Cleo Horan
Fuck.
Just fuck.
My heart was beating so fast that I could hear it echoing in my ears and it seemed like it was about to tear through my chest.
What a fucking turn of events, I was completely shocked the moment my eyes met Harry's across the room. It felt like I was hallucinating and I certainly wanted to believe this was a really bad dream.
But no... I just had to run into the motherfucker right when I was in the middle of work, undercover, and I couldn't simply grab my knife and kill him. But he also couldn't kill me.
That didn't mean he didn't find a way to do something much worse, the moment the waitress called me because Harry himself had asked for a dance, I wanted to stab him in the eye multiple times.
I couldn't say no, people thought I was a new dancer from what Alice had told them, and that was the reason the securities didn't annoy me much when I didn't show them my ID. And I just couldn't blow my cover.
I had a feeling Harry knew I couldn't refuse it, which was why he was having fun and thinking he had the upper hand. I fucking hated coincidences, almost as much as the universe hated me.
The fact he had picked the same club as the one I was supposed to meet Mark was just the last straw. I couldn't describe the amount of frustration and anger I was feeling at the moment, but it was enough motivation to quickly get my job done and get the fuck out of here before anyone else recognized me.
What if Harry told someone about me? Shit, the guy sitting next to him didn't seem to know who I was at all and Harry didn't feel the need to tell, so this had to be a secret joke to him... a little game he thought I'd play along, just us.
He was very fucking mistaken if he thought I'd let him control this situation.
I had to give him the lap dance for professional reasons, but I had to admit I enjoyed the opportunity to analyze more of his behavior. I was surprised that he didn't touch me, but if he thought I'd shy away and refuse so he'd have a reason to expose me, he was very fucking mistaken.
He got the dance he wanted, I made sure he enjoyed it... I hated the way my brain kept replaying over and over again how his hard erection felt pressed against my ass.
I knew I didn't have to go all out for this, but I just had to. The way he was so shameless about how much he was appreciating the dance only made me hate him more, he was lucky my focus was on Mark tonight. I would never accept going home without completing my job and I would never give Harry the satisfaction of winning.
But I was just adding these things to the list of shit he'd pay for later on, his death was becoming more and more painful and slower with his teasing behavior.
What the fuck was his plan? Was he just a sick son of bitch that got off with playing with his enemy? Fuck, but I did the same thing, I added more fuel to the fire when I accepted to dance for him.
I couldn't explain why it felt so exciting though... we literally had our bodies pressed together and we couldn't kill each other the way we wanted to, it was a sick kind of torture and the adrenaline I felt consumed me, taking over my every action and simply spurring me on, I felt like I was in a trance. I fucking hated myself.
This was his fucking fault, I was disgusted by this. I wanted to go home and take a very long shower to wash him off me. Especially where he'd grabbed me on my hips, his fingers dug into my skin desperately as he pulled me even closer to his body so I could feel the outline of his very hard dick right on my ass Stop, Cleo.
