Page 17 of Goddess of Mayhem

Some people crave status and power so much that it’s palpable. Trina is one of those people. She is a sweet girl and loyal to her very core, but she would do anything to get a leg up in this world.

“Darling Trina, as I have told you so many times before, I do not fuck with employees—”

She sighs dramatically, interrupting the rest of what I was about to say. “Yeah, yeah, ‘it’s messy.’” She then pouts.

“Good girl.” I chuckle and kiss her on the cheek, then brush past her and make my way to the bar.

While making my way down the hall, I catch sight of white-blonde hair and black sequins turning the corner to the private rooms, a man following close behind. My steps slow as I watch her seductively lead him into one of the rooms, and my cock takes notice.

Jealousy floods through me when I see the man smack her ass, and I find my steps have picked up speed again until I’m barging through the door. Chantelle is the first to notice my abrupt appearance, and her jade eyes widen. Then, the short, stocky man takes notice of where her attention is and turns to me.

“Hey, this is my room, fucker. Pay for your own time!” He jabs a finger at me, and my hand darts out and snaps it backward, causing him to scream out in pain as his bone breaks.

“Sorry about that.” I smirk when I notice Chantelle’s mouth hanging agape. “This room has already been taken. See yourself out, because you will not like it if I have to remove you myself.”

Without further protest, the man hurries out of the room while cradling his injured finger. I shut and lock the door, leaning against it and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. I offer one to Chantelle, but she is too stunned to accept or deny.

I place a stick between my lips and light the end, puffing on the toxic air I have not breathed in for so long. After a few moments of silence, Chantelle blinks, and her face twists in confusion.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demands.

There is a sense of pleasure in someone speaking to me like I won’t ruin their whole life with the snap of my fingers, or break their neck with the twist of my wrists. There’s something about this small creature’s ability to stare at me with venom dripping from her green eyes that sends a thrill through me.

It’s a poison I want to drink from her veins, and a sharp tongue I want to tame.

“I think I want a dance, Little Bird.” I smirk at her as I push off the door. Chantelle tracks my movements as I close in on her. Using my knuckle, I lift her chin, and her body stiffens under my touch. “We don’t want an unsatisfied customer now, do we?”

Chantelle jerks her head from my grip and crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her gaze as my smile grows with her resistance. I have never been one for playing games, but this one I just may play.

“You’ve been fucking with my money for weeks,Omen,” she spits. “You don’t pay for shit.”

I might have put myself in the way of the times Chantelle has had private requests, but this is the first time I have come face to face with her since doing it. My hand snaps out and encircles her neck. Tugging her forward, I bring her face close to mine.

“You’ve been paid to dance, haven’t you? So, dance.” I squeeze a little tighter, and Chantelle’s eyes widen as her airway is cut off. “I will not ask again.”

I release her throat and walk by her, settling into the loveseat and helping myself to the champagne on the end table. I bite back the urge to smile when I hear the platform heels click on the floor as they round the couch, and then Chantelle comes into view.

Her jaw is tense with rage as she tries to keep her anger under control. I cannot help but push her, just to see how much she is willing to push back. I am intrigued by her bravado, and the urge to find out whether it is just a defense mechanism or if it’s true strength is almost too much.

“Have a drink,” I say, holding out a glass of champagne as a peace offering. She eyes it warily, like I might have drugged it or something. “It will calm down some of that rage burning through you.”

Chantelle scoffs and reaches out, snatching the flute from my hand and downing it in one gulp.

Seven

Nathaniel

AFTERGETTINGCHANTELLETOdrink more than half the bottle of champagne, she has loosened up. Her hips start swaying to the music in a more natural way, getting lost in the rhythm without the pressure of doing it for cash.

She is beautiful when she lets herself go. My presence usually makes the time she spends on stage exactly what it is—a performance. I lean back and watch as she makes her way to the pole. The sequins on her short, tight dress glitter under the low lighting as she moves.

White-blonde hair flows just below Chantelle’s shoulders, covering her face slightly as she spins around the pole. My fists pump at my sides, trying to resist the urge to reach out and brush it off so I can see her. When the next song begins, it is a bit slower than the ones she has been dancing to.

Slowly, she walks over to me as she pulls her dress over her head, revealing a pair of black-lace panties and her tits on full display, begging for my mouth. My cock twitches in my pants, reminding me that it’s been a while since a woman has grabbed my attention like this.

Chantelle settles on my lap, straddling me and locking me under her. She grinds her pussy against me, and an airy gasp escapes her plump lips when she realizes just how hard I am for her. My idle hands latch onto her hips and drive her down, grinding her against me. I’m loving the noises she makes each time I move her body against mine.

Her face falls in the crook of my neck, and I reach up to wrap one of my hands in her hair, yanking her head back to make her arch against me. I lower my face so my mouth finds her exposed nipple. I bite down hard, causing her to yell out.

---