Passion And Fire: Passion Series, #4

By J. A Melville

A flame is a beautiful thing. The way it dances in the shadows.

Bringing joy to others. Glowing brightly…

Flame by name. Fiery by nature.

She too is on the move, from job to job.

This time as a pole dancer.

Aloof. Beautiful.  

Never staying in one place too long.

Never getting attached to anyone.

She is too strong willed for any man to tame her,

And a certain talent she possesses has gotten her into trouble,

on more than one occasion.

Damien is a vampire and notorious womanizer.

Flame becomes his new obsession.

But she's playing hard to get…big time!

He just wants one night with her.

Women are for a good time, never a long time, after all.

The problem is..

Her bite is worse than his.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. A Melville
• Release date: Jun 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386484103

Book preview

Chapter One

Flame

Yeah, in your fucking dreams. I muttered under my breath, not moving my lips. It was a trick I’d learned a while ago. The ability to insult people frequently and without them even being aware I was doing it. This time the one who had earned  my insult was some balding middle-aged man who sat at a table of other over forty year olds. It seemed they were desperately trying to recapture their youth by cat calling and acting like men half their age.

What was it with stupid drunken men sometimes? They thought because they were in a strip club that the women like myself who worked in one, were hot for sex all the time. Or somewhere along the way we’d lost the ability to be discriminating. Or we were blind or perhaps our taste was so far up our asses we’d fuck anything with a dick. That seemed to be the mentality at least.

Come on darl, it’s my birthday, give us a kiss. He called out again and as I swung from the dance pole, my thighs gripping it tightly, I sighed glaring at the table where the rowdy men were. Woohoo, look at those eyes. Hey beautiful, fuck the kiss, come sit on my lap baby and I’ll show you how pleased I am to see you. He called again and this time I didn’t bother looking towards their table.

I concentrated on the music with its heavy beat and continued my routine, tearing off my bra and tossing it to the side with a flourish. The cat calls from the crowd increased and I flashed a fake smile to the audience before gracefully scaling the pole again in preparation for the dramatic finish to my routine. Once I was at the top I turned so I was facing the floor, holding the pole firmly between my thighs, my arms stretched out, back straight as I defied gravity, from my horizontal position.

The cat calls and drunken yells began again, as I hung there, waiting for that one particular change in the music and as it hit its crescendo, I suddenly dropped, plummeting towards the stage floor. I heard the predictable gasps from the audience, but I’d done this routine more times than I cared to remember, and I stopped before I could hit the floor, placing my hands on the highly polished floorboards, before flipping myself upright.

I immediately curled my body around the pole and gyrated, knowing full well that I looked like I was trying to fuck it and when the music finally ended, I slid down to my knees, legs spread, back arched until my head touched the floor, my body curved like a bow, and I turned to the audience again as the lights came up.

As men started crowding the edge of the stage, I stepped forward and suffered my way through them stuffing my sequined thong with money. I tensed when I saw Mr Middle Aged, Think I’m a Stud eagerly waving a few notes at me. Reluctantly I stepped up to him, but as he pushed the money down the top of my thong, he suddenly slipped his other hand between my legs and his fingers shoved their way into my pussy.

I cringed, temporarily frozen with shock before lashing out. I never made contact with him though as his friends pulled him back in time, and that was probably just as well, or I’d lose my job. I was new in town, and I couldn’t afford to lose this job even if I secretly hated it. Well, I didn’t really hate it, just this aspect, the stupid men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.  

Fortunately, Freddie, the club’s bouncer came forward and grabbed the jerk who’d thought it was ok to stick his fingers up my pussy, hauling him away by the back of the neck. I could hear him complaining loudly all the way while his mates trotted after him doing little to try and defend their idiot friend.

I quickly gathered up the fallen money and my bra before running from the stage as the music started to pound through the club again ready for the next dancer.

I shot a quick smile at Melody as she passed me on her way out to the stage and when I finally made it to the dressing room I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled a robe on.

Fuck this job. Ok, it wasn’t so much that I hated the job. It paid well, it paid bloody well, or I wouldn’t bother doing it. Besides the money, it kept me fit, but I could do without the jerks who thought that I was available to be pawed. So many men made the stupid assumption that because I took my clothes off for a living, that I was gagging for it. I danced, I wasn’t on a fucking street corner selling my body. I was a pole dancer which meant look, but keep your hands to yourself.  

Melody came into the dressing room after finishing her routine and threw herself down on one of the chairs; grabbing a pile of tissues to start repairing her makeup, which was running slightly from her sweating while she’d been dancing. That was one of crappier sides of it too, the damned spotlights made us all sweat. I think Danny, the manager of the club did it deliberately because when we sweated, we got a shine up, our bodies glistened, and the men who came to the club seemed to like that. Of course, Danny didn’t think, otherwise he’d have realised that us sweating made it harder to grip the pole or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck.

He was a man and men were fucking idiots. They were only capable of using one head at a time, and most seemed to use the one between their legs more than the one between their ears. I saw examples of that every night that I danced. That idiot from when I’d been about to leave the stage was a prime example. He’d treated me like my pussy was the lucky dip and he was dipping in to collect his prize. The fact he’d had the audacity to do that proved he’d only been thinking with his dick.

I sighed and turned to the mirrors to start reapplying my makeup. We would all have to perform again in an hour, but Danny expected us to work the floor when we weren’t dancing. Apparently it was to make the men happy; or that’s what he called it. I believed it was more a case of using us to turn them on, so they stayed to watch us dance. The longer they stayed in the club, the more money they spent. I hated working the floor because I didn’t have the buffer of the stage to keep the jerks away and I’d get groped so much, I was ready to knee every man in the club by the time I had to dance again.   

I studied my reflection in the mirror; the Hollywood lights over it shining down on my flaming red hair. They made it seem even brighter than it was, tumbling over my shoulders in a riot of curls to just above my waist. Apparently I had the whole Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman thing going on, but it wasn’t something I worked on, it was just the way my hair was. Wild and out of control, a bit like me I suppose. My parents had named me after my hair, flame red hair, so Flame for my name.  

I was thankful that I’d been spared the freckles from head to toe like some redheads had. In fact, my complexion was smooth and creamy, very much the peaches and cream look. I did pour numerous products onto it, to look after it, and I stayed out of the sun since I didn’t tan, I just burned, and I burned horribly. Blotchy red sunburn with my bright red hair was definitely not a good look.

Still from what I’d been told, my eyes were my best feature, big, bright, and green, an emerald green to be exact. Of course, my lashes although long were the same shade of red as my hair so I had them tinted to save me becoming a slave to the mascara.

Due to the nature of my job, I wouldn’t exactly class myself as slim. I wasn’t big, but the level of fitness it required for pole dancing and to perform three sometimes four nights a week, meant I had more of an athletic figure. More muscled thighs, arms and abs were enough for me to have intimidated a few men in my time, who freaked out at a woman being stronger than them. These days I didn’t bother getting involved with any. Since strong thighs were vital for pole dancing some men had complained about me gripping them too tightly during sex, damn pussies.

As a result, I found it easier to stay away from men and had come to develop a close relationship with my vibrator. It was less trouble than a man. It didn’t complain to me at all. It didn’t demand things from me I didn’t want to do and unlike a man, it always got me off.

Of course, avoiding men wasn’t the easiest thing to achieve when I worked in a strip club but the men who came here didn’t count anyway. They were usually jerks; often middle-aged men trying to grope women half their age, while their poor bored wives stayed at home raising their kids, and dutifully waiting for their return.

I brushed out my hair, reapplied my makeup and slipped into a gold dress, one of the costumes we had to choose from while we wandered around, trying to give the men a reason to stay in the club a bit longer. Each dancer had a wardrobe assigned to us with numerous dresses and shoes for us to choose from.

I smoothed the dress down over my body which fit like a second skin. Surprisingly it had a very modest neckline, nothing plunging so my boobs didn’t hang out which was nice, but the hem barely covered my ass and that could mean fending off drunken men for the next hour if I was unlucky. I stepped into matching shoes, and I was ready to get out on the floor.

As I left the dressing room Danny turned up his expression impatient. About fucking time. Where’s Melody and Amber? I’m not fucking paying you girls to sit in the dressing room painting your fucking nails or whatever the fuck you do in there. Get out on the floor and make me some money.

I sighed, flashing him a wide smile which felt like it was going to split my face in two, as punishment for being so fake, as I brushed past him and out to the bar area. The thumping music getting louder as I drew nearer until finally I walked out into the semi darkened room with  the coloured lights flashing in time to the beat of the music.

Ignoring the first group of hopeful assholes, I walked straight to the bar to get my drink. We were allowed one drink between dances, but I only ever drank water or some kind of soft drink. I needed to keep my guard up against men, and also to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid. I had the ability I’d been born with under control most of the time, but there was nothing worse than alcohol for making me lose control, and then anything could happen.

Sometimes if I got the shits I would make things happen and that could be bad, that could be really bad. My biggest problem was, I wasn’t a redhead for nothing. I had a fiery temper if I got pissed off bad enough, and sometimes it didn’t take much to piss me off.

I worked fucking hard to keep myself under control because I couldn’t risk anyone finding out that I wasn’t altogether normal. No one understood what I was, and anything that couldn’t easily be explained seemed to worry most people. Life was easier to deal with if I pretended I was normal, or as normal as I pretended to be anyway. I didn’t want anyone to find out that I was a telekinetic and that I had the ability to move objects with my mind. If people didn’t think I was crazy, they’d nag me to death for a demonstration, and I wasn’t a fucking circus freak. I wasn’t going to put on a show just to entertain others. So, I did my job; tried to keep out of trouble, and kept what I was, hidden.

DAMIEN

Damien was bored. He was always bored these nights. Since his bro Lucian had gone and fallen in love, he’d become as boring as the rest of them with partners. That meant he didn’t want to come out hunting with him anymore. He had no one to pick up women with, that they could bring home and spend the night fucking. They’d done it for years and damn, they’d fucked some women, they’d dipped into hundreds of sweet cunts, but now he had no one to enjoy them all with.

Fuck Lucian for becoming a one cunt man. Damned pussy he thought, then chuckled to himself over his choice of words.  Still one little skinny blonde female and Lucian forgot all about hunting, fucking, and feeding. There was no more of them sharing a woman’s body, one with his dick up her ass and the other with his dick up her hot little cunt. That was all over because his little brother had gone and fallen in love. Well, no fucking way was he ever going to fall in love and become pussy whipped.

He loved women, he really loved women, and no one appreciated a good woman as much as he did, but only for fucking and feeding from. He had no use for intellect since he wouldn’t be discussing the world economy with them, and he only found them irritating if they wanted to speak to him. Women and conversations; fuck that. They all had to be in touch with their feelings and had an overwhelming need to share those fucking feelings with everyone, including him sometimes. That was where being vampire came in handy. He’d mind control them which would shut them up, and then he could get on with the important stuff like fucking and feeding.  

I’m getting out of here for a while. He yelled at the others before heading out the front door of his sire’s home where most of them lived. He’d tried to get Lucian to join him since his little blonde human had dumped him three months ago, but the damned fool still insisted on moping around wanting her back.

He decided to go to the strip club since he hadn’t been there in a while. It wasn’t exactly the place to go to pick up women since most of the clientele were men but there were some hot little asses working there. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d spent the evening watching the dancers work their routines, swinging off that fucking pole and gyrating around, breasts swaying, lips pouting and making him hard with the way they looked like they were trying to fuck the damned pole. Shit, if they wanted a pole, he had one between his legs and he was more than happy to have them climb on board.

When he arrived at the club he stepped into the darkened bar, the pounding of the music surrounding him; the lights flashing and straight away he could see it must have been break time for the girls, since no one was on stage dancing.

He pushed inside and made his way through crowds of mostly men. A lot obviously drunk. Here and there the occasional woman or two stood amongst a group of men. It was obvious from their bored expressions that they were only there because they’d been dragged there. Damien eyed the women off as he passed through the crowd. Sometimes a bored woman was a horny woman. She could be easily persuaded to step outside with him and let him between her soft thighs. No such luck tonight; there wasn’t one amongst them that interested him.

He continued to push his way through the crowds, smelling the combined aromas of sweat, alcohol, vomit, and blood. The sweet scent of blood came from every one of the potential food sources dancing, drinking, and trying to score in the club tonight. They were men though and feeding off women was Damien’s preference. That was because they weren’t just a food source for him. He liked to fuck and feed from them. It was only if all else failed, that he’d drink from a man, but it wouldn’t be quite the same since there’d be no fucking.

He might be a bit of an exhibitionist when it came to sex; he and Lucian fucked women together but never had he had even the slightest desire to fuck another man. He didn’t care if his wasn’t the only bare cock in the room. He didn’t care about feeling another cock sliding along beside his, but only when there was that wall of internal flesh separating his cock from the other one like there was when he was up some sweet thing’s ass or cunt, and the other cock was up the hole he wasn’t filling.

Finally, he made his way through the crowd and was about to sit down at a table close to the stage when he saw her. It was her hair that first got his attention. Damn, it was magnificent; red, flaming red, cascading down her back nearly to her waist in a tangle of curls. It was full, framing her face like a lion’s mane. It was incredible. She had so much fucking hair and immediately, all he could think about, was what it would be like to have it wrapped around his cock.

He watched her walk through the club, her expression tense although she shot quick smiles at men as she passed by them, but he could see they were merely a curve of her lips and a flash of her teeth. There was nothing genuine about her smiles at all, and that made him smile to himself.

Her demeanour made him curious, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, as she made her way through the club. As she drew closer to him, he studied her features and this time he grinned. Her hair was amazing and had drawn his attention, but she hadn’t been close enough for him to see her face properly but now he could, and fuck, she was stunning.

She had a beautiful heart shaped face, high cheekbones and dimples that flashed briefly, with each fake smile she threw at the men who swarmed around her, like bees to a honey pot. It was blatantly obvious that they were just as keen to get between her thighs as he suddenly was. He couldn’t quite make out her eye colour yet, since she was constantly turning her head from side to side, acknowledging the men who seemed to gravitate towards her.

There was a brief flurry of activity when a man lunged, grabbing at her. Instantly her expression changed, frustration and disgust flashing across her stunning features. As if appearing from thin air a glass flew over the heads of the crowd, smashing into the temple of the moron who had tried to touch her, and he fell back in shock.

Damien frowned slightly over the glass and where it had come from, but he wasn’t interested in overthinking it, not when it registered with him, that this was his chance to make a move and get closer to the flaming haired beauty. Stepping forward, he began to push his way through the crowds until he was in front of her. He took her elbow which resulted in her irritated gaze lifting to his and he finally got his first look into her eyes.

Holy fucking hell, they were the most intense green he’d ever seen before, green like the emerald stone. His eyes had been described as emerald green, but they weren’t as brilliant as hers. He’d never seen anything like the colour of her eyes, not in all the years he’d been vampire. Right now, they were open wide as she stared up at him before she tried to snatch her arm free of his grip.

Keep still, I’m trying to get you away from them. They’re a bunch of jerks and that one who grabbed you is only one of them. He told her and although she still looked unimpressed, she reluctantly allowed him to steer her through the crowd until he found them a relatively quiet spot to one side of the stage.

Of course, with the music playing, no area in the fucking club was quiet but at least he’d managed to get her alone and had his first chance to really look at her.

She was tall, even allowing for the five inch heels she was wearing. The top of her bright head came to just above his chin, and he was fairly tall at six foot two. Unable to control his eyes, they moved down the front of her from her breasts and oh what fan..fucking..tastic breasts they were. Not too large but certainly ample enough to push generously against the front of her skin tight gold dress.

Fuck he wanted to see them without the constraints of a bra or her dress and hold them in his hands. They’d be a challenge for him, more than likely spilling out through his fingers, just a little at least but fuck it he’d give it a damn good go.

Her stomach was flat, but she wasn’t tiny. This woman worked out since she had muscles, enough that he could see them beneath her dress. Her ass was tight, and he wanted to sink his teeth into it. For the first time in a long time, he felt the tingle which signalled the descent of his fangs and like a school boy who couldn’t control his dick, he had to fight to keep them from lowering and revealing what he was, right here, right now, in the fucking club. He finally got himself under control and continued his way down her body, enjoying the visual feast that she was.

Fuck those legs of hers had him suddenly so hard he could use his cock as a baton. Damned thing would knock someone out if he hit them with it. Her legs were long, incredibly long, and so fucking fine.

His reaction to them surprised him a little. He’d never been so turned on by a pair of legs in his life. It was usually what was hidden between them that turned him on. Her thighs looked quite firm and just looking at them had him thinking of what she could do to him; his head filled with images of those thighs gripping his hips hard as he pounded into her. She had the most beautiful shaped calves too, which the heels helped enhance and show off to perfection.

As he stared at them, he couldn’t shake the images flooding his mind of her with those legs wrapped around him or folded back either side of her head as he fucked her. He’d settle for them any way he could, just as long as he was between them.

By the time he finally raised his eyes to hers again she was glaring at him.

Seen enough? I thought the fact you’d tried to help me meant you weren’t just another sleaze ball like nearly every other fucking man in this place but no, you’re just a more gallant fucking sleaze ball who goes about it more subtly.

Damien looked at her and grinned. Fuck, she was perfect. Sassy and she had a filthy mouth on her. He was instantly and madly in lust. He wanted her, fuck he really wanted her. She wasn’t like the usual brainless bimbos he took home. No, this one had a sharp mind and she had him going. He wanted her badly and he wanted her now. No way was she going to come quietly with him though, and it excited the fuck out of him that she wasn’t falling all over him like he was used to.

It would be fun to play with this one; she was fiery. It was rare for a woman to deny him but in the end he always got the girl; just one of the perks of being vampire. No matter how much she might be flashing those gorgeous eyes at him now like she hated him, in the end, he’d win. He’d simply mind control her, fuck her and walk away.  

Yet as he stared down at her angry face, a frisson of something passed through him, causing a moment of uneasiness. He wasn’t sure what caused it, but he shook his head to shake off the feeling, all the same.  

FLAME

I stared up into the face of my rescuer, who turned out to be just a smoother version of the fuckwits who thought it was ok to grope me, when I worked the floor.

He was a good-looking bastard, I’d give him that much. Tall, slightly too long brown hair. Cut and styled so he had that look like he’d just crawled out of bed.

His eyes were green and surprisingly similar to mine in colour. I’d never seen anyone with eyes the colour of mine until now. He had beautiful lips for a man, nicely shaped with a full bottom one that I just wanted to bite. Whoa Flame. I muttered to myself. No man, even the good looking fuckers like this one, were worth getting close to. I needed to stop those thoughts immediately, and yet my eyes continued to move over him.

He had a strong jaw, shadowed by a day or two’s worth of stubble. I could just see part of some strange tattoo on his neck that looked like a barcode, similar to those found on food in the supermarkets. His shoulders were broad, so he clearly worked out and yet he wasn’t too heavily muscled. I liked a man to be toned, but not that bulky, Mr Universe look. From what I could see, his stomach was flat, and I felt a strange urge to touch it, to see if I could feel his abs beneath my fingers.

Reluctantly I found my eyes zooming in, on the light covering of brown hair I could see in the neckline of his black shirt. The man was dressed all in black for that matter. Head to toe and in jeans that hugged his narrow hips and curved almost lovingly over an ass that definitely got things wet south of the border, much to my frustration. His legs were long, and my eyes followed them down to his shoes which were huge. Damn, if his feet were that fucking big, how big was his...NO, don’t go there. That voice in my head choked me off from finishing that thought.

With considerable effort I dragged my eyes away from his feet and met his green gaze again, cursing the man under my breath when I noticed the length of his lashes. Fuck it; seriously why did some men have the most amazing eyelashes? I wanted lashes that long; that were naturally like that, and not ones I had to dye to make them darker, or wear fake lashes for work to give me that sultrier look. Men had no right in this world having long, thick eyelashes; it wasn’t fair. Seriously, what the hell did they need them for?

I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me? This man was fucking with my mind somehow. Damn, I had to go. It was time to get ready for my next dance and this man, although sexy as sin was holding me up. He was wasting my time, and if he thought he had a chance with me, then he sure as hell was wasting his time. He had no chance, no man did. I stayed away from them because sooner or later they pissed me off, and when they pissed me off I’d do something stupid, I always did.

I have to go, I’m working. I told him, moving to brush past him.

You work here? He sounded surprised.

Yeah. Shocking, huh? I have to go, it was nice meeting you. I churned out the mechanical response in an effort to be polite, but even I could hear the lack of sincerity in my voice, and he grinned.

Yeah, I can tell sugar. You’re sweet as pie. So, what’s your name before you leave me all alone?

I ignored him and continued to walk away. My name’s Damien in case you wanted to know. He called but I didn’t turn back. If he stuck around, he’d know who I was soon enough, just as he’d know what I was. I bet once he found out I was a pole dancer who worked in a strip club, he’d be glad he didn’t get in my pants. A lot of people made the assumption that as a pole dancer, I was also a hooker and would fuck anything with a dick.

Once I got back to the dressing room, I quickly changed into my next costume if it could be called that. It was simply an emerald green thong in shiny satiny material, and matching bra that covered my nipples but not much else. I slipped on heels to go with the outfit, teased up my hair into a wild mane and loaded on enough eyeliner to give me that sultry, sexy look I needed once I was under the spotlights.

I heard Danny go through his usual build up to get the men in the audience all horny for us, and when the music started up, I gave Amber a tight smile, who’d just rushed in to get changed, and I headed out towards the stage, fixing a fake wide smile on my face as I stepped out under the lights.

DAMIEN

Damien was feeling frustrated and not just sexually. That woman had driven him crazy and had him all worked up and yet she’d done nothing to encourage him. There hadn’t even been the tiniest bit of encouragement in her treatment of him, but he still wanted her. Fuck he wanted her, and just when he thought about leaving this damned club, the manager announced the pole dancers were about to begin performing again.

Those words were enough to create a stampede of men rushing towards the stage. If the men were this enthusiastic, either the dancers were good or maybe the men were so drunk anyone looked good to them now?

Still, preparing himself to see some middle-aged woman, with her cheaply dyed hair and trying to preserve a body that was well past it’s prime like some of these strip clubs had, he waited to see who this Flame was that had just been announced.

When she walked out, the very woman who had him all fucked up in the head, his mouth dropped open in amazement. He was in shock at the sight of her and the way she was dressed. Rarely was Damien shocked by anything, but he was now. The sight of her, with the lights shining down on her as she began to dance had him shifting restlessly.

As he watched, she did some gravity defying flip which catapulted her onto the pole, where she hung for a moment, body stretched outwards from it, arms spread towards the audience. His eyes moved over her, finally focusing on her thighs. Hot damn, those amazing thighs. No wonder she had such an athletic looking build. It was only her thighs that held her on the pole. The sight of her, body stretched out, hair like fire around her from the spotlights that shone down, lighting it up like a fiery halo of curls around her, damned if he didn’t almost come in his jeans right then.

Chapter Two

Damien

Fucking hell, Flame, that was her name. Flame, his redheaded beauty with the not so ladylike mouth on her was a pole dancer. Well, that explained why she had muscled thighs. She’d need them to grip that damn pole and when he began to think about her gripping that pole, then he thought about her under him, those legs wrapped around him and those thighs gripping him tight.

With every image that passed through his head his desire grew, and Damien knew he was going to have to get out of here and relieve the pressure in his dick and balls. Fuck he was primed up to near bursting point, and it was hurting to sit there with his cock nearly drilling its fucking way out of his jeans, and through the metal zipper as well.

Watching her perform was torture. She was good, damn she was really good. When she ripped her bra off and those magnificent breasts of hers bounced free he was sure a drop of pre cum wept from his cock since he could feel a slight dampness where he rubbed against the denim. When she started almost humping the fucking pole, he got even harder and the pain he was feeling was made worse by the fact his jeans felt as abrasive as bloody sand paper.

God he had to either get inside her, or get out of here quickly before he shot his load in his pants. It was either come like an over eager school boy, or he took his lack of concern over being an exhibitionist to the next level and fucked her brains out while she was still on that damned stage, right in front of everyone in the fucking club. Now that might get her a few tips.

Much as he enjoyed seeing that gorgeous athletic body of hers on display and watching those breasts swaying as she performed, real breasts too, not manufactured ones, he almost sagged with relief when the music came to an end as did her routine. He’d never been so turned on and so close to coming in his life, and all just from visual stimulation.

It was a bit of a blow to his male pride to find himself so close to losing his load in his pants. Fuck he had brilliant control, usually. He could fuck and fuck and fuck and not come and once he finally did, he could fuck and come multiple times. Ok being vampire enhanced that ability for sure, but he’d taught himself to take it to the extreme when he wanted to.

When Flame left the stage, Damien gingerly got to his feet and began to make his way out of the club. It was taking everything in him not to wince and groan at every step. As he walked he tried to stop his body from making contact with anyone as that might tip him over the edge, or be highly embarrassing if he brushed against another man’s ass for example. Fuck that woman for having this effect on him. The sooner he got her under him or straddling him the better.

Finally, he made it outside and he paused for a moment, leaning back against the wall of the club, eyes closed, feeling the vibration from the pounding music inside. He tried willing his cock to go down, muttering under his breath, over and over again but it just wouldn’t damn well work.

Fuck her. He swore under his breath and then tensed when he heard a voice nearby. His eyes shot open, his head turning until he found her; dammit, it was her. This was all he needed; her now while he was like this, struggling for control.

Do you always stand outside clubs talking to yourself? She asked, a smirk on her gorgeous face. Oh wait, you’re talking to your imaginary fucking girlfriend aren’t you?

Damien opened his eyes again and stared into her stunning green ones, seeing the humour in them. He might have been ok with that, if that humour