Page 8 of Roxanne

Besides, she hates me. Well, she thinks she does, anyway. But my girl doesn’t know just how similar love and hate can be.

She wasn’t supposed to be working tonight. I’m certainly not supposed to be in here, getting a lap dance. I should be working on the contact for William. After all, those guys out there aren’t my friends. But this is where they wanted to meet. They’re important to Will, which means they’re important to me.

But then she walked over. Roxanne has always had a way of derailing my fucking plans.

“I fucking hate you,” she snarls, and I nod.

“I know, Little Sinner. Now get the fuck over here before I drag you,” I warn, and her eyes flare with a fire I’ve never seen from her before.

“You want a fucking fight, Storm? Bring it.” She plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her large breasts together. The image of her shaking them in another man's face has anger flaring in my chest once again.

“Last warning. If I get up, I’m shoving my cock down your throat.”

“I’ll bite it off.”

“I’ll break your jaw if you try.”

“Bastard!” she hisses, before reluctantly making her way over to me. She stops in front of me, glaring daggers into my skull.

“On your knees, crawl to me,” I demand, making her glare intensify.

“Asshole.” She flips me off, and I lift a brow.

“Do that again, and I will.”

“Go die, bastard,” she snaps, but I watch with satisfaction as she drops to her knees and crawls to me. When she’s within arm's reach, she stops, and I smirk.

“Now dance,” I say, gesturing to my lap. “Unless you want Daddy to know your dirtiest secrets.”

“Fuck you,” she growls, but climbs into my lap nonetheless.

She bounces her ass, keeping her pussy out of reach of my aching cock. She’s always been a master at teasing, and she revels in it. Every flick of her hips, every bounce of her ass, seems to be calculated to drive me to the brink of madness. I reach out for her, desperate to feel her soft skin against mine, but she keeps just out of reach. Our game is a dangerous one, and we both know it.

Realizing that the power has shifted, and the tables have turned, she smirks and laughs at me, her voice like music to my ears, as she continues to dance just out of my grasp. My cock aches with desire, straining against the fabric of my jeans. I want nothing more than to bury myself inside her, to feel her slick heat surrounding me.

But not yet.

She’s loving the power she thinks she holds over me, the way she can reduce my cock to begging with just a simple sway of her hips. And I love her for it, even as she drives me mad with longing.

Eventually, though, I snap.

As soon as she dances within reach, I grab her. A startled sound falls from her lips, but I don’t let go.

Slamming her hips down with a firm grip on her waist, I watch her gasp as she feels my hardness.

“Grind your slutty pussy against my cock until you come like the little whore you are.” I stare into her eyes and watch as they dilate, and her breathing gets erratic.

She shakes her head subtly, and I tisk.

“I’m not asking, Roxy. Don’t deny me. Come on my cock, or I’ll force it inside you and make you milk it with your tight cunt. And then I’ll out you to your daddy.” This wasn’t the plan, but forcing her to admit her desire for me is.

And the best way to do that? Make her desperate for the man she despises. Make her greedy pussy beg to be fucked by the cock she hates.

As soon as she feels my hard length against her, she freezes. I can see the reluctance and the desire warring in her eyes and the way she tries to pull away from me.

But I don’t let her. Instead, I hold her firmly against me, feeling her warmth through my pants. Her body is tense, and I can see the inner conflict in her mind playing out on her face like a movie.

She hates me, and yet she wants me.

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