Give me a lap dance

"Belong to you as a mistress, starting from now?", I asked with my eyes wide open.

Vladimir’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it sharpened. "Yes," he said calmly, like it was the most reasonable demand in the world. "Your body, your loyalty, your silence. All mine."

I swallowed hard, trying to steady the shaking in my limbs. "That wasn’t part of the deal."

"It is now," he replied smoothly. "You came to me desperate. Desperation has a price."

"And yes you came here knowing what kind of man I am. Don’t act surprised now that I’m not playing the gentleman.”

I stood slowly, my chair scraping softly against the marble. “And if I say no?”, I murmured softly.

He took a step closer. “Then you walk out of here alone. Straight back into Liam Hartford’s gilded cage. You’ll marry a man who will destroy you from the inside out while your best friend whispers poison in his ear. You came to me for a reason, sweetheart. Don’t pretend you still believe in rescue.”

The silence between us stretched thin and sharp. I could still turn around. Still run.

But I was so tired of running.

My hands trembled at my sides, but I lifted my chin. “Fine,” I said, voice barely a whisper. “You want me? You have me. For now.”

Something flickered in Vladimir’s eyes, satisfaction, maybe. Or victory.

“Smart girl,” he murmured. "Now come over and give me a lap dance",

He spread his legs eyeing my body slowly like a piece of prey.

I froze instantly.

My breath caught in my throat, disbelief crashing over me like a tidal wave. A lap dance? That was how this began?

I looked at him really looked. Vladimir’s gaze was steady, expectant. Not leering, not impatient. Just calm, cold, and in control. Like he already owned me. Like this was merely the first of many humiliations I’d have to swallow.

My cheeks burned with shame, with fury. But underneath it all, there was something darker, more dangerous a flicker of something that terrified me more than him.

Curiosity.

What would it feel like… to stop fighting?

No. I shook the thought loose, forcing my trembling hands to still. “I thought you wanted loyalty,” I said quietly, “not a performance.”

He raised a brow, tilting his head like I was amusing. “Loyalty begins with obedience.”

My heart pounded so loud I swore he could hear it. But I didn’t move. Not yet.

“Is this a test?” I whispered. Vladimir leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, a faint smirk on his lips. “Everything is a test.”

My stomach twisted. I clenched my jaw to keep from saying something that would ruin everything. Because I had come here. I’d walked into the wolf’s den willingly. Not for safety. Not for love.

For survival.

He spread his knees just slightly, an invitation laced in dominance.

"Well?.." he began.

"You want obedience?" I whispered. "You’ll get it. But don’t confuse that with submission."

For the first time, something flared in his eyes. Surprise. Amusement. Maybe even interest.

He leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur. “Darling, if I wanted submission, I’d take it. What I want… is surrender.”

The distinction made my breath hitch. Surrender wasn’t about force. It was about choice. And that made it far more dangerous.

"Come here."

He patted his lap.

My heart thundered like it was trying to tear out of my chest. Every step toward him felt like a betrayal of reason, of morality, of everything I told myself I wouldn't feel.

But my feet moved anyway.

One.

Two.

Three steps.

I reached him slowly then stepped between his knees, aware of every inch of my body and how exposed I felt. I straddled his lap like a woman stepping over the edge of a cliff.

His hands didn’t touch me. Not yet. He just watched.

My knees trembled as they hit the sides of the chair, and I lowered myself onto his lap. The heat of him seeped into my skin. My pulse pounded in my ears. My whole body screamed at me to run.

But I didn’t.

The room felt smaller and everything became worse when he turned on the music.

"You’re serious about this?" I asked, my voice lower than I meant it to be. Unsteady.

He leaned in, his voice a dark whisper.

"You’re not virgin. What’s the difference now?"

You. You’re the difference.

But I didn’t say it.

Instead, I placed my hands on his shoulders and my thighs tightened around his hips. He exhaled, his eyes darkening. ''You’re terrified,” he said.

“Yes,” I whispered. “But I’m still here.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear.

“Good.”

His hands didn’t move. He just stared at me, eyes burning into mine, waiting for me to make the first move.

God help me… I wanted to.

I purposely shifted in his lap, slow and deliberate, grinding my hips just enough to test him.

A low, guttural sound slipped from his throat, a groan so quiet it was almost a growl.

Victory curled in my chest for half a second, until his hands gripped my hips, hard.

I gasped, the air catching in my throat as his fingers dug in with just enough pressure to make me feel owned.

"You’re playing with fire, Brinna ," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint, like he was fighting somethinghimself.

I could feel him under me now, hard and unmistakably aroused, and it sent a dangerous thrill through my body. My skin was flushed, every nerve on edge, but my head screamed at me to stop.

I tilted my head, keeping my tone light even as my pulse pounded.

"Thought you liked games, Vladimir."

His grip tightened.

"Not when I’m losing."

The way he said it, like I already had the upper hand made something twist low in my belly. I should’ve gotten off his lap. I should’ve slapped him, walked out, reminded him i am not a whore but instead I stayed.