SEVEN: Dancing On Top of Danger

“I’m a really bad dancer, just so you know that.” I stammer as I try to keep up pace with the bald man in a suit. “Like, really bad. I might kick your boss in like—on his chest.” I added and he stopped in his tracks to turn around, lowering his black glasses only to sarcastically raise his brows at me.

“Really? At a lap dance?” He asked and I swallowed the lump in my throat to try and breathe well. “It’s totally possible.” I arrogantly replied. 

Great. This is just great. A personal escort to my doom. I just hope the awkward dance moves are about to be part of the charm.

I could feel harsh lasers piercing the back of my head and I slowly turn around to see the Mayor’s daughter fuming with an employee beside her holding a box of tissues. If that is not a bad omen, I don’t know what is.

God, she must be freaking angry. I’m going to be lap dancing on top of the man she’s desperate to be with.

After the employee stated it was Kokstantin who requested me, it was clear that staying a thousand miles away from the living incarnation of slut Barbie would be the best idea. Especially if she’s already drawn the idea that you might be stealing her man who in reality is not even interested in her.

I bet he has more interest in sending your head to the Mayor just so Daddy would run back and do whatever business with Konstantin himself.

“How is that possible? Why would he want her?!” The Mayor’s daughter snarled that the employee almost—and I really mean, almost quit her job on the spot. “I-I have no idea and-and he wants her n-now.” After she said that, she literally bolted out the backstage door and probably even left the entire building.

After that, this large bouncer knocked and hurried me up. Now, here we are—on my way to the devil with a guided tour.

Well, on the bright side, at least the Mayor’s daughter wasn’t able to see whoever’s underneath the mask. 

My heart feels like it’s about to leap out of my chest any moment now as the distance between him and me was slowly closing in. 

He was still staring at me. Those blood red eyes reminding me of what I will become if I fucked this plan up. 

His gaze was a physical touch in itself, an unspoken command that’s making my knees weak apart from my own ankle being twisted. I’m trying to focus on anything else—the music, this large bouncer leading me towards him, the laughter—but my body has long been so acutely aware of him. 

It’s responding to his presence with a need I couldn’t control. It’s terrifying.

“Come.” he mouthed from afar, twisting the glass of scotch in his hand. It was a silent command to which I had no choice but to follow. 

The party around us was so loud but the silence boiling between the two of us was deafening. The way he’s looking at me with that mix of intensity and danger made me feel exposed—so goddamn exposed.

“Here she is.” The bouncer then subtly bowed his head and offered his hand to introduce me. “The dancer you needed,” he added. 

“A dancer, huh?” He raised his brows before running his eyes up and down on me. I feel conscious, bare, and exposed to the fullest.

I shouldn’t have entered that room. I really should not have entered there.

A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes lingered. My nipples tightened under the thin fabric of my costume andI crossed my arms, trying to hide the evidence of my arousal. Konstantin’s gaze did not miss that and a smirk slowly curved his lips.

He strays his eyes off of my trembling body and looks up at the bouncer. “Leave.” he commanded and the man left with no questions asked. 

Now it was just me and him. Konstantin Morozov and his prey. My mouth went dry, and I bit my lil, trying to steady my thoughts. It’s alright, nothing’s gonna happen. I’m going to get out of here alive and safe.

“Sit.” he growled and opened his embrace. Time stopped to a halt as I looked down on his free lap. Sitting there feels like the only signature needed to sell my soul to the devil.

“Didn’t you see how I danced on the stage? I really can’t dance and—” 

“I said sit.” he snarled once again, this time, a lot more predatory—as though would be suicide not to oblige.

I could feel my heart clawing out of my flesh, trying to pump out of my body. My mind is going haywire and the spiked Tequila from earlier was beginning to cloud my senses.

So I straddle his lap, like he told me to. Like a good fucking girl who’s at his beck and call. To kneel, would be to kneel, and to suck would be to suck. That’s how my fear was driving me right now. 

The moment I sat down on his lap, all I wanted to do was stand back up and run. Run as far as I can.

Shit, why did I do this?

“You’re shaking, why is that?” He growls against my ear as I try to stand on my own muscles. He grips my behind and I gasp as he drags me down and closer, closer to his length which screams horror. I feel the heat of his body radiate through the thin clothing separating our skin from touching.

“I just really can’t dance, t-that’s all.” I breathed out. The dim lights of the club cast a sultry glow, and the heavy beat of the music thrummed through my veins.

God, why do you hate me?

He circles his finger on my exposed back, running his hand on the newly healed wounds. I saw lots of the other dancers had something to hide of their own, so I got comfortable exposing them with this bare costume.

“You know what’s better than dancing?” he murmurs, his cold breath fanning my ears. I push myself back to look at him. 

“W-what?” I reply, shifting my eyes between those dark red eyes. The more I look at them, the more cunning and ruthless they get. 

“Grind.” he orders, this time, without the comforting playful smirk. My eyes widened and before I knew it, Konstantin Morozov laid back, placing both of his hands on the armrest as he watched my every move with a hunger that made my pulse race.

Relax, Evangeline. He doesn’t know who you are behind the mask.

I began to move, slowly at first, my hips swaying to the rhythm of the music. The sensation of his hard muscles beneath me sent a jolt of electricity through my core. 

Oh, God. This isn’t how my body should be reacting.

I leaned forward, letting my hair cascade over his shoulders as I arched my back, pressing my almost exposed breast closer to his face. The closeness of our bodies, the friction of my movements heightened the heat coursing through my body.

“That’s it . . .” he leaned his head back, a primal growl slipping out of him like an animal.

This is dangerous. This is so freaking dangerous.

Grinding against him, I felt his arousal growing underneath my thigh—thick and long and extremely hard. From there, a thrill of power coursed through me. His breath hitched, and his eyes darken with desire. I rocked my hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, making sure that my core was hitting his length. 

The spiked tequila was running through my veins and even my sense of danger was leaving my body as I tried to find satisfaction in my arousal in this dance, even if it meant it was on top of the devil’s lap.

A grunt slips past his lips once again accompanied by my loud, heavy breaths as sweat begins to trickle from every pore, oiling me up even more. 

His hands moved to my hips, guiding me, urging me to increase my tempo. And for the first time since I met him, I finally did something I was willing to do without being forced to do so—I obliged.

I moved faster, harder, feeling every contour of his body hardening underneath me. “Yes, fuck!” I whimper. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I could feel the dampness between my thighs as my body responded to his harsh, possessive touch.

The crowd was pooling around us. Konstantin was afterall, in the front seat. They witness as two bodies collide like live p**n.

I leaned back, my hands gripping the back of his chair for support, and rolled my hips in a sensual circle over his hard, erect length. “Fuck . . . ugh!” He growled low and sexy. Konstantin’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh as he watched me with a look of pure lust.

“This was what you wanted, right?” I breathed heavily, staring straight at him as waves of pleasure coursed through me.

I ground harder against him, feeling the pressure building, the tension mounting and with a low growl, he pulled me tighter against him as I grind hard and fast until the heat between us became unbearable and the blazing inferno that threatened to consume us finally lit up as we were both sent to our highest. 

Shit, that was fucking good. Did I really do that?

Konstantin Morozov leaned forward, his lips brushing against my ear, his breath hot and ragged. 

“You seemed like you could dance.” He whispers, his voice thick with need.

“Beginner’s luck.” I mutter with a smirk, still catching my breath. I came. I definitely came in my panties. And God forbid I leave a stain on his pants if I stood up, or if I'll ever be able to stand up.

I place my hand on his neck when I felt something liquid on it. I slowly pull my hand off and the sight of blood instantly woke me out of my aroused daze.

“Is this-is this blood?” I stammer, showing him my hand. He lazily looked down at it. “Don’t worry, it’s not mine.” he smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“That’s supposed to reassure me?!” I exclaimed and he only smirked at me, taking a sip of his scotch.

I got so carried away I forgot who I’m dealing with here.

This is Konstantin Morozov.

Wake up, Eva!

I look around to try and ask for help when hazel eyes found my own from the crowd. I signal him as much as I can that I am stuck and I need help, all while trying to avoid Konstantin Morozov’s prying gaze. 

A little more nudge and he might ask me to remove my mask. I can’t allow that to happen.

I need to escape. Again.

Please let this be a better attempt. A successful one would be great. I catch the man nodding and standing up, walking towards us.

He must be new to not know who Konstantin Morozov is and daring to actually help me, but whatever it is, I am more than glad.

“Hi, I’m Lisa’s manager,” he introduced. Ugh, Lisa. Couldn’t pick a better name?

“I need you backstage right now.” He mutters.

Konstantin tightened his grasp on my waist, casually running his finger on my behind as though to brag towards my so-called manager.

Please let this work . . . 

“Lisa, huh?” he growled, his eyes meeting mine.

“Are you sure that’s your name?” 

Oh shit.