Page 2 of Bloodstained Wings
He nods, pulling the car toward the bustle of downtown. “You’re still planning on going to the election party tonight, right? Everyone has already said they’re coming to support you. It’s a big deal, Carter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he growls, his hands skating over the tops of my thighs and caressing the insides. He pulls my legs apart further, exposing me to the back of the seat in front of us. Thankfully, Ernesto can’t see anything of my vulnerable position, but Carter loves riding the line of almost making that happen. “We will be at the gala on time and dressed to the nines.”
I lay my head back on his shoulder, already throbbing with the heat that shoots down my stomach and settles in my pussy. Carter knows it, too, just like he knows everything else about my body. He drags his hands up the back of my shirt next, undoing my bra clasp by clasp.
His teeth pull at my ear, his voice deepening in tone. “Take it off. Now.”
I manage to slip my bra off through my shirt, pulling it out through one of my sleeves. He looks over the expensive pink lace before tossing it onto the backseat beside us.
“Good, dove.”
I practically purr against him, my ass writhing against his erect cock. I can almost feel the taut tip of his dick when I inch my ass back, grinding into his lap until it’s clear that he’s going to erupt. His hands snatch my hands, stilling me until the car comes to a screeching halt.
“Stay out here,” Carter sighs, nudging me out the door while he speaks to Ernesto. “We won’t be gone too long.”
“You got it,” he replies with a tilt of his head.
My arms cling over my thin shirt, the freezing fall breeze pushing past us both while we scale the sidewalk and duck into the Blackthorne Lifestyle Club. I used to make up excuses in my head to not meet Carter here, but now it’s my favorite place to play.
He ushers me into our room and shuts the door, making sure it’s securely locked before turning to face me. Carter is all but salivating at the sight of my body, even while wearing simple denim jeans and an oversized white blouse. Still, he begs to be turned on, and I’m the fix he’s looking for.
All that matters now is what toy to use. The wall is filled with them, including a few that are laid in baskets around the room. There’s also a wardrobe near the back, filled to the brim with lingerie that I couldn’t fit in the closet at his penthouse. He could have me do anything right now, and I gladly would, my panties damp and getting damn near soaked quickly.
“Go to the pole,” he demands, dragging a chair to the edge of the stage.
I try not to give away my true feelings about the stripper’s pole in the middle of the room. It’s never my first choice, or even close to my favorite, but I think that’s why he likes to use it every so often. He is addicted to making me feel flustered, begging for me to blush and delve back into my shyness.
But, of course, I don’t argue with Carter Blackthorne.
I step onto the platform and wait for further instructions. He falls back into the chair, legs outstretched with the material of his pants tight against his crouch. He leans his chin into his palm, his elbow bent against the armrest of his chair.
“Take it all off, dove.”
I slide out of my shirt first, my nipples erect from the cold Manhattan air outside. He looks rather amused by the sight of my chill, my arms delicately trying to cover myself up as I slowly step out of my pants and panties.
Kicking everything off the side of the stage, Carter watches me like a hawk.
“Grab the pole, Bella, and put your back against it.”
My brows knit at his command. “Okay…”
I do as he says, standing right against the pole, at least happy that I don’t have to spin around it like an exotic dancer. I certainly don’t have the skills to perform like that, so this is much easier. He sits up straighter, leaning forward while his eyes draw over every inch of my body.
“Cross your wrists behind you,” he adds. “Behind your back and behind the pole, too.”
Again, I follow his instructions, unsure of what he’s planning.
“Kneel,” he adds in a heavy exhale.
I have to be very careful with my movements, making sure my hands stay right where they are and keeping my back pressed to the pole. I kneel, the cold bar pushed against the seam of my ass, only adding to the chill that ignites over my heated skin.
While I’m propped up on my knees, Carter finally stands, walking to the front of the platform until he is just an inch or two away from me. I stare up at the tall posture of the man I love, wishing he would just get naked already and put my trembling desire to bed.
If there’s anything Carter Blackthorne is good at, it’s making my body pulsate with constant sexual need.
He strips out of his coat as if on cue and tosses it to the floor with my clothes. His shirt comes off next, his perfectly carved abdomen taut from the restraint he’s displaying right now.
Instead of reaching for his pants, he strokes my face, tipping my head back against the pole and yanking my chin up as high as it will go. I strain all over, fighting to stay put, but he’s making it damn near impossible!