I want her to know.
She stands in front of the pole before reaching out to grasp it. I exhale, only worried about one thing.
You cannot come in your pants right now.
chapter thirty-one
Summer
My ex-husband made me believe I was a troll. He would force me to do things I wasn’t comfortable with in the bedroom, and I did it because I wanted him to love me. I wanted to be his dream girl.
I genuinely looked into plastic surgery after I found out he’d cheated on me. I even booked a consultation with a well-known surgeon in LA.
I went to the appointment. I told them I wanted a nose job, a chin implant, Botox, lip filler, a boob job, and whatever else they could finance me for. The nurse looked horrified when I started listing so many things off at once.
I remember the surgeon sitting me down and telling me, “There’s nothing wrong with altering your body surgically, if it’s for the right reasons. Did you happen to get cheated on or dumped recently?”
Thankfully, I was honest and told them my reasons were due to the harsh PTSD of getting cheated on by someone who I’d thought was my forever person, who I loved with all my heart. They sent me home and told me to come back in six months if I still wanted the work done.
It was actually the nurse in that doctor’s office who had toldme to try pole-dancing lessons to gain my confidence back. I signed up for classes that same day and took them for five months.
I’d never hated my body or my face before then. My mother was a very loving and uplifting woman. She would always tell me that I was beautiful and that any girls who were mean to me were just jealous.
Standing here now, about to pole dance for an audience of one, feels like a monumental moment of retribution.
I don’t know if I’m doing this more for him or for me, but all I know is that I feel so damn powerful. I know I look good, and judging by the clear bulge in his pants, he’s already affected as fuck, just by seeing me in the lingerie he picked out.
I love knowing he picked it out, just for me to wear.
I’m a little rusty, so I start with a few easy moves. It feels incredible when I finally lift up off the floor and twist myself around the pole. The music fuels my movements, making me feel erotic and sensual.
I twist my body around, twirling until I’m panting. I’ve always been flexible, and I grew up doing competitive dance in California. I flip my body upside down, spreading my legs so that I’m in a full split.
After a few minutes, I hear him rise from the bed. I watch his dark shape moving toward me. My belly tickles, and I finally flip back up. He stops a few feet away, watching me slide back around the pole until my feet hit the ground.
I’m panting softly, and a thin sheen of sweat is covering my skin. I finally look up at him, wetting my lips.
He’s gazing at me like I just did something far more impressive than a simple pole dance with a split at the end. His chest is moving up and down, like he’s struggling to breathe. His fingers move first, reaching for the hem of the lace.
I hold my breath as his touch trails over my thighs, reachingaround to the back to grip my ass cheeks. He squeezes hard, his erection poking my stomach.
I don’t know how I ended up here, in Dayton’s penthouse. I swore I wouldn’t give in to him. Now he’s exploring my body with his touch and sending shivers up my spine.
“You’re the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, wrapping his whole mouth around my shoulder and biting me, softly at first and then harder. “I want to taste every inch of your skin.”
I wanted to talk first. I promised myself we would talk. But then I got here, he poured the wine and started the music, and now all I want is to feel him inside me. I’m on my period, so I doubt he’s going to want to mess with that.
I want to go down on him.
I want to keep the power trip I’m on going.
I drop to my knees, grabbing his waistband as I go. As soon as his cock springs free, I wrap my hands around the base and suck the tip between my lips.
He groans above me, reaching for the pole to steady himself. I pump my lips over him several times, coating his length with my saliva. His dick is the perfect size and shape, filling me to the brim each time I suck him in. I choke when he’s too far in, his head pushing against the back of my throat.
He grips my hair, guiding me over him.
“I’ve pictured you like this, right here, so many times,” he confesses.