WHERE WE MET

CHAPTER3

Amber's POV

I know this club in and out, so I decline when the waitress, whose name I don't remember, offered to show me where my rabbit had gone,

“Alice, a man named Dimitri said to bring you to him”

Where is he? I ask.

She described the suites at the top of the club. Only special people had access to that area.

Hmmmmm!!

This man just happens to have many surprises up his sleeve.

I make my way up the stairs.

“Last door to your left” the waitress had said.

It seems like he really likes his privacy.

When I got to the door, I expected it to be closed, but it was wide open, and he sat there with his back facing the door as if he was so sure no one could hurt him, even if he was asleep.

The scent of his cologne clouding my senses before I could move closer.

My heels were clanking loudly on the tiled floor announcing my arrival before I had time to talk. So much for the element of surprise.

As I walked into the room he turned to face me, the same expressionless look on his face.

I guess it's up to me to start the conversation again.

I take calculated steps towards my prey. I don’t want him running away again.

It seems funny to me how I'm referring to him as prey, but with the way he's staring me down right now, I know I am the prey. But I’m not scared. He couldn't scare me if he tried. His stare gave me a sort of adrenaline rush.

As I neared his seat he was still motionless. His heaving chest was the only indication that he was obviously as pumped up as I was. I might have assumed he was dead otherwise. I sat on his lap and whispered in his ear.

“What kind of games do we play now, my little rabbit?”

Before I had the time to react, he had his hand on my neck and his lips to my ear.

His lips ajar, his breath tickling the fickle skin behind my ears.

“I’m not here to play games,” he said in the sexiest voice I've ever heard from a man in my 20 years of living.

His other hand was steady on my waist, pulling me closer to him till I was sitting directly on top of his bulge. He still seemed so cold, so distant, that had to change.

I began to move my hips slowly. We were too far from the club to hear whatever song was playing. It was just our heavy breathes echoing in the room.

He still had his hand on my neck and had positioned my face right in front of his so that he was staring into my eyes.

I increased the pace of my hips and started to explore his body with my hands.

I moved my hands slowly from his hair to his neck all the way to his torso, making sure he could feel my stiletto nails through his shirt.

His eyes began following the movement of my hands.

“Do we like that, Mr. Rabbit?”

He still said nothing, just watched my hand move around his torso.

He was still fully clothed in a three-piece suit, but I could feel every bit of muscle underneath all three layers, as if each muscle was carefully but brutally sculpted.

I could only ask myself who comes to a club with a suit, how long one has to work out to be this built. If I ask him, he obviously won't give me an answer, so why waste my questions?

My train of thoughts stopped when his grip on my waist tightened as my hands were getting lower, causing a smirk to creep on my face.

"Someone getting impatient, Mr. Rabbit"?

He started untying the rope at the back of my dress, without answering my question, stopping me from moving my hand any further down.

He successfully undid my semi-corset, causing my dress to come undone as if it were obeying his command.

I was wearing the same lingerie I wore for my performance. From the expression on his face, he seemed surprised that I wasn't naked underneath the short satin dress I was wearing.

He grabbed me by my torso and dumped me on the bed.

He stood at the end of the bed staring at me like I was something he could eat in seconds.

Well, that could be true, but I wasn't about to let that happen.

I crawl towards him and begin to take off his suit. He seemed hesitant at first, like he just wanted to have his way with me and move on, but I persisted.

I reach for his trousers, undoing the zip and button, he flinched slightly when my fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, my gaze never leaving his. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable now. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. That silence, that restraint, was all the encouragement I needed.

I sank to my knees, bringing his trousers with me, dragging my fingers down his thighs in the process.

“Good?” I whispered.

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just above his waistband, then another, a little lower. I could feel his body tense the lower I got.

Slowly, I let my lips brush against him through the thin fabric, barely a whisper of contact, and finally, I heard him exhale.

I tugged the last piece of fabric down just enough, and looked up at him. I took my time, deliberately slow, just enough to make sure he knew who was in control here.

He didn’t seem to like not being in control.

Every movement was a tease, a test. His breath hitched when I had his whole length in my mouth — just for a second — and then I pulled back, lifting the corner of my mouth in a smirk as I looked up at him with mock innocence.

“Not what you expected, Mr. Rabbit?” I asked sweetly.

His chest rose and fell sharply, but still… he said nothing.

I let my hand trail back up his torso, nails dragging over the fabric again as I rose to my feet. I leaned in, close to his ear, so he could feel my breath when I whispered, “Too bad.”

He grabbed me and threw me on the bed this time with more force than the last time. I could see it in his eyes now, lust the desire to be in control. I might have picked the wrong rabbit this night.

He starts to climb the bed, his body intent on having me. Before he could do anything. I looked him in his eyes and said,

"I’m a virgin."

For a split second he was in shock and in that split second I push him to snatch my dress from the floor, and gave him one last look over my shoulder as I reached the door — disheveled, smug, victorious.

“Better luck next time.”

And just like that, I was gone.

I leave him there in shock and run out of the room.

A woman in lingerie running down the halls is not a new occurrence at the club, but I wasn't about to have s*x with some random guy.

Might sound strange, but working in a strip club doesn't make you a w***e.

I've been working here for two years now, and I haven’t really done anything that could be considered s*x.

I might be some cliché lovesick fool, but I want my first time to be special.

I make my way back to the dressing room, get my clothes and leave. That's enough for one night.

It’s 2 am, and I'm still able to get a cab back. Well, that's New York for you.