Page 95 of Bloodlust

"I need something with super tight latex," I tell my costume attendant as I get to the changing room. I scan the various props stacked on the back shelves. "And maybe a whip." I point to a trusted friend. "That one."

"You dancin' tonight?"

"I don't dance," I coo, grabbing the outfit from her hands. "I seduce."

"Please give a big S n' R welcome to the lady of the hour," Kody's voice booms through the speakers as deep, sultry house music slowly builds up around the club. "The one... The only... Kitty Vengeance."

Adjusting the cat woman mask strapped tightly around my head, I inhale the sweet,sweetscent of attention and allure.

This might be my last dance. The last night all eyes are on me.

And they are on me.

Every single fucking pair.

Fog swirls around my ankles as my heels thunder against the darkened platform. It's silent, not even a holler because they know...they know Kitty doesn't like disobedience. They stay silent as I emerge on the stage, the hedonistic rhythm of the bass drums growing louder and louder and louder, my heart hammering as I scan the audience.

Where are you, Doc?

When I reach the strip pole in the center of the stage, I cock my head, coiling the cold metal bar.

I give my eager spectators a smirk as I purr, "Why so quiet?" The build up in the beat grows as I grip the pole, hoisting myself up in one swift motion. "Cat's got your tongue?"

The beat drops and the club erupts in carnal roars as I slide down the pole, legs spread, abs tightened, pussy pulsing from the thrill.

For a minute, I lose myself in the music, in the energy, in the overflowing sensation of true power, of true confidence. At this moment, I am a fucking queen. With every hair flip, every grind, every meticulously practiced spin and twirl and bend, I know they respect me. My talent. My dedication.

My ability to make them wet and hard andneedy.

Catching my breath as I dismount the pole, I slowly detach the whip wrapped around my thigh. My gaze sweeps the engaged audience, every single fucking person gawking at me, wanting me.

Wanting to feel me, touch me, benearme. It's stimulating, empowering, euphoric even, but it's not what I'mcraving. I don't hunger for their touch, their lips, their eyes. There's only one person whose attentionIwant,Ineed,Idesire.

Hayden was right.

Idowant to hurt him. I want to make him suffer. I want to put him through tantalizing torment and titillating torture.

I want him to feel some of the pain that he's caused me. I want his heart to hammer, his cock to tense, and his eyes to shut. I want to hurt him so thatIcan stop hurting. So that I can be free. Be free of this gnawing sensation that lingers in my heart, in my brain. The feeling of helplessness. Because I am. I am helpless.

I stride to the edge of the stage, swaying my hips as I match the sensual rhythm of the music, slashing the whip against the hard platform. My purposeful gaze floats across a sea of wrong eyes until I findhim, and then the music fades. It damn near stops.

All I hear is him. All I see is him. All Iwantishim.

Every atom in my body buzzes as I take in his disapproving glare, his stiff posture, his hooded eyes. Hayden leans against a mental pillar, shaking his head subtly. He's upset. Angry even. Good.Fantasticactually.

With a conniving smirk, I hop off the stage and march toward him, brushing my fingers against the willing bodies of my patrons, my audience, my fans. Their voices are muffled, and their pleas for a dance are ignored.

I'm on a mission.

And I've got my target locked.

"Doctor," I breathe out, my breasts pressing againstthe tight latex bodysuit as I feather my fingers along his black T-shirt. My core clenches at the firmness of his chest, my palm feeling the frantic beating of his heart. "A dance?"

Hayden's lip twitches, his entire body radiating with possessive restraint as he grabs my wrist, yanking me toward him. His hot breath bashes against my ear as he inhales, grunting out in a debilitating tone, "What are you doing to me, Camilla?"

"Sit, Doctor." My breath hitches, a tiny moan slipping past my lips as I meet his smoky gaze.Fuck. I latch onto his hand, drag him to a nearby chair and throw him down. "Comfortable?"

"Not at all." He grits his teeth, glaring up at me, the bulge in his pants noticeable and oh so enticing. "I'd prefer a dance...inprivate."