A Yoruba Mermaid.

IDGAF what the economy is doing, I'm going to get what I want, eat well, and live an abundant, happy, well-designed life. I didn't come here to suffer or be in bondage.

SPRUNG.

Chapter One

Stack was tired. Not ‘in need of sleep’ tired. Not ‘I need a vacation’ tired. No, this fatigue went down to his bones, the very marrow of who he was. His mother, a God fearing, no shit taking woman had always told him and Smoke that there was a season in life for everything, a time to be born and a time to die,a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh. Well, Stack could say his life was a wreck around him and sure as shit wasn’t laughing.

Even now, thinking about it, it amazed him how much had fallen onto his shoulders all at once.

His mama getting sick.

Smoke and Yetunde losing their baby girl.

Three of his best mechanics up and quit on him.

Smoke and Yetunde separating, and ultimately divorcing.

Their daddy is actually making parole, out there in the world after twenty years behind bars for trying to burn down their home with him, Smoke and their mama inside. These past few years, the hits kept coming. Every single time he got back up, something, someone, would simply knock him right back down again. And some days? Some days he wanted to just stay there. Low in the dregs of the tragedies flowing around him, over him. If it were up to him, he would.

But Smoke needed him. His mama needed him, even if sometimes she was too stubborn to admit it. So he pulled himself up from his misery and put one step in front of the other even if some days he truly felt that he would rather die than keep going. He couldn’t share these thoughts with his twin. Which felt unnatural because they shared everything. Still, how could he? How could he turn to his brother who would forever be separated from his daughter on this earthly plane and tell him that on some days, he thought about joining his niece there? No, he wouldn’t put that hurt on the man he loved most in the world.

So he carried it. He carried it in silence that was suffocating, but he fucking carried it, because he has no other choice. Here he sits, going over ledgers and numbers, his jaw ticking in and annoyance and exhaustion, the exact same behavioural language as his older, wiser twin. Stack feels the usual migraine coming on when he’s stressed or working too hard but he ignores it. As he works, he hears a familiar gait heading to his office, over the murmurings of the rest of his employees and scrapes of tools in his garage.

And there’s Smoke, leaning against the frame of his office, his figure so big, it’s blocking out the light of the garage right behind him. Smoke tilts his head, watching his brother, taking note of the exhaustion and the air of malaise that clings to him like a second skin.

‘You ain’t even gonna say hello to your big brother?’ Smoke says lowly.

Without looking up, Stack kisses his teeth ‘Watchu want, man?’ Stack asks, clearly irritated.

Smoke laughs, finally entering his brother’s chaotic office fully.‘What I want is for you to get some fresh air. All you do is sit in this office and stress yourself out. When was the last time you smelled air that wasn’t tainted with engine oil, huh?’

Stack lets out a frustrated sigh and leans back in his chair, finally looking up at the face that’s so similar to his own.

‘I gotta get the garage straight man. You know that. Mama’s bills-‘

‘You ain’t paying Mama’s bills by yo’self. You know that. And the garage running fine. You straight. You more than straight’ Smoke cuts in.

Stack says nothing, just rubs the back of his neck, the heavy gold rings on his left hand a soothing weight to his aching head.

‘So watchu want? Cause I know you ain’t here for just charity.’

Smoke laughs gently.

‘Nigga, fuck you. Here I go tryna do something nice for my one and only brother, trying to check in and that’s how you wanna do me?’

Stack simply rolls his eyes, used to Smoke’s gentle ribbing.

‘You gon’ tell me what you want? Or you just gon cosplay Nurse Nightingale up in here?

‘We going to Pink Fantasy tonight,’ Smoke tells his brother, a rare grin appearing on his face.

Stack just rolls his eyes harder. ‘The hell we are. Maybe YOU goin’. I ain’t got shit to do with

that.’

Smoke raises a brow in disbelief.

‘This the same man that used to turn Magic City into a monsoon of paper every time he set foot in that bitch?’

Stack’s jaw flexes again. He’s so tired. Why is he always so tired?

‘That was…before’ he responds to his brother tiredly.

Smoke’s eyes gentle again, sitting across from his brother.

‘Aye man. I know. You hear me? I know. But you need a break. I need a break. And if that break includes some ass in our face, so what? We deserve it.’

Stack looks up at his brother. He sighs, knowing that he’s already lost the fight.

‘Fine. But I’m only gon’ be there an hour. After that? I’m going the fuck home, you hear me?’

Smoke claps his brother hard on his shoulder. ‘Yeah, yeah I hear you.

Later.

Stacks slides into the passenger seat of Smoke’s range rover, chain swinging, gold grill glowing faintly in the inky darkness of the night. For all the tragedy and pain the men have experienced in the past few years, they look nothing like what they’ve been through. Smoke is dressed in all black, a thin cashmere pullover stretching over his muscular frame, matching dark slacks, looking menacing and magnetic at the same time. Stack is in an oxblood silk button down, gold cuban link chain matching his earrings, his bracelets on his left wrist, his rings on his left arm and the grills in his mouth. His dark wash jeans are simple but scream ‘I got money and I ain’t afraid to spend it’.

Smoke shakes his head when he sees his brother’s outfit.

‘Nigga, you got the entire state of Louisiana’s jewelry on!’

Stack just lifts an eyebrow.

‘And so what? If I’m gon’ go out, I’m gon’ show out. You know how I do. Smoke mutters something about his brother being an insufferable show off and speeds off into the night.

The entrance to Pink Fantasy is unassuming. Just a door that looks like a vault, with a heavyset woman guarding it.

Stack is intrigued.

‘I ain’t never seen a female bouncer before. How you figure?’ Stack asks.

The woman just smirks at him before showing him her glock. He laughs. ‘ I ain’t tryna get lit up.’

She nods.

‘Good. Then you boys have a good night.”

Smoke and Stack walk in, the strip club is bathed in purple and blue light, the floors that the girls are dancing on are completely clear. The opening lyrics to Baby Keem’s ‘$ex Appeal’ play in the background as a particularly stacked woman twirls around the pole with a grace that compliments the song and her curves, golden locks whipping back and forth. Both Stack and Smoke are instantly captivated. Noticing them she slithers to their side of the floor, undulating softly, with a lazy smile. Stack smirks back, placing a dollar, right in her thong. She laughs, throwing her leg back before blinking seductively at Stack.

‘You got a name?’ Stack asks.

She runs her lips across the front of her teeth.

‘Black Cherry’ she responds.

Stack tilts his head up at her.

‘Cherry huh? Suits you.’

Cherry smiles and winks at both Smoke and Stack.

‘I know’ she shoots back cheekily.

Stack chuckles, pulling a wad of cash from his wallet.

‘Well Cherry, you have my bro here to thank for getting me in here.’ He leans in closer to Cherry, who’s still moving in slow motion like she’s in water, the song having changed to Juvenile’s ‘Slow Motion’.

‘He deserves a reward, don’t you think?’ He stage whispers the beautiful woman putting on a show for both of them. Cherry pretends to think, then a slow smile climbs up her pretty face.

‘Yeah, I think so. Do you think so, sugar?’ she asks this to Smoke, her dark skin glistening under the lights.

Smoke’s pupils dilate a little bit,‘I sho’ do think so’ he responds.

Stack nods with satisfaction before sticking a wad of cash in Cherry’s ample cleavage.

‘Show my brother a good time, ok?’ Cherry hops off the floor before grabbing Smoke’s hand to lead him to one of the private rooms.

‘Oh, I definitely will’ her voice floating through the club as she cuts through the mass of people with Smoke.

Stack laughs softly to himself.

‘That nigga deserves it.’ He heads to the bar and gets himself a whiskey sour, watching the parade of beautiful women perform for adoring audiences of all kinds. Appreciating women who are wearing sashes and are drunker than they have any right to be, clearly a bachelorette troupe. Lone men with hungry eyes and open pockets. Groups of straight men jeering and laughing. Queer men singing along to the music and complimentingthe strippers on their skin, their hair, their core strength…

And that’s when he sees her. She glides to the stage, almost like she’s floating. And it feels like Stack’s heart stops right in his chest.

She’s wearing a midnight blue bustier with a matching thong. Her fringed pleasers are a dark blue as well. Her skin absolutely glows under the club lights, her curves are showstopping. Large, full breasts. An ass that couldn’t quit if it tried framed by the sort of thighs a man hopes he dies in between. The swell of her full belly a sweet compliment her rounded hips. But it’s her eyes that get him, perfectly almond shaped, thick eyelashes highlighting them, inviting the seer to come closer. Stack wouldn’t be able to tell a living soul how he ended up right in front of her. It seemed like he blinked and one moment he was at the bar,nursing his whiskey sour and the very next he was in front of the hypnotic,swaying dream dressed in denim blue.

Annie felt his eyes before she saw him. She was used to people looking at her. In fact, she was worried if they didn’t. Being looked at was what got her paid. But this was different. This wasn’t just lustful admiration, this was hunger. Deep and unfathomable, like the ocean’s depths. She could feel it. She turns around and there he is. A brown skinned man with enough gold on him to fill the Calcasieu, dressed in a red silk button down. He was handsome. No doubt about that.

Actually, he was fine as hell. But that didn’t mean nothin’. Lots of fine niggas came in here and threw money around. But ain’t a single one of ‘em ever looked at her like they wanted to breatheher in. That? That was new. And she was intrigued.

Stack stared up at her, entranced by her moves, her eyes.

‘You beautiful’ Stack whispered.

Annie bent low, wiggling her ass in his face, before twisting, feline like, to watch his expression.

It was rapturous.

‘What’s your name?’ Stack asked lowly.

Annie’s lips quirked.

‘Nightrider’ she breathed out. Stack made no indication that he heard her, too entranced by the sway of her hips, the way her ass moved from side to side before switching to a grinding motion to Beyonce’s ‘No Angel’.

‘Can I…Can I have a dance?’ Stack asked hoarsely, eyes still on her hypnotic form, in a trance and completely oblivious to the world around him. They could rob him right now, in this moment and he wouldn’t have a clue. He was in Annie’s world, the only world he wanted to be in.

Annie smiled.

‘Of course, sugar. You wanna stay here or take this somewhere more comfortable?’

Stack’s eyes snapped up, Annie had finally turned around. Stack was so close he could see the intricate details of Annie’s corset, the sweat that had given her skin a subtle sheen. He realizes he’s been staring without actually answering her.

‘Somewhere more comfortable’. Annie smiles like that’s the answer she wanted to hear. She glides down from the bar and Stack holds out his hand for her. Annie giggles.

‘Such a gentleman’. She guides him to her backroom, pushing him into the plush sofa. It’s quiet in here, safe from prying eyes and loud laughter. But Stack can still hear his heartbeat in his ears, because Annie is closer than before.

Annie swings one gorgeous, glistening leg over him before straddling him. Stack groans from her heavy, sweet weight. Annie begins to grind on him and he gasps. Annie giggles again.

‘You having fun, sugar? She asks sweetly. Stack nods mutely. Words won’t come. Annie just raises a perfectly groomed brow.

‘So show it?’ This briefly pulls Stack out of his reverie and he immediately starts showering Annie with bills.

‘Thank you, baby’ she purrs, before pulling off him.

Stack feels the loss immediately, he wants to tell her to come back but then she’s climbing thepole in the center of the room, and she looks incredible, the light catching on the crystals of thebustier, her pleasers making rustling sounds as she does tricks on the pole that make his head spin. She twists her heavy, curvy frame into a helix, flexing her core strength, her ass molding into a perfect shape before swinging both legs in the air and doing a split on the pole.

Eventually, she just twirls, cherry red hair swinging, breasts heaving as she makes herself one entity with the pole. Done with her tricks, she slithers up to Stack continuing her lap dance.

Stack is sure he’s never been harder in his life. He’s so hard he thinks he’s going to pass out.

So hard, his dick could go through a brick wall, so hard he’s leaving a wet spot in his boxers,precum making them sticky and uncomfortable, but he dare not move to adjust himself. Not when Nightrider is on top of him again breasts pressed to his chest, ass bouncing without apology, her scent of jasmine and mint swirling around him making his head hazy.

Annie looks into Stack’s eyes and he’s completely gone. It’s heady and addicting and it makes her want to fuck him, or be fucked by him. She’d never do that. Not here, not now. It’s a line she won’t cross, but he’s making it hard for her. He’s looking at her like she’s hung the moon. So maybe she can’t fuck him, but it doesn’t mean she can’t break one of her rules.

‘You wanna touch me, baby?’ Stack nods.

‘Uh-uh. I asked you a question, honey. And I need an answer. I said do you want to touch me?’

Yeah, yeah I do. Stack responds brokenly.’

‘Well go ahead, I ain’t stopping you’ Annie smirks. Stack does something she doesn’t expect.

She thought that he would immediately go for her ass or her tits. Maybe even her thighs. Lord knows he’s been staring hard enough. But no, he glides his hands up her neck to cradle herface. Annie’s breath stutters in her chest.

‘You so beautiful, Nightrider’ Stack says hoarsely. Now it’s Annie’s turn to be stopped in hertracks. All night she’s had the upper hand, when Stack said earlier that she was beautiful she now? She FELT it.

The stack on my mood board for creating this world is not the one we see at the beginning of the film. It’s the one we get to see at the end. He still has his swagger, but you can also see how life has worn at him- the death of his entire family (mama gone, no good daddy gone, twin brother gone, beloved sis in law gone, niece gone, world he grew up in, vanished to the sands of time) and looking into the face of his cousin now an old man, something he never got be. Something that he will never be. Something that people in his community because of that fateful night- had stolen from them.

There is depth and texture and sadness there, layered on top of his coolness and how he owns a room and that’s what I am interested in portraying. Smoke isn’t the only one capable of introspection and the burden of carrying loss. When he offered Sammie the chance to be turned it wasn’t a devil’s bargain. It was a chance for Stack to have some connection again to the past that has slipped out of his hands.

SPRUNG.

Chapter One

Stack was tired. Not ‘in need of sleep’ tired. Not ‘I need a vacation’ tired. No, this fatigue went down to his bones, the very marrow of who he was. His mother, a God fearing, no shit taking woman had always told him and Smoke that there was a season in life for everything, a time to be born and a time to die,a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh. Well, Stack could say his life was a wreck around him and sure as shit wasn’t laughing.

Even now, thinking about it, it amazed him how much had fallen onto his shoulders all at once.

His mama getting sick.

Smoke and Yetunde losing their baby girl.

Three of his best mechanics up and quit on him.

Smoke and Yetunde separating, and ultimately divorcing.

Their daddy is actually making parole, out there in the world after twenty years behind bars for trying to burn down their home with him, Smoke and their mama inside. These past few years, the hits kept coming. Every single time he got back up, something, someone, would simply knock him right back down again. And some days? Some days he wanted to just stay there. Low in the dregs of the tragedies flowing around him, over him. If it were up to him, he would.

But Smoke needed him. His mama needed him, even if sometimes she was too stubborn to admit it. So he pulled himself up from his misery and put one step in front of the other even if some days he truly felt that he would rather die than keep going. He couldn’t share these thoughts with his twin. Which felt unnatural because they shared everything. Still, how could he? How could he turn to his brother who would forever be separated from his daughter on this earthly plane and tell him that on some days, he thought about joining his niece there? No, he wouldn’t put that hurt on the man he loved most in the world.

So he carried it. He carried it in silence that was suffocating, but he fucking carried it, because he has no other choice. Here he sits, going over ledgers and numbers, his jaw ticking in and annoyance and exhaustion, the exact same behavioural language as his older, wiser twin. Stack feels the usual migraine coming on when he’s stressed or working too hard but he ignores it. As he works, he hears a familiar gait heading to his office, over the murmurings of the rest of his employees and scrapes of tools in his garage.

And there’s Smoke, leaning against the frame of his office, his figure so big, it’s blocking out the light of the garage right behind him. Smoke tilts his head, watching his brother, taking note of the exhaustion and the air of malaise that clings to him like a second skin.

‘You ain’t even gonna say hello to your big brother?’ Smoke says lowly.

Without looking up, Stack kisses his teeth ‘Watchu want, man?’ Stack asks, clearly irritated.

Smoke laughs, finally entering his brother’s chaotic office fully.‘What I want is for you to get some fresh air. All you do is sit in this office and stress yourself out. When was the last time you smelled air that wasn’t tainted with engine oil, huh?’

Stack lets out a frustrated sigh and leans back in his chair, finally looking up at the face that’s so similar to his own.

‘I gotta get the garage straight man. You know that. Mama’s bills-‘

‘You ain’t paying Mama’s bills by yo’self. You know that. And the garage running fine. You straight. You more than straight’ Smoke cuts in.

Stack says nothing, just rubs the back of his neck, the heavy gold rings on his left hand a soothing weight to his aching head.

‘So watchu want? Cause I know you ain’t here for just charity.’

Smoke laughs gently.

‘Nigga, fuck you. Here I go tryna do something nice for my one and only brother, trying to check in and that’s how you wanna do me?’

Stack simply rolls his eyes, used to Smoke’s gentle ribbing.

‘You gon’ tell me what you want? Or you just gon cosplay Nurse Nightingale up in here?

‘We going to Pink Fantasy tonight,’ Smoke tells his brother, a rare grin appearing on his face.

Stack just rolls his eyes harder. ‘The hell we are. Maybe YOU goin’. I ain’t got shit to do with

that.’

Smoke raises a brow in disbelief.

‘This the same man that used to turn Magic City into a monsoon of paper every time he set foot in that bitch?’

Stack’s jaw flexes again. He’s so tired. Why is he always so tired?

‘That was…before’ he responds to his brother tiredly.

Smoke’s eyes gentle again, sitting across from his brother.

‘Aye man. I know. You hear me? I know. But you need a break. I need a break. And if that break includes some ass in our face, so what? We deserve it.’

Stack looks up at his brother. He sighs, knowing that he’s already lost the fight.

‘Fine. But I’m only gon’ be there an hour. After that? I’m going the fuck home, you hear me?’

Smoke claps his brother hard on his shoulder. ‘Yeah, yeah I hear you.

Later.

Stacks slides into the passenger seat of Smoke’s range rover, chain swinging, gold grill glowing faintly in the inky darkness of the night. For all the tragedy and pain the men have experienced in the past few years, they look nothing like what they’ve been through. Smoke is dressed in all black, a thin cashmere pullover stretching over his muscular frame, matching dark slacks, looking menacing and magnetic at the same time. Stack is in an oxblood silk button down, gold cuban link chain matching his earrings, his bracelets on his left wrist, his rings on his left arm and the grills in his mouth. His dark wash jeans are simple but scream ‘I got money and I ain’t afraid to spend it’.

Smoke shakes his head when he sees his brother’s outfit.

‘Nigga, you got the entire state of Louisiana’s jewelry on!’

Stack just lifts an eyebrow.

‘And so what? If I’m gon’ go out, I’m gon’ show out. You know how I do. Smoke mutters something about his brother being an insufferable show off and speeds off into the night.

The entrance to Pink Fantasy is unassuming. Just a door that looks like a vault, with a heavyset woman guarding it.

Stack is intrigued.

‘I ain’t never seen a female bouncer before. How you figure?’ Stack asks.

The woman just smirks at him before showing him her glock. He laughs. ‘ I ain’t tryna get lit up.’

She nods.

‘Good. Then you boys have a good night.”

Smoke and Stack walk in, the strip club is bathed in purple and blue light, the floors that the girls are dancing on are completely clear. The opening lyrics to Baby Keem’s ‘$ex Appeal’ play in the background as a particularly stacked woman twirls around the pole with a grace that compliments the song and her curves, golden locks whipping back and forth. Both Stack and Smoke are instantly captivated. Noticing them she slithers to their side of the floor, undulating softly, with a lazy smile. Stack smirks back, placing a dollar, right in her thong. She laughs, throwing her leg back before blinking seductively at Stack.

‘You got a name?’ Stack asks.

She runs her lips across the front of her teeth.

‘Black Cherry’ she responds.

Stack tilts his head up at her.

‘Cherry huh? Suits you.’

Cherry smiles and winks at both Smoke and Stack.

‘I know’ she shoots back cheekily.

Stack chuckles, pulling a wad of cash from his wallet.

‘Well Cherry, you have my bro here to thank for getting me in here.’ He leans in closer to Cherry, who’s still moving in slow motion like she’s in water, the song having changed to Juvenile’s ‘Slow Motion’.

‘He deserves a reward, don’t you think?’ He stage whispers the beautiful woman putting on a show for both of them. Cherry pretends to think, then a slow smile climbs up her pretty face.

‘Yeah, I think so. Do you think so, sugar?’ she asks this to Smoke, her dark skin glistening under the lights.

Smoke’s pupils dilate a little bit,‘I sho’ do think so’ he responds.

Stack nods with satisfaction before sticking a wad of cash in Cherry’s ample cleavage.

‘Show my brother a good time, ok?’ Cherry hops off the floor before grabbing Smoke’s hand to lead him to one of the private rooms.

‘Oh, I definitely will’ her voice floating through the club as she cuts through the mass of people with Smoke.

Stack laughs softly to himself.

‘That nigga deserves it.’ He heads to the bar and gets himself a whiskey sour, watching the parade of beautiful women perform for adoring audiences of all kinds. Appreciating women who are wearing sashes and are drunker than they have any right to be, clearly a bachelorette troupe. Lone men with hungry eyes and open pockets. Groups of straight men jeering and laughing. Queer men singing along to the music and complimentingthe strippers on their skin, their hair, their core strength…

And that’s when he sees her. She glides to the stage, almost like she’s floating. And it feels like Stack’s heart stops right in his chest.

She’s wearing a midnight blue bustier with a matching thong. Her fringed pleasers are a dark blue as well. Her skin absolutely glows under the club lights, her curves are showstopping. Large, full breasts. An ass that couldn’t quit if it tried framed by the sort of thighs a man hopes he dies in between. The swell of her full belly a sweet compliment her rounded hips. But it’s her eyes that get him, perfectly almond shaped, thick eyelashes highlighting them, inviting the seer to come closer. Stack wouldn’t be able to tell a living soul how he ended up right in front of her. It seemed like he blinked and one moment he was at the bar,nursing his whiskey sour and the very next he was in front of the hypnotic,swaying dream dressed in denim blue.

Annie felt his eyes before she saw him. She was used to people looking at her. In fact, she was worried if they didn’t. Being looked at was what got her paid. But this was different. This wasn’t just lustful admiration, this was hunger. Deep and unfathomable, like the ocean’s depths. She could feel it. She turns around and there he is. A brown skinned man with enough gold on him to fill the Calcasieu, dressed in a red silk button down. He was handsome. No doubt about that.

Actually, he was fine as hell. But that didn’t mean nothin’. Lots of fine niggas came in here and threw money around. But ain’t a single one of ‘em ever looked at her like they wanted to breatheher in. That? That was new. And she was intrigued.

Stack stared up at her, entranced by her moves, her eyes.

‘You beautiful’ Stack whispered.

Annie bent low, wiggling her ass in his face, before twisting, feline like, to watch his expression.

It was rapturous.

‘What’s your name?’ Stack asked lowly.

Annie’s lips quirked.

‘Nightrider’ she breathed out. Stack made no indication that he heard her, too entranced by the sway of her hips, the way her ass moved from side to side before switching to a grinding motion to Beyonce’s ‘No Angel’.

‘Can I…Can I have a dance?’ Stack asked hoarsely, eyes still on her hypnotic form, in a trance and completely oblivious to the world around him. They could rob him right now, in this moment and he wouldn’t have a clue. He was in Annie’s world, the only world he wanted to be in.

Annie smiled.

‘Of course, sugar. You wanna stay here or take this somewhere more comfortable?’

Stack’s eyes snapped up, Annie had finally turned around. Stack was so close he could see the intricate details of Annie’s corset, the sweat that had given her skin a subtle sheen. He realizes he’s been staring without actually answering her.

‘Somewhere more comfortable’. Annie smiles like that’s the answer she wanted to hear. She glides down from the bar and Stack holds out his hand for her. Annie giggles.

‘Such a gentleman’. She guides him to her backroom, pushing him into the plush sofa. It’s quiet in here, safe from prying eyes and loud laughter. But Stack can still hear his heartbeat in his ears, because Annie is closer than before.

Annie swings one gorgeous, glistening leg over him before straddling him. Stack groans from her heavy, sweet weight. Annie begins to grind on him and he gasps. Annie giggles again.

‘You having fun, sugar? She asks sweetly. Stack nods mutely. Words won’t come. Annie just raises a perfectly groomed brow.

‘So show it?’ This briefly pulls Stack out of his reverie and he immediately starts showering Annie with bills.

‘Thank you, baby’ she purrs, before pulling off him.

Stack feels the loss immediately, he wants to tell her to come back but then she’s climbing thepole in the center of the room, and she looks incredible, the light catching on the crystals of thebustier, her pleasers making rustling sounds as she does tricks on the pole that make his head spin. She twists her heavy, curvy frame into a helix, flexing her core strength, her ass molding into a perfect shape before swinging both legs in the air and doing a split on the pole.

Eventually, she just twirls, cherry red hair swinging, breasts heaving as she makes herself one entity with the pole. Done with her tricks, she slithers up to Stack continuing her lap dance.

Stack is sure he’s never been harder in his life. He’s so hard he thinks he’s going to pass out.

So hard, his dick could go through a brick wall, so hard he’s leaving a wet spot in his boxers,precum making them sticky and uncomfortable, but he dare not move to adjust himself. Not when Nightrider is on top of him again breasts pressed to his chest, ass bouncing without apology, her scent of jasmine and mint swirling around him making his head hazy.

Annie looks into Stack’s eyes and he’s completely gone. It’s heady and addicting and it makes her want to fuck him, or be fucked by him. She’d never do that. Not here, not now. It’s a line she won’t cross, but he’s making it hard for her. He’s looking at her like she’s hung the moon. So maybe she can’t fuck him, but it doesn’t mean she can’t break one of her rules.

‘You wanna touch me, baby?’ Stack nods.

‘Uh-uh. I asked you a question, honey. And I need an answer. I said do you want to touch me?’

Yeah, yeah I do. Stack responds brokenly.’

‘Well go ahead, I ain’t stopping you’ Annie smirks. Stack does something she doesn’t expect.

She thought that he would immediately go for her ass or her tits. Maybe even her thighs. Lord knows he’s been staring hard enough. But no, he glides his hands up her neck to cradle herface. Annie’s breath stutters in her chest.

‘You so beautiful, Nightrider’ Stack says hoarsely. Now it’s Annie’s turn to be stopped in hertracks. All night she’s had the upper hand, when Stack said earlier that she was beautiful she now? She FELT it.