A Stripper and a Sweetheart

3 | The Back Room

Everett

"You ready baby girl?" I ask Sang, holding her hips while she steps into the sky-high heels James always forces her to wear. I gotta admit though, they make her legs look fucking delicious.

"Always," she grins, sending a flirty wink my way. I growl low in my throat, wondering how pissed James would be if I made both of us late for our slots by having my way with Sang right here in the dressing room. Growling lowly I press her back against the wall, revelling in her light giggle as she reaches her fingers behind my head to run through my messy red hair.

"I need to cut it." I say, trailing my own hands up her side which is thankfully completely uncovered as she hasn't put on the tiny doctor's coat yet. All she's wearing is that glittery gold lace and the heels I want to feel pressing against my spine with her legs wrapped around me.

"Don't," she answers, tightening her grip on my hair as she pleads at me with those bright greens I can't ever deny. "I like this length. It's short still but more than enough for me to pull when we're..." she trails off and I growl again, pushing against her body so she can feel my hard length poking her stomach.

"When we're what, gorgeous?" I nuzzle my nose into her neck, inhaling her cotton candy scent. "Dancing?"

"Ev," her voice trembles. "We don't have time. We're starting in like two minutes."

"Answer the question." I ignore the statement. James can punish me if he wants, I love it when I get her all hot and bothered. "If it's not dancing, what could it possibly be? When we're serving drinks? When we're entertaining clients?"

"Everett," she says, trying so hard to sound forceful but I know her too well. My lips brush her earlobe as I whisper.

"When we're fucking?"

"Oh God," she whimpers and I know I've won. Sang uses her hold on my skull to pull my face to hers, crashing her lips against mine hard. Immediately I drop my hands to her thighs, lifting her and pressing her by her back against the wall. Those shapely legs wind around my waist and my cock is perfectly nestled against her center.

I rock forward, her panties and my jeans the only thing separating us and we both moan, tongues clashing and sliding against one another. I love the taste of this girl so much. It's exactly like the candy she smells of but with the faintest hint of grape, and some type of expensive whiskey. So many flavors I don't even have the brain power to recognise when she's kissing me, my mind wrapped completely around giving her pleasure and the pleasure she doesn't even realise she gives me. I'm rocking harder and faster, loving the way she scratches my scalp and tugs on my hair.

From experience, I know that we both have amazing stamina – but her breathy little gasps between kisses, the tightening of her shapely legs around my waist, the pressure of her hot center against my aching cock and the way she uses her fingernails to massage my scalp I feel like I'm moments away from combusting. I don't want to cum in my jeans because I know I won't have enough time to change before getting up on stage but fuck she feels too good to stop what I'm doing.

There's nothing that can halt me at this point from continuing to rut into Sang Sorenson like an overexcited teenage boy, and nothing that can prevent the orgasm I'm going to have and -Jesus- hopefully give her against the wall in the girls' dressing room. Nothing at all...