It comes to her quicker than she imagines possible. Dante is on the edge too, ready to close in.
“Make me come”, Sash pleads, her breathing peaking in shallow, guttural gasps, her fingers moving rapidly to latch onto something before it runs away again. It has been a long time since she’s pleasured herself in this way, and even longer since she’s felt this turned on by it. It’s been a long time too since she’s been able to make herself come so quickly.
“Oh fuck”, Dante says, “Your pussy feels so good.”
“Come with me”, Sash demands, right at the edge of it. “Come inside me.”
“I’m going to come”, Dante confesses, his cock throbbing at the sight of his stepsister already at the point of no return. “Oh fuck, I can’t-”
“Yes, uh, that’s it”, Sash cries, as she imagines her stepbrother’s cock head swelling inside her, her own uncontrollable orgasm about to descend rapidly upon her. “Fuck. Oh fuck, I’m going to come. Fuck.”
The strength of it is more than she expects. As it explodes out from her throbbing sex, sending electric like tingles into every single one of her nerve endings, she can’t help but scream. With her pussy convulsing strongly, her belly spasming hard, and her legs jerking out uncontrollably, she arches herself upwards and then collapses onto her side, folded into a fetal position. As she continues to throb and heave, as though struck down by a bolt of lightning, and trapped momentarily before it decides to eventually leave her, wave after glorious wave of increasing pleasure filters through her body.
The sensation is out of this world. For a moment, she forgets where she is, overwhelmed by a feeling of absolute, unadulterated perfection. She is unable to do anything else but lie there like an epileptic in the throes of a powerful fit, and let it wash over her, her fingers held tightly between her legs and her feet locked together by the ankle, in case moving them might make the sensation too much to bear.
She cannot think for sensitivity. She cannot begin to slow down her thoughts. She is as close to perfection as she has ever come, a sense of fulfillment galloping through her, more real than anything she’s ever felt in the last three years. And then, like a mountain appearing through thinning cloud, she remembers the man on the other side of the glass. The man who she’s shared this with. The man who made her come.
Breathing heavily, like some kind of trapped animal a passer-by might not be able to guess is caught in the wonderful net of pleasure not pain, she risks pulling a hand away from her pussy to press it up against the glass.
Dante sees the gesture. He raises his head, presses his palm against hers and lets out a deep grunt of animalistic need.
Chapter 5
She’s still tingling when she finally collects herself enough to get her clothes back on. Dressed again, she takes one last look through the mirror, desperate to see what she knows she can’t on the other side.
“Well?”
Suddenly Isabella is behind her, and Sash gives a little jump. She hadn’t heard the door open.
“That good, huh?” Isabella says when she sees the color in Sash’s cheeks.
“You scared me”, Sash says.
“The first time is always the best.”
Like an old friend who’s shared the same experience, and knows its special qualities intimately, Isabella takes her arm. “Come on”, she says, guiding her back to the door. “It won’t be too long before you get to do that again.”
Dante is waiting for her out in the foyer, leaning casually over the desk and talking to one of the dancers. Sash collects her coat and eyes her stepbrother suspiciously. The dancer smiles at Sash, before disappearing back into the shadows, swallowed by the belly of the building. Isabella and the girl with the pigtails watch on, as though the only audience members for an intimate performance.
“What are you doing here?” Sash asks him, her voice taut with suspicious curiosity.
“I like to check on all my staff, especially on their first night”, Dante says evenly. “How did you get on?”
“Fine”, Sash says, trying to read him.
“Oh I reckon you did better than fine”, Isabella interjects, one hand around her waist now as if to show her off. “You made one of our clients very happy indeed. That’s a special skill.”
Sash starts to go a little red, but it doesn’t stop Isabella from continuing. “In fact, he was so happy, he even gave you a tip.”
“That right?” Dante says, raising an eyebrow. “A natural, huh?”
“Yeah, right”, Sash says. “Who isn’t a natural at taking their clothes off?”
“Some people just know how to do it with style, that’s all honey”, Isabella says. “So when are you coming back?”
“I don’t know”, she says, turning to her brother. Isabella looks at him too. She has a wide smile across her face like someone who’s already worked out the plot of a mystery novel. Sash sees it and wonders what’s buried there.
“We’ll work something out”, Dante says.
“I hope so”, Isabella agrees. “This one’s quite something.”
“Thank you”, Sash says. She doesn’t know quite how she feels. Her skin is still buzzing under Isabella’s light touch, and she feels almost more naked now than she did with her clothes off. She’s so self conscious, every time someone looks at her, even if it’s only to share a sentiment or a smile, she feels herself go red.
“How much did I make?”, Sash asks. The question itself feels like the dirtiest thing she’s done all night, and because of that, she almost doesn’t ask it.
“Boss?”, Isabella asks theatrically, fluttering her eyelids. “Would you like to pay your new dancer?”
The girl with the pigtails smiles, her chipped tooth catching on her lip again.
For a moment, Sash thinks the ‘your’ in the question is emphasized in a strange way, and then wonders if she’s misheard it completely.
“Sure”, Dante says. “Why not.”
Isabella breaks away from Sash to go and open up the cash register. “Normally the girls have to wait until the end of the week when the accounting is done”, she says, as the cash drawer snaps opens, “but on the first night, we like to make an exception.”
Sash watches her lift out a huge wad of banknotes, before counting them down onto the desk between them. It is more money than Sash has seen for months. It’s certainly more than she’s ever made in a night before, the most ever for dancing.
“A thousand dollars”, she says when she’s done.
“A thousand dollars?” Sash repeats, absolutely stunned. She looks at her stepbrother. Dante shrugs his shoulders.
“You earned it”, he says.
“But a thousand dollars?” Sash says, still in disbelief.
“He’s a good client. He can afford it.”
“How much do I have to pay for the booth?”, Sash asks, suddenly remembering it.
“Oh don’t you worry about that, sweetie”, Isabella says. “He paid for that too. Now, are you going to stare at that all night long or pick it up and put it in your pocket where it belongs?”
Sash looks from the money up to Isabella and then back down to the pile of notes. Quickly, she picks it up and stuffs it into her pocket, in case somehow they’ve made a mistake.