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1270 Words
Sugar felt herself getting aroused just by the way the man looked at her. Even though she wasn't undressed yet, his gaze seemed to pierce into the very depths of her being. And whether she admitted it or not, she liked it.
How had this happened? Never in her life had she felt this way about a client. She was never attracted to them. But this man—there was something different about the way he looked at her.
The slow music filled the dimly lit room. The man, seated on a plush couch, was stroking his hard shaft, and to Sugar’s eyes, it was massive—hard, huge, and long. Her body swayed in rhythm with his movements, his hand moving up and down his length.
Sugar bit her lip as she imagined how good it would feel to have him inside her. She had never felt this kind of desire for a man before. Usually, when men used her body for pleasure, all she felt was disgust and regret. But this man—there was something different about him. His intense gaze told her so. He might be paying for her company tonight, but something about the way he looked at her made her heart race.
Sugar was about to unhook her bra when the man stopped her.
"Just leave it like that. You don’t have to be naked. Just dance and make me c*m," he said in a deep, authoritative voice.
Sugar wanted to protest. This man was insane. He wanted to finish but didn’t want to see her naked? How was that supposed to work? Was he expecting to climax just by watching her dance sensually? If that was the case, she had to do her best.
She turned around, letting Fabian get a full view of her round, bouncy backside.
Damn! I want to spank that sexy butt!
The thin strings of her lingerie barely covered her most intimate part. With just one pull, Fabian could expose everything. He wanted to, but he held himself back.
Fabian groaned internally as he imagined those curves bouncing on his shaft. He quickened his strokes, his body aching with need. He wanted to do so much to this woman, but he restrained himself. He wanted to see if he could be satisfied just by watching her dance.
In his mind, Fabian didn’t need to touch her to reach his peak. Maybe if he came just by watching her, this insane desire for her would finally fade. That was why he had paid for her company for the entire week—he needed to figure this out. If not, he would deal with it later. For now, he was going to enjoy her presence.
She moved closer—not too close, but enough for him to catch her scent. A mix of strawberries and summer. It wasn’t an overpowering scent, but for some reason, it made him even harder.
"s**t," he cursed under his breath, feeling his climax approaching. He wasn’t ready yet.
He squeezed his balls, trying to hold it back. He wanted to watch her dance a little longer.
She swayed between his spread legs, close enough to tease but not enough to touch. His pants were pushed down, his arousal fully exposed as he stroked himself.
The tip of his shaft was just inches from her backside, and it was driving him insane. Fabian wanted to close his eyes and savor the pleasure, but he couldn’t look away from her flawless curves. She moved expertly, as if she were grinding on him without making contact.
Fabian stroked faster. His arousal was so intense it was almost painful.
He shut his eyes, bracing for release.
One. Two. Three strokes—and he growled in pleasure. His essence spurted onto her backside, thick and warm, dripping down to her inner thighs. But she kept dancing, unfazed by the sticky liquid on her skin.
His release painted her flawless skin, and the sight drove him wild. But what made him even more insane was when she wiped his essence off her body and seductively licked it from her fingers, closing her eyes as if savoring the taste.
"Damn. You're such a tease," Fabian muttered, breathless. He was still riding the high of his release. The pleasure was incredible. He wondered what it would feel like to finish inside her. He bet it would be even more satisfying. But he wouldn’t go there.
"That’s what you paid for, handsome," she said seductively, still licking her fingers.
Fabian’s expression darkened. The moment she said those words, he was reminded of what she really was—just a woman who entertained men for money.
His jaw clenched. What a slut. They’re all just after money. His anger flared. This woman would do anything for the right price. s*x. Blowjobs. Stripping. Anything for a few bills. And he hated that about her.
For a moment, he had forgotten that she was just a stripper he picked up to satisfy his lust.
"Get out. Fix yourself and leave," he ordered coldly, tucking himself back into his pants.
Sugar was stunned by the sudden dismissal. She felt a sharp sting in her chest. She was used to men treating her this way after getting what they wanted, but this time, it hurt more. She had always accepted that her job was to please men like him, but something about this night felt different.
She adjusted her lingerie, grabbed an envelope from the table, and tossed it onto the liquor-strewn surface.
"Come back tomorrow. Don’t be late." Fabian took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. His eyes were unreadable, the intensity from earlier completely gone. Now, his gaze was cold, indifferent. He downed a drink, no longer looking at her with the same hunger.
Sugar hesitated. Should she take the envelope? It was her payment, right? For the first time, she felt ashamed to accept money after pleasing a man.
"I paid for your services for the whole week. Don’t you dare f*ck another man aside from me," he said, his tone laced with insult.
That was the last thing he said before walking away, leaving Sugar standing there, still in shock. He was nothing like she had imagined. His personality was the complete opposite of his handsome face.
She placed a hand on her chest, as if trying to calm the strange ache inside her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself not to cry. No, she wasn’t going to cry over an asshole.
"It’s okay. What matters is that you have money to bring home to Pia," she reminded herself.
But it hurt. For the first time, she felt ashamed of herself. She was ashamed of what she had done and ashamed that he knew exactly what kind of woman she was.
She bit her lip, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. She had been humiliated, and she hated herself for feeling something she had never felt before.
With a heavy heart, she walked away from that place.
For the first time in her life, she regretted what she had become. She regretted selling her body and soul for money.
But she knew regrets wouldn’t change anything.
She gripped the envelope tightly in her hand.
No matter how much she tried to fight it, a single tear slipped down her cheek.
She let herself drown in sorrow.
Because this was who she was.
She had to accept it.
She was nothing more than a tool—something men used for pleasure and discarded when they were done.
- Writer
