“Yes.”
“Good.” He ripped open a foil bag and tossed a chip into his mouth. His brows drew together as he chewed. “Hey, you okay? Someone bother you out there?”
“Yes, I mean no, no one bothered me. I’m fine. Just nervous.”
“Nervous ‘bout what?”
“I have to do that lap dance after my break.”
His smile lifted his cheeks so much his eyes squinted as he nodded knowingly. “You’ll be fine. I told you, I won’t let anyone touch you.”
“I know, it’s just, I don’t do well with … with being close to others. I’m afraid I’ll freeze up.”
“Did you practice on a chair like I suggested?”
“Yes, but I don’t have an issue being close to wooden objects. I have an issue getting too close to males.”
He tossed the last chip into his mouth and crumpled the bag in his fist. “You could practice on me.”
Larissa hesitated. A wave of guilt wafted from him, and she did not understand why such a suggestion might fill him with shame. They were friends.
“Never mind. That was a stupid idea.”
“No. Not stupid. That might actually help me. I trust you, Vito. If you wouldn’t mind me practicing with you, I would really appreciate it.”
His cheeks flushed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’ll shut the door.”
Oddly giddy for his assistance, Larissa stood.
“Do you want me on the couch or the chair?”
“The chair, I think.”
He hefted the wooden seat into the center of the room. The wood whined under the bulk of his weight as he sat.
“If the girls don’t want to be touched, I instruct the guys to keep their hands at their sides, so I’ll just…” He lowered his hands so they hung by the back legs of the chair.
Vito was tall, but so was she. She stood before him, his eyes practically level with her own. She twisted her lips, considering their positioning one last time. “Ready?”
“What about music?”
The music from the club filtered through the lounge walls, but it was muffled and the lack of sound made the act all the more awkward. “Your phone?”
He reached in his pocket and withdrew the device. Making a quick selection, he said, “This should work.” He tossed the phone on the couch and returned his arms to his side.
Larissa recognized the song playing, which helped her formulate her movements. She prowled around the perimeter of the chair, placing a delicate finger on his broad shoulder and tracing it across his back.
She had watched several lap dances, so she had an idea of what to do. As she circled him, he kept his eyes on her. Her body stayed in constant motion, rolling and undulating, twisting and pivoting. Her nose teased close to his chest. His skin smelled of soap and tobacco with a trace of barbecue from the chips he had eaten.
As his pulse kicked up, she could hear the blood pumping through his veins. His heartbeat quickened as she stepped over his knee and placed a hand on his shoulder. She lowered her body but did not make contact with his lap.
Hunger slammed through her. It was challenging to meet her needs under the watchful eyes of modern civilization, and she spent many hours fighting off her body’s demand to feed.
Had it been two days? Three? She remembered hunting down a small rabbit but had only taken a few sips of its blood, enough to stave off the hunger pains and leave the creature unharmed.
The longer she danced, the louder Vito’s heartbeat pounded until it was all she could hear. His face flushed with color, hot, thick blood rising to the surface. She could scent it pumping under his inviting flesh.
She ground her body into his thigh, needing to get closer to the smell. His head fell back and he groaned.
“Fuck, Larissa, you’re better at this than you think.”
Her gaze zeroed in on the flutter of his pulse. Her gums ached and her belly tightened. The punch of her extending fangs had her lips parting and her breath panting. She licked over the swell of her open mouth, watching him like a starved lioness eyeing her prey.
“Jesus. I’m going to have to break skulls to keep the guys’ hands off you. You sure you never did this before?”
His body stretched and hardened. She could scent his growing arousal. “This is okay?”
“Yeah, this is fuckin’ okay. It’s so okay that I think maybe we should stop.”
“The song’s only half over.”
He groaned again as if in pain. “You have no idea what you do to a man, do you?”
Her lips twisted, remembering how powerless she was against her husband. “Where I come from, I can do nothing to a man. It’s the men who handle all the doing.”
“We should stop.”
She frowned, her mind distracted as she focused on his throat. “Just a sip.”
“What?”
Her fingers forked through his hair, angling his head back with a hard yank. She dropped her weight into his lap and wrapped her legs around his hips, pinning him to the chair. Her tongue licked over the stubble on his throat, tracing the flutter of his pulse, then she snapped her fangs apart, sinking deep into his flesh.