Sinful Bliss
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- Parts 9
MatureOngoing27m
Last published Fri, Jul 19, 2024
A seductress.
A siren from the depths of hell.
That's what Angel was or better yet, Ophelia Martin was.
As she walked on stage, the cheers of thirsty, disgusting men filled the room. As she seductively walked on stage, I felt a familiar tightness in my pants.
Her outfit, so scandalous yet fitting. The way it hugged her curves, but left little to the imagination would make anyone fall under her spell.
She slowly walked around the pole, her hand steady on the cold metal. As she hooked her leg to the pole, I felt myself become entranced, undone.
Her eyes slowly scanned the section until they landed on mine, I lifted my drink up and she averted eye contact, but not before I could catch a glimpse of sparkle in her eyes.
The men cheered, littering the stages with bills. This brought out her pearly, white smile.
The purple, fluorescent lights danced her skin, almost illuminating her. The way she kept her grip on the pole made my mind wander to the sight of her under me, slowly becoming undone. Her curls drenched in sweat and tattered on her forehead, her lips red and swollen, her eyes filled with tears.
Her moans, cries, and screams would sound the room and would become a symphony to my ears. Our bodies, puzzle pieces, perfectly shaped and fitted for one another.
As she walked off stage, I was snapped back into reality. She connected her eyes with mine and she gave me a wink.
I felt my cheeks warm and I was certain they had turned a shade of red.
She had me under her spell, and she didn't even know it... Yet.
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He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.
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