Chapter 8
993 Words
Alexander’s pov
As I made my way to the private room, l could feel the familiar energy buzzing through the club. The dim lights, the slow pulsing of the music, the scent of alcohol, and the expensive perfume mingling in the air, all ignited a dark thrill in me. The room itself was tucked away, isolated from the main floor. It was quiet here, the bass of the music a soft thrum in the background.
I sank into the plush leather chair, draping my arm over the backrest as I waited. My mind still raced with thoughts of my father, his smug face, and the rage simmering beneath my skin. But this place of secrecy, the seduction-always managed to soothe the beast within me. For a little while, at least.
Moments later, the door opened softly, and I looked up, my gaze sharp. There she was, the stripper I had requested.
She moved with a slow, deliberate grace as she stepped into the almost dark room. She was masked, as they often were, but something about this one felt different. She wasn't overly confident and didn't seem desperate like the others. There was a subtle hesitance in the way she carried herself, but at the same time, a quiet fierceness radiated off her. Her body was covered in sheer fabric that clung to her curves, and her cleavage was also in full display, leaving just enough to the imagination. It was perfect, exactly the kind of challenge I enjoyed.
She didn't speak, didn't make eye contact, but I could feel the tension crackling in the air between us, thick and electric. Her lips parted slightly, a hint of nervousness showing through, but she quickly composed herself. With a subtle sway of her hips, she moved toward the center of the room, just in front of me, bent slowly towards the table, and picked up the remote control.
The music shifted, and slowed, and she began to dance.
At first, it was slow, sensual. Her body swayed and undulated with the rhythm, each movement designed to pull me in, to make me want more. And it was working.
She ran her hands up the length of her body, arching her back as she slid her fingers through her hair, the mask covering most of her face except her eyes. Those dark, alluring eyes that seemed to see right through me.
She dropped down slowly, her knees barely grazing the floor as she swirled her hips, her gaze locked onto mine now. There was a fire in her eyes, a mixture of naivety and defiance. I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, watching her every move with predatory intent. She seemed like a good performer and I loved to be entertained.
She slowly turned her back to me, rising back up with a roll of her spine, her hands trailing down her thighs as she swayed her hips from side to side. My throat went dry. She was teasing me, and damn, she was good at it. Even though I couldn't see her face, l could tell she knew exactly what she was doing.
Her hands glided over her body again, slower this time, more deliberate, and then she glanced over her shoulder, giving me a glimpse of that smirk under the mask. She was testing me, pushing me to the edge, daring me to make the first move. And I loved it.
I could feel my control slipping, my wolf stirring beneath my skin, clawing to break free. She was pulling something primal out of me, something dangerous. But I held back, watching her with an intensity that I knew she could feel.
With a sharp twist of her hips, she was facing me again, this time coming closer. So close I could almost reach out and touch her. She leaned down, her hands gripping the back of the chair on either side of me, her breath hot against my neck. I didn't move, but my pulse quickened, the heat between us almost unbearable.
"You like this, don't you?" Her voice was a whisper, teasing me.
From the sound of her voice, I could tell she was nervous. And that only turned me on more.
I clenched my fists, the leather under my palms tightening as I fought the urge to grab her, to claim her right there. But I couldn't, wouldn't give her that satisfaction. Not yet.
I couldn't shake off the fact a common stripper was having this much effect on me.
She moved away, her fingers barely grazing my jaw as she danced back, the heat of her body leaving a lingering sensation on my skin. She was testing my patience, pushing me to the brink, and enjoying every second of it.
I stood up slowly, towering over her as she danced, my body tense with the desire to take control. But she didn't flinch. She kept moving, kept swaying to the music, her gaze locked onto mine, daring me to act.
"You don't even know what you're playing with," I murmured, my voice deep and dark.
Her smile deepened under the mask, a small, defiant tilt to her lips.
"Maybe I do," she whispered back.
There it was. That spark. That challenge.
I stepped closer, towering over her now, and for a moment, she paused, her breath catching in her throat. She might have been naive, but there was no mistaking the heat between us. And it was only a matter of time before one of us broke.
My fingers brushed her arm, slowly, deliberately, as I leaned in, my mouth close to her ear.
"You're playing with fire," I growled softly, my lips barely grazing her skin.
She shivered, but she didn't pull away from my touch.
Instead, she looked up at me, her eyes dark and full of something wild, something untamed.
"I like the heat," she whispered back, her voice soft but fierce and seductive.
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