Chained Desire

Chapter |6|

C A I T L I N ‘ S P. O. V

It’s the same old shtick each time, just a different costume.

The black latex makes a farting noise every time I move, but beneath the blaring music I doubt anyone but me can hear it.

Still it makes it difficult to put on a good show and not burst out laughing.

The black lace mask tickles my nose, probing the violent urge to sneeze as a bunch of drunk guys in the first row cheer me on, turning wild as the sprinklers turn on to douse me.

I f*****g hate this part, cursing the stupid i***t who thought it was a good eyes to drench the girl wearing a mask.

My vision blurs, forcing me to turn and drop down just to wipe my face. I catch the DJ’s eyes, who mouths get up and go, desperate for his greedy share of the tips.

Sighing, I pull myself up, dazzling them with a smile and make my way into the crowd. A cute guy sits in the first row, a wad of money fanning out for me to take. I snatch it up, stuffing the bills into my bra before the water can taint them.

Yet as I swing a leg over to straddle him, I can feel a pair of eyes on me. It shouldn’t be anything different, I have the attention of every man in the room, but for some reason this man has captured my attention too.

I peek over the guy’s shoulder, letting him savour the feeling of my breasts pushed against his chin, to seek the object of my interest.

There in the dark. He’s tall, I can tell that much but his face remains obscured in the dark, hidden in the back booth.

Fuck, I can’t even get close enough to see because I’m only supposed to dance for the first few rows.

A strange sense of disappointment washes over me - until I realise I’m pathetic. Wanting to please a guy who probably only wants a cheap dance or a quickie.

I shake my head, forcing my attention back on the handsome blonde guy that stares up at me in total awe.

A baby, or fresher as the girls call them. New to the whole stripper experience, engrossed in this strange exciting world. They tip beautifully, which is proved by the bills that keep raining down on me.

I pocket them into my thong, before moving onto another guy. My eyes glance towards the back of the room again but disappointment floods in as I realise he’s gone.

Probably figured he wouldn’t be able to cop a feel without fronting serious cash and left to find some cheap p***y.

Whatever, focus on the job Caitlin.

I end my shift with another 30 minutes of working the floor. By the time it’s over, most of the guys leave or filter in paid rooms where the girls give them private shows.

My hair is dried by the time I’ve managed to peel the latex from the body. I use a wipe to remove the smeared makeup away and the body glitter that’s impossible to get off.

“Knock, knock,” Mellie says, grimacing at the latex that’s piled at my feet. “Ugh, that’s the worst outfit.”

“Tell me about it. Gonna have to talk to Danielle about that s**t. I can’t wear it again. Wait, why are you…”

“Sorry girl, client asked specifically for you. Geneva says you better get your ass in room 3 in five minutes.”

“f**k,” There goes my pleasent evening of eating left over Chinese and finishing the last of the cookie dough ice cream. “Anything specific?”

“No, not a fussy one. I’ll let him know that you’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Sighing, I reach out towards the rack, grabbing a comfortable baby blue set. My hair is a mess and there’s no way I’m putting makeup back on.

I can already feel myself breaking out.

Maybe I should do a dark show? It’s a strain on my eyes but I’m pretty good at navigating around the room now and it always adds a thrill of excitement for the guy - gets them off faster and I don’t have to watch them do it.

Geneva is waiting for me by the door, that stupid smirk frozen on his face. “Give him a good show. Anything he wants.”

“Anything?” The insinuation is pretty clear but so was our agreement that I would only f**k two clients a month. That’s already been capped.

“Let me be clear Lilliana,” I wince as he grips my wrist in a stronghold. “If he tells you to bend your body like a contortionist and choke on his f*****g c**k at the same time, you’ll do it. If he wants to f**k that tight ass, you’ll let him do it. I own you, and I’m lending you to him for a night, don’t you ever forget that.”

Reaching up, he grips my chin in a tight hold, digging his nails in. “Got it?” I nod, biting my tongue until I taste blood. “Good. Now give him the best night of his goddamn life.”

I twist the door open, flicking the lights off to immerse in darkness. A soft glow of moonlight filters from the cracked curtain, casting the guy into a shadow.

The familiar chill I felt whilst dancing creeps up my spine, causing the hairs to stand on edge. “I like dancing in the dark. The mystery and the thrill of it all amplifies sensation. Without your sight, you’re forced to rely on other senses, heightens touch, and taste and smell.”

I hear a creak, most likely his hand gripping the chair arm which means it’s working. Moving towards him, I let my heels echo, causing his breath to quicken as I get closer.

Settling my hand on his, I trace the thick vein that runs up his forearm, until I reach the shirt. It’s pushed up to the elbow, and I let it guide me to the narrow buttons on his shirt.

I pop the first three, dipping my head down to taste the sweat on his skin. It exudes masculinity, making me desperate to try his lips.

My hands explore his face, smiling, I feel the soft stubble of his beard and thick strands of shoulder length hair that let me envision a rugged woodsman and not the balding middle aged brokers I’m expected to sleep with.

Maybe in the dark, I get to have some fun too. Immerse myself in a fantasy where I’m in control, I have dominance and power.

He’s letting me have it, not uttering a word as I gently touch him in the least s****l ways, slowly, taking my time. I grab his hand, placing it on my hip, and he squeezes it. The only form of communication I’ve had from him.

“It’s okay, you know. You can touch, that’s what I’m here for.” My tongue dances along his ear, fingers dancing down towards his thigh. “To please you.” I feel his throat throb, a soft groan expelling into my mouth, before I kiss him.

It’s the most delicate thing I’ve ever felt and yet the most powerful.

His lips mould around mine, becoming this perfect match that ties us together. We’re trapped in time, our own little bubble, that’s only broken when he shifts up, c**k pressing against my clit so hard I moan.

A genuine pleasurable moan. I pull back, slightly shocked and in awe at the foreign sound.

Then laugh, tears pricking my eyes that it stifles in my throat, forcing sobs to overtake. “God, I’m sorry.”

I try to wipe the tears away but they don’t stop. Coming in unrelenting waves, dousing us both.

His hand reaches up, stroking my hair in a strange intimate manner. I don’t even know if I’m looking right at him, but I can feel him. His gaze is so piercing that it penetrates the soul I keep locked away during these moments.

“It’s okay love, don’t be sorry.” That voice…that accent, that…

I reach over, switching the light on.

It’s sharp and blinding for a second, obscuring my vision as streaks flash across my retinas. I blink heavily, and he comes to light, stilling my heart in its pace.

Knox Carter.

His hair is a little longer, framed around his face and dusts his shoulders, and there’s a tiredness weighing him down that comes with age. But those eyes…emerald sparkling, or maybe I was the only one who ever saw that because I was infatuated with the man.

There’s a tiny scar on his upper lip from the only person who ever got close to killing him. My brother.

He found me. I don’t know whether to run, to cry or to laugh. I don’t know if this is real because he’s frozen too, studying me with the same intensity that I reach out for a second and touch his cheek.

Suddenly he’s revived, hand shooting out to grip my wrist but not with the same callousness as Geneva, but tender, cradling it delicately as though I might shatter into a million pieces.

“Caitlin?” How the f**k do I play this? Pretending to not know? Or fold and divulge the whole truth?

The problem is Aaron can’t find out, not when there’s so much on the line.

Unless he already knows? In that case, it’s time to run

“Sorry sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just needed a moment, I’ll get back to the dance.” My hand outstretches to switch it off again but he pulls back, inadvertently brushing up against my p***y.

Fuck, I feel myself flame at the cheeks. This is my teenage fantasy coming true, Knox Carter rubbing against me.

“It’s really you,” His fingers graze my hair, twirling the foreign blonde strands.

“How did you find me?” I was so careful at the start, always covering my tracks, never staying in one place too long. This was the exception and now it’s come to bite me in the ass.

“I didn’t. I mean I wasn’t even looking, f**k why are you…”

Then suddenly it sets in. Realisation. And as I watch it dawn over him, I know I could never go back home. Face Aaron and Kiara with the truth of what I’ve become.

A stripper, an escort, an embarrassment.

Shame floods through despite knowing I needed to do this to survive. To stand a f*****g chance in the world and to protect my friend.

Knox will ruin that. He’s Aaron’s best friend, right hand man and there’s no way the bastard will just keep quiet.

I do the only plausible thing I can think of.

Standing up, I grab the glass on the side table and smashes it. The fragments slice at my skin, drawing blood, but the pain is dulled by adrenaline that fuels me.

I grab the largest shard and press it firmly against his throat. My knee settles between his thigh, jamming against his c**k.

I smile at the strangled groan that wrenches from his throat. He’s the enemy right now, and I can’t let him ruin what little I’ve got.

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A/N: What do you think Knox will do now?