Chapter 2
645 Words
Nyah
The moment our eyes met, I felt it.
Like a blade grazing skin—sharp, cold, and terrifyingly intimate. His stare wasn’t like the others. It didn’t ogle. It claimed.
He sat like a man used to power, like the world bent for him without question. Black suit. Clean jaw. Cold blue eyes that didn’t blink. Like a wolf staring down a lamb he was already tired of chasing.
Look away, my brain whispered.
But I couldn’t.
Because even from across the room, I felt him wrapping around my throat like silk-covered steel. Every roll of my hips, every sway of my breasts… it wasn’t for the crowd anymore. It was for him. The air shifted. My skin tingled. My n*****s hardened, not from the chill—but from the heat blooming between my thighs.
No. f**k no.
I knew better. Men like him—entitled, lethal, with more power than decency—were poison. They didn’t want women like me. They wanted control. Ownership. A body they could buy and break.
And yet…
When I slid down the pole, spine arched, eyes shut tight, all I could feel was him watching. Like he was already there—right behind me—gripping my hips, whispering filth against my neck.
I snapped out of it and stormed off stage the second the set ended. No lingering for tips. No flirty smile. I needed distance.
I pushed through the curtain, heart racing, skin flushed, my entire body betraying me.
“What the hell was that?” I hissed under my breath.
I leaned against the mirror in the dressing room, sweat slick on my chest. My fingers trembled as I peeled the tiny sequin thong from my hips. And between my thighs… God, I was soaked.
I’d danced for senators. Celebrities. Drug lords, probably.
But no one had ever looked at me like that. Like they already owned me. Like I didn’t get a choice.
There was a knock.
My head snapped up.
Another knock—slow, steady. Too calm.
“Occupied,” I called, already reaching for my robe.
The door creaked open anyway.
“Didn’t ask.”
My breath caught.
He stepped inside like he belonged there. No hesitation. No apology. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing me in with the most dangerous man I’d ever seen.
It was him.
The man from the stage.
Up close, he was worse—better. Tall. Sculpted jaw. A darkness in his eyes that promised ruin.
I pulled the robe tighter across my chest, heart thudding.
“You can’t be in here,” I said. Tried to sound firm. I didn’t. “This is staff-only.”
He stepped closer, his voice low, velvet and sin.
“Do you always dance like that, or was it just for me?”
My legs nearly buckled.
“You need to leave.”
He stopped just in front of me—close enough that I could smell the expensive cologne on his neck and feel the heat rolling off him.
“I saw the way you looked at me,” he whispered. “You felt it too, didn’t you?”
I shook my head. “I feel nothing.”
He smiled. Slow. Dangerous.
“Liar.”
Then he leaned in. His hand came up—not to touch me, not yet—but to brush his knuckles against the mirror beside my head.
“Tell me your name.”
“No.”
“I’ll find it out anyway.”
His breath was warm on my skin. “But it’d sound so much sweeter from your lips.”
I should’ve slapped him. Should’ve screamed, shoved, run.
But all I could do was feel—his presence crawling over my skin, lighting every nerve on fire.
“You can’t have me,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened.
“We’ll see.”
- Writer
