a very long time.
“This is not what I requested. I–I paid for private time, not a dance,” I whisper breathily. But my eyes track every slow, confident step the dancer makes as he steps forward and sets his drink down. The music starts playing a slow, sensual song. He kicks my thighs apart with his foot, and I watch as his hands come down and tighten around the arms of the chair, caging me in. His eyes are like a caress all over my body.
“No?” He cocks his head and grins. From this close, I see that even the lower part of his face is sparkling. “You look like you could use the dance.”
“I paid two hundred and fifty euros to…to…” One knee slowly presses between my legs, teasing. He then swings one leg over and straddles the chair, settling just above my lap in one graceful move. Our bodies are not quite touching—yet—but the tension is thick enough to taste.
The rest of my words disappear into the silence, which is charged as hell. He's hovering right over my rapidly filling cock. Heat coils through my insides.
Ari’sBabydollfills the room, the rhythm of the song meant to tease. Lazy, sensual, and perfect for languid rolls, and to slowly make me lose my mind. Judging by the way he cracksa smirk, he knows it. His touch glides over my shoulders, then down my chest, fingers teasing my open collar and along my collarbone. I exhale, deep and quiet, gaze locked on the dancer like he’s reading a secret message in every move. Now seated atop me, he grinds against me, with just enough friction to make my breath catch. The rhythm picks up with the music, smooth and hypnotic. Each move of his body is perfectly timed, perfectly targeted.
“You look scared.” He swivels his hips against mine again. “Are you?”
Yes. “No,” I murmur.
Leaning in, he brushes his lips over the shell of my ear. “You wanted to come here tonight.”
“Yeah.” I say it too quickly, my voice catching on something fragile. I’m already coming apart, piece by piece.
He presses in, body moving like smoke over mine. My hands turn into fists by my side.
Our faces are inches apart now. The dancer leans in, lips brushing my jaw without kissing. “Hmmm. Tell me to stop,” he whispers, leaving goosebumps all over my skin.
“I want to touch you.” I press my lips together in shock. The words tumbled out of my mouth. “I mean?—”
His tongue drags down my throat, fingers threading through my curls, teasing out every last ounce of control. I shudder, and a sound escapes—raw, broken, desperate.
“That’s right. Give in to me.” His voice is a pleasant rasp that works magic on my hard dick and balls, making them pulse with arousal.
Something inside me snaps. My carefully created facade crumbles. But I don’t answer with words, I answer by choosing him. Sliding one hand to the dancer’s lower back, I pull him in that final inch, closing the space between us. Our bodies press fully together, wrapping heat and hunger in silk and bass.
Here, in the quiet haze of gold and shadow, we aren’t performer and client. We are something else entirely, something simmering and electric, something that doesn’t need labels, only breath and rhythm and the silent language we both give into.
“You’re so sexy.” The words come out in a breathy rush, and he smiles. His chest sways above me, smooth and glinting, drawing my eyes to the hollow of his throat.
“You think so?” He dips his chin and chuckles.
The music slows, melting into something darker, all bass and whispered melody. The dancer’s movements match it, more fluid now, more deliberate. Every shift of his hips, every graze of his fingertips down my chest is calculated, but not performative. It's only for me.
I tilt my own head back, exposing the line of my throat.
“I can feel how bad you want it,” the dancer whispers, his voice like velvet over coals. “But I like watching you hold back.”
My jaw clenches, fingers digging deeper into his hips. “And what if I don’t want to hold back?”
A pause. A pulse.
“What? Break that stoic exterior you've got going on?” He teases, smirk returning just before he grabs my hand and placing it on his throbbing dick. I can’t look away, I don’t want to miss a second of those long, strong legs, the glittering shorts, that hard cock pressed against my palm. “This is what you came for.”
I nod. He’s right. I wilfully walked into the trap of desire and loved being caught by this, this…he cocks his head and takes me in. His eyes are as dark as the night. He’s dangerous in the way beauty sometimes is. Undeniable, unforgettable. I already know I won’t sleep tonight. Even in my haze, that kind of pisses me off.
