Page 46 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
His jawline stiffens and his expression turns guarded. “I’m sure you’ll meet some of my friends tomorrow. As for my family… I don’t have any contact with them, nor do I like to talk about them. You can ask me anything you like, but my family is a topic I don’t discuss.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
Daxton’s reserved stance only makes me want to ask further questions about his family. They obviously have a negative impact on his life, and I’m curious why. Ever since we started texting frequently, I’ve found myself wanting to know more about Daxton, and not on a surface level. I want to know what kind of things make him happy, sad, and all the past experiences that have shaped him into the man he is today. I want him to trust me with important information, the same as how I’m starting to trust him.
“Something really serious must have happened for you to cut off contact with them,” I say. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t judge. Families are complicated. Mine certainly is. I don’t talk to my parents either.”
His brows draw together, studying me with confusion. “I didn’t realize.”
“Yeah. It’s a long story.”
“As is mine. I’m sorry to hear that.” He clears his throat and focuses back on the movie. Conversation over, I suppose. Family is clearly a sore topic for Daxton. But he mentioned a niece earlier, so he must still have some family around.
“What do you think of the movie so far?” I ask.
The tension in Daxton’s jaw softens. He grins, glancing sideways at me. “I think you’re better than all of these performers.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I saw you perform at Club Noir. You caught my attention out of all the other women on stage.”
I exhale a sigh. “If I could only get someone else to feel the same way and hire me.”
“Have you gone to any auditions this week?”
“No. I’ve been busy practicing this new dance routine. I’ll start auditioning with it soon.”
“Show me.”
“Really?” I’ve posted dance routines on TikTok for the world to see. I’ve danced in clubs in front of complete strangers. But my palms grow clammy at the thought of performing such a sensual dance for Daxton.
“Yeah. I’m interested.”
“Ah… okay. We should go to your gym, then.”
Daxton pauses the movie and we climb off the daybed. Once we enter the gym, he approaches the new installation of Russian silks and the lyra hoop, examining both.
“Fancy.” He takes a seat in a nearby leather armchair. “All right, let me see this routine.”
I look down at myself dressed in my long pajama pants and a hoodie. The clothes are baggy and not at all suitable for dancing on the aerial hoop. I always practice in a sports bra and tiny pants. “I can’t dance in these clothes. Do you mind if I take them off?”
A muscle in his jaw twitches and his voice comes out a little strained. “Of course not.”
Daxton’s eyes remain on me, his arms spread over the chair’s armrests as I slide out of my clothes, stripping down to my black bra and panties. I don’t know why his gaze makes every inch of me feel like I’m on fire. I’ve worn less than this while performing on stage for a crowd. But my breath grows shallow and I’m buzzing with adrenaline. Perhaps it’s the act of undressing in front of Daxton. Or that I keep visualizing him in the shower and replaying the sound of his deep groans. I spoke true when I said I’ve never seen a man get himself off. Despite being in a sexualized profession, my sex life has always been vanilla. But after that display in the shower…
I’ve never seen anything so hot. I’m not surevanillawill be enough for me anymore. I’ll be reliving that shower scene in my mind later when I’m alone, imagining a different ending where Daxton finishes.
Trying to focus on something other than what Daxton might sound like when coming, I dim the lights to set the mood of my dance, then play music from my phone, the song amplifying from the ceiling speakers. The tune is a slow and sultry melody, hypnotic in nature and filled with deep bass beats and breathy vocals.
Feeling the intensity of Daxton’s eyes still on me, I pull myself onto the aerial hoop and begin the routine. My body twists and contorts, becoming one with the music. Each movement is fluid and sensual as I showcase my flexibility and strength.
I fell in love with burlesque dancing when I was a teenager, watching beautiful women on stage be the focus of everyone’s desire. I dreamed of being those beautiful women and how it would feel to make a man weak for me. The dream turned into a reality when I started dancing at eighteen, and while I’ve felt adored each time I’ve performed, I’m certain I’ve never felt the heat of a man’s desire more than right now while dancing for Daxton.
Before long, a thin layer of sweat glistens on my skin and I know it’s not purely from physical exertion. I dare to glance over my shoulder at Daxton and find his half-lidded gaze pinned to me. Though the lighting is dim, I can see in his eyes and from the rigid angle of his jaw how much he likes what he sees. There’s something so empowering about Daxton being such a dominant man in every aspect of his life, but that I have this effect on him.I’mthe one in control right now.Ihave his full attention and can make him bend to my way.
I tumble backward for my next move, my hair cascading beneath me as I hang upside down. With my legs being all that connects me to the hoop, I squeeze my thighs tight to hold on. The tension in my muscles shoots straight to my groin and I let out an unexpected moan. This is the first time I’ve performed such a physical routine while so aroused, and I’m not expecting the tightness in my muscles to build into something pleasurable. An approaching orgasm.
My peripheral vision catches Daxton readjusting in his chair. I glance his way, finding his eyes narrowed on me. He definitely heard the moan. Does he know I’m on the brink of coming?
