returning from a research trip to a ghost town for some paper Tristan needed to write for a class—and it had been hot, and they had been wanting each other, talking about getting back to the dorms so they could do it, and without warning, Tristan had turned off on some side road and led them deeper into seclusion. And she’d experienced the feral joy of letting her knees dig into the hard ground, having the sun beat down on their bare skin as Tristan plunged his glorious cock into her from behind. They’d fucked like animals that day. Afterward, they’d lain naked on the desert floor in broad daylight, talking, kissing, just enjoying the hedonistic freedom of it.
She sighed at the too-fond memory. Could he be taking her out into the desert again?
Just then, though, the limo turned into a crowded parking lot and through the tinted windows she caught the words Gentleman’s Club in pink neon.
She almost laughed. At the very idea that Tristan had been doing something that could border on sentimental here. At the notion of calling guys who frequent strip clubs “gentlemen”.
When the driver opened the door, Adrianna stepped out boldly, undaunted. She hated to break it to Tristan, but going to a strip club didn’t scare her. Given that she enjoyed women, this wasn’t her first trip to such an establishment.
Tristan said nothing upon exiting the limo behind her—he simply placed his hand on her ass and ushered her to the door. Despite herself, the touch burned through her, making her skin sizzle. And those damn pleasure panties weren’t helping anything, either. Every time she got up after sitting for a while, she was surprised—jarred—by the intense stimulation they delivered. Not enough to make her come, it seemed, but enough to frustrate the hell out of her.
She felt the burly doorman’s eyes on her as Tristan paid, and as they stepped into a large room featuring multiple stages and swirling red and pink lights, other men looked at her too. Even with women dancing in various stages of undress all around them, she managed to draw the customers’ gazes. She found herself hoping Tristan saw, and hoping he regretted losing her all those years ago. A childish, useless thought perhaps, but at the moment she didn’t care. They were playing games tonight—she could play her own games too, if it made her feel better about all this.
With his hand still on her ass, and her clit and anus still being rubbed with every step she took, Tristan directed her to a small, empty table before the main stage. They sat in two plush chairs, and Adrianna focused on the stage where a young woman with long red hair twirled around the pole wearing only sparkly devil horns and a sparkly red g-string complete with a pointed devil’s tail. Her large breasts looked fake but attractive and her red fuck-me stripper shoes added to the whole effect. Given Adrianna’s already intense state of arousal, the sight only added to her frustration, her nipples growing so hard she could feel them rubbing against the fabric of her dress. Like back at the restaurant, every move she made felt sensual somehow—her very limbs felt heavy and burned to touch, to feel, to experience something.
Damn it. She hated that the arousal she’d managed to squelch a little with her anger in the car was already back, full force. Normally, she could sit and watch a girl strip without feeling as if she were going to leap out of her skin, but nothing about tonight was normal.
“Do you like redheads, Adrianna?” Tristan leaned over to ask with a lascivious expression.
“I suppose I like whatever you want me to like,” she replied, unable to keep the dryness from her voice.
He gave her a stern look of warning. “Right answer, wrong attitude,” he told her. “Time to start being a good girl or you’ll regret it.”
She detested his attitude at the moment too, but his words reminded her—again—that her company was on the line here. It was difficult to stay
She sighed at the too-fond memory. Could he be taking her out into the desert again?
Just then, though, the limo turned into a crowded parking lot and through the tinted windows she caught the words Gentleman’s Club in pink neon.
She almost laughed. At the very idea that Tristan had been doing something that could border on sentimental here. At the notion of calling guys who frequent strip clubs “gentlemen”.
When the driver opened the door, Adrianna stepped out boldly, undaunted. She hated to break it to Tristan, but going to a strip club didn’t scare her. Given that she enjoyed women, this wasn’t her first trip to such an establishment.
Tristan said nothing upon exiting the limo behind her—he simply placed his hand on her ass and ushered her to the door. Despite herself, the touch burned through her, making her skin sizzle. And those damn pleasure panties weren’t helping anything, either. Every time she got up after sitting for a while, she was surprised—jarred—by the intense stimulation they delivered. Not enough to make her come, it seemed, but enough to frustrate the hell out of her.
She felt the burly doorman’s eyes on her as Tristan paid, and as they stepped into a large room featuring multiple stages and swirling red and pink lights, other men looked at her too. Even with women dancing in various stages of undress all around them, she managed to draw the customers’ gazes. She found herself hoping Tristan saw, and hoping he regretted losing her all those years ago. A childish, useless thought perhaps, but at the moment she didn’t care. They were playing games tonight—she could play her own games too, if it made her feel better about all this.
With his hand still on her ass, and her clit and anus still being rubbed with every step she took, Tristan directed her to a small, empty table before the main stage. They sat in two plush chairs, and Adrianna focused on the stage where a young woman with long red hair twirled around the pole wearing only sparkly devil horns and a sparkly red g-string complete with a pointed devil’s tail. Her large breasts looked fake but attractive and her red fuck-me stripper shoes added to the whole effect. Given Adrianna’s already intense state of arousal, the sight only added to her frustration, her nipples growing so hard she could feel them rubbing against the fabric of her dress. Like back at the restaurant, every move she made felt sensual somehow—her very limbs felt heavy and burned to touch, to feel, to experience something.
Damn it. She hated that the arousal she’d managed to squelch a little with her anger in the car was already back, full force. Normally, she could sit and watch a girl strip without feeling as if she were going to leap out of her skin, but nothing about tonight was normal.
“Do you like redheads, Adrianna?” Tristan leaned over to ask with a lascivious expression.
“I suppose I like whatever you want me to like,” she replied, unable to keep the dryness from her voice.
He gave her a stern look of warning. “Right answer, wrong attitude,” he told her. “Time to start being a good girl or you’ll regret it.”
She detested his attitude at the moment too, but his words reminded her—again—that her company was on the line here. It was difficult to stay
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