Four

                                    

                                          

Savio
        She's the worst dancer I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing. Her awkward swaying has the sex appeal of a spaghetti noodle, totally disregarding the beat of the music, and she keeps almost falling out of her too-high heels. Any man's balls would have shriveled up and gone into hiding by now. 
So why on earth am I having to shift in my seat to hide the rising profile of my hardening cock?  She gives a tiny, unconscious moan, fighting with the last button on her shirt, and I swallow back a surge of predatory lust. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised; it was long ago that I lost the ability to distinguish between the twin tastes of desire and hate. Ever since my sixteenth birthday, they've melted together into a dark want that fuels all my games: business, the family, and my personal life. I've built my whole life around trying to control that darkness.
For now, I give in to the ache between my legs and play, enjoying how I can stop and start her misery with the slightest of gestures. "Now lap dance." Can she hear the ragged edge to my voice as I picture throwing her down, straddling her hips, shoving my gun into her mouth to stifle her sobs? Her flushed cheeks drain to white. If she breaks and runs, I'll be back to watching her through static photographs, empty of her desperation and doe-like earnestness. 
My description of advance pay stops her in her tracks. The tedious years of staying one step ahead, sabotaging job interviews and paying off restaurant owners, finally deliver results. It is all worth it just to watch the knowledge dawn in her eyes that she has no choice but to offer herself to me in any way I demand.
As she limps toward me, I tell my treacherous cock that I'm getting carried away, one of the sins I hate the most. Those who win in business and in life are those who are willing to wait the longest, watching everyone else succumb to desire and satisfaction. 
And oh, have I waited for her. In my dreams I hurt her, own her, disgrace her in any way I can think of. When I wake up, I return to systematically dismantling her life, waiting for the universe to align and tell me it's time. Until now, the distance between us has helped me maintain control. The completely unexpected way she stumbled, wide-eyed into my club and volunteered to strip for me has sent me into a miniature tailspin I need to correct immediately.
 I snap back to the present and realize that she is standing between my legs, trembling slightly, curled into herself. Her blouse is still lying in a puddle behind her. Up close, I can see how strands of her dark hair tumble across her pale, glowing shoulders. The ache between my legs surges, tangling up my thoughts.
She starts to lean over me, struggling to keep her balance, clearly unsure of what to do. Her eyes glisten with a mixture of fear and concentration, her teeth catching at her lip. In a moment of inspiration, she surprises me by reaching out and tentatively grabbing my tie. The predator in me tears its way free, unchained. Before I can think, my arms leave the back of the bench seat and I lean forward. My left hand brushes the back of her thigh where it emerges from her skirt, teasing the surface of the pantyhose. 
My other thumb brushes her soft lower lip, gathering just a hint of moisture. She freezes, her eyes wide, tempting me onward as I drown in her fear. Hungry to feel her pounding pulse, I trail my finger toward her neck, tracing her delicate jawbone.
Her terrified sob forces me back to reality. Pantyhose tearing slightly under my fingers, she wrenches herself from my grasp and stumbles backward. Her breasts rise and fall with panicked gasps, almost falling out of her bra. Not allowing my blank expression to change at all, I fight to wrest control back from my predator. 
"I'm sorry," she stammers. The disappointment and stress in her voice make sense to me, but the clear panic response is something new, something I missed. I don't miss things. Why didn't I know about this? Rage finally kills my erection as I stand up. She flinches, as if to rub in my face even more that there are things about her I don't know. I need her out of here before I do something I regret. My surveillance team will be taking the brunt of this.