The Swan Stripper

"How many times do I have to tell you Robin, I'm not going to a bloody strip club?"

Those were Killian's last words of protest... and yet here he is sitting at a table with his mates, Robin, Will and Dave, wondering how the hell they talked him into this.

It's crowded, being a Friday night and the place is dark, except for the red lights cascading over the stage. He can hear whistling and shouting over the thumping beat of the music as the dancers take the stage. He sighs in his hands with his elbows on the table as he thinks of about a million other things he'd rather be doing.

"Come on, Killian, loosen up. We brought you here to have some fun on your birthday."

He lets out a frustrated groan. Yes, it was his birthday, but he hated this day. It's a stark reminder that he is no longer with his wife, who was taken from him in a fatal car accident over two years ago. They met on his twenty-first birthday and she always did something special for him on this day.

"You're gong to offend the dancers, mate" he hears Will tell him.

He doesn't really care, but he lifts his head anyway, looking to his friends as they watch the girls. As a dark-haired waitress approaches, scantily clad in red and takes their drink orders, his eyes scan the crowd and he guesses that most of the men are married or have girlfriends and that irks him. He just never found the need to look elsewhere when he was with his Milah. He didn't need to go to strip clubs because he already had everything he desired. He never yearned for anyone but her and he still doesn't, even though his days have been dark and lonely ever since.

"How are you guys doing tonight?" she asks with a flirtatious smile.

"We're good, Ruby. Could we get three beers and a rum for this grump?" Robin asks her as he gestures to Killian.

"Sure," she answers with a laugh before she walks away to retrieve the drinks.

When the waitress comes back a few moments later, he reverts his eyes away from her as she sets the glasses on the table. It's not that he doesn't appreciate a beautiful woman, he has just always believed that a woman's naked body was sacred and should only be shared between her and one other person, not put on display in front of a bunch of strangers.

His friends thank her before she disappears and he takes a sip of his drink as he stares at the walls. He'll just be glad when this nights over with.

A while later, new dancers come out on the stage and he looks up out of pure boredom, feeling the effects of the alcohol kick in after he's had a few drinks. There's three strippers pole dancing, captivating the eyes of everyone in the club, but he finds himself not intrigued.

After they leave the stage, he's about to look away when he sees a set of white platform heals walk across it. Her seductive, languid strides entice him like none of the other dancers could, for reasons he couldn't begin to explain. His curious eyes travel up her long, bare legs that guide them to a mini skirt, if you can even call it that. Her smooth looking, milky thighs are on full display and her low, slim waist holds a band with white feathers hanging from it, grazing her skin as she walks provocatively to the center stage.

He swallows hard as his eyes lead him over her toned stomach, reaching her breasts and God, he knows there's no looking away now. Perfection wouldn't even be enough to describe them. The only thing covering them is a feathered top that exposes pretty much everything except her nipples. And as much as his eyes wish to stay there, he wants to see the face that's connected to such an amazing body.

His eyes continue upward over her chest and long, slender neck to find her lips coated in red, holding a seductive smile and her cheeks flushed with pink from the activity she's engaged in as she starts to dance against the pole. Then his eyes connect with her green ones and they're practically glowing, sending an electric current through his entire body. He looks into their alluring and mysterious depths that pull him in like a magnetic force and he finds himself completely lost. So lost, he doesn't even see his mates whispering something to the waitress in front of him.

He finally takes in the full view, watching her every move intensely as she wraps her slender fingers around the pole and straddles it between her legs. She grinds her center against it and slowly lowers herself before coming back up. Her long, blonde hair falls behind her as she arches her back and rolls her hips to the pounding beat of the music. The sight is the most erotic thing he's ever seen; his breathing is heavy just from watching her.

She turns and bends down, keeping her knees locked as she grinds her ass against the pole, resting her hands on her legs before she rises. She walks around the pole and hoists herself up, spinning down to the floor before pulling herself up again. She shows off some more moves, her body impressively supple as she continues with expert execution.

He follows her every move, never tearing his eyes away for a second. She's mesmerizing and flawless, and she knows just how to flaunt the essential feminine features of her body without apology.

When she saunters off behind the stage, he feels an ache from the loss as a woman wearing a dress approaches him and pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Are you the birthday boy?" she asks and he nods, still in awe from watching the blonde goddess. "Follow me." She starts to walk away and Killian looks over to his friends who are grinning at him.

"Happy birthday, Killian," they tell him as he stands up and follows the woman, cursing them inwardly because he knows exactly where he's being led to.

She takes him into a dimly lit room and tells him to sit and get comfortable before she disappears behind the door. He sits in the black, lounge chair and waits for a moment before deciding that he just wants to leave the room and sneak out of the club. As he stands up, a figure appears before him and he sighs as he takes his seat again. It's too late to back out now and in that moment he thinks that maybe if he wishes that it's her, that will make it become true. When she walks closer to him, he can finally make out the figure and he praises the gods above that it is indeed Swan. The guys must have seen the way he was looking at her and requested her specifically for a private lap dance. At least they did something right tonight.

When she approaches him, she starts swaying her hips, letting him take in all that she has to offer, from the round swell of her breasts to her gorgeously toned legs. She then turns around, giving him a good view of the smooth curves of her bottom underneath the soft feathers as she moves erotically, teasing him with it. An involuntary growl escapes his throat as he feels his leather pants tighten. And he knows that she's heard him, because she turns back around and flashes him a sly smirk. His eyes stare into her deep, jaded greens behind her long lashes as she climbs atop of his lap, her knees on each side of him. He sucks in a sharp breath, feeling the heat from her body. She clutches onto the back of the chair and her eyes let him know that he's not to touch her. She starts to move, dipping her hips tantalizingly slow, her body not quite making contact with his before she comes back up.

"What's your name, birthday boy?" she asks in a low, seductive voice as she meets his gaze.

She continues rolling and dipping her body, her covered mound almost touching his leather pants as they become even tighter around him and he bucks his hips up, in desperate need of friction, but only finds air.

"Killian... Killian Jones," he barely musters, his voice completely wrecked.

She smiles mischievously, like she knows exactly what she's doing to him and is enjoying every second of driving him wild. He's hoping she'll give him something more, but she doesn't. Instead, her pace quickens and she engages in a game of give and take. The more she gives, the more he wants and the more he wants, the more she takes away.

"What's yours, love?" he finally manages, his breathing labored as she continues to lower her core only centimeters away from the hard bulge in his pants before pulling away again.

She leans in closer to him until her lips ghost over his ear. The smell of her perfume fogs his senses and he can feel her unsteady breath on him, setting his skin on fire.

"You can call me Swan."

Her words send vibrations down his spine as she lets her lips linger over his skin. He closes his eyes, trying to contain every ounce of self-control that he has within him.

"Just Swan?" he breathes in a deep, husky voice. The lilt of his accent is thicker than usual in his lustful state.

"That's my stripper name. I don't give my real name to my clients."

He opens his eyes again and turns his head until their lips almost touch and instead fall slightly agape as her sex finally makes contact with his groin. He lets a groan slip out from the contact and he can see her emerald eyes glazing over with desire. Her breath is heavy on his as she grinds herself into him in slow circles and his hips jerk up to meet her, feeling her through the thin material of the thong under her feathered skirt.

"Bloody hell, love..."

Her lips finally pull away, but she puts her breasts inches away from his face to make up for the loss and he has to hold himself back from burying himself there. She moves her upper body sensually, keeping very little space between them.

"I haven't seen you here before," she says as her hands reach for his chest that's exposed from a partially unbuttoned shirt. And the moment she touches his skin, he knows he's a complete goner and that trying to maintain every urge within him to touch her is going to be a battle he might not be able to win.

Her fingers begin exploring his body, her nails lightly scraping along his chest hair. Her hands trail down his ribs and his abs through the material of his dark red shirt and he begins to wonder if she does this with all of her customers.

"Aye. My friends had to drag me here," he confesses. His hands desperately crave the feel of her body, but he reminds himself that it's not allowed, so he rests them next to her legs on the chair, the back of his thumbs almost grazing her skin. "But... I'm glad they did."

He gives her a look that radiates his need and desire for her as she continues to roll her hips into him. Her eyes are guarded, but he knows that he's made an impression on her. He knows that her job is purely to entertain, not to indulge, but he can see that she wants him. And for the first time in a long time, he wants someone other than his first love; he wants her.

Then, without warning, her hands latch onto his shoulders and she starts thrashing her hips into him. He lets out loud, breathy groans and lifts his palms to touch her but she slaps them away.

"Ah ah. No touching," she reminds him.

"Apologies, love." He lowers his hands to the chair and thrusts his hard member against her core, savoring this moment as though it were his last.

He feels his heart slamming harshly inside his chest as they continue to grind against one another. He's panting profusely as she increases the pressure and he thinks he might just explode in his leather confinement. In fact, he can feel himself approach the edge as his arousal takes over him and shock-waves of heat course through his veins, making his blood run hot.

Before he knows what is happening, she peels herself away from him, and lowers her heels to the floor. "Time's up, Jones." She turns around and starts walking away, leaving him a shattered mess as his eyes follow her body. Before she leaves the room, she turns her head back to look at him as her hand clutches the door frame. "Maybe I'll see you again?" she asks and he can tell that she's trying to hide the eagerness in her tone.

His mind still in a haze of passion, he finds it difficult to speak and it takes everything in him to nod his head. When she leaves, he lets out a long breath, trying to collect his bearings.

When he meets the guys back at the table, he tries to disguise the fact that he's completely wrecked, but they're more interested in the dancers in front of them to even notice. It's just as well because he's not about to tell them that he actually enjoyed himself for the first time in years and it was all because they had dragged him to this damn strip club.

~

Laying in bed later that night, unable to sleep, he sees visions of Swan in his head and he's unable to shake them. He pictures the soft, delicate curves of her body and the way she moved her body against the pole; the way she moved her body against him. He feels arousal stirring at the sight of her under his closed eyelids. His cock is slowly awaking and he can almost feel her against him, even though he has never actually touched her. He can see her vivid green eyes and her soft, pink lips as he pictures them falling open in pleasure. As he starts palming himself through his boxers, he can almost hear her soft moans in his ear even though he's never actually heard them before.

Wondering what it would be like to feel her lips on his and taste her tongue, he becomes fully hard. As he pictures what her soft skin would feel like beneath his touch, an overwhelming desire takes over and he reaches for his hard member, pulling it out of the offending material. He lets out a groan, feeling the weight of it in his hand and he imagines what it would be like if it was actually her delicate fingers gripping his cock instead of his own. He tugs and pulls at the skin underneath his head at the thought of her stroking him.

He pictures the blonde beauty's green eyes staring up from below him and her tongue delicately licking the pre-cum off of his velvety tip as he feels the sticky texture underneath his thumb. A rough groan escapes his lips as he begins moving his fist over himself slowly, feeling every ridge on his fingertips. The thought of her tongue teasing along the base of him from the bottom to the top ignites his whole body. His breathing starts to quicken and his heart pounds roughly in his chest as he envisions her taking him in her mouth and diving deeper. Hie quickens the pace, feeling warmth take over him as he imagines what it would be like to feel her throat around him if she were to allow him to go that deep.

His lip goes between his teeth as he wonders how the soft weight of her glorious breasts would feel in his calloused hands and how satisfying it would be to make her pink nipples hard between his fingers. His hips jerk upward into his touch as he strokes himself furiously and thinks about what he would give to just feel her skin underneath his fingers as they glided over her naked, aching form. As his arousal starts to reach its peak, he imagines what her hot, wet walls would feel like around his throbbing cock.

The thought of her writhing body as she rode him becomes overwhelming as he wishes it was her cunt that he was thrusting himself into, instead of his hand. He tightens his grip, picturing what it would be like to have her legs snugly wrapped around him as he made her walls her crumble around him. He feels his orgasm take over and he can almost hear her cries of pleasure in his ears, imagining her gripping his cock tightly with her aching walls. He lets out loud groans as he pounds himself until his seed is spilling out of him and spurting over his stomach.

He releases himself, his breathing shallow as he tries to regain his senses. A part of him feels guilty for thinking of another woman like this, but another part of him feels a sense of relief that is not just physical. He hasn't felt the need to satisfy himself in years and he senses that this will be far from the last time as long as Swan is in his head.

~

The next evening, he finds himself waiting in the private room anxiously, his member starting to twitch from just thinking about her. When she finally enters, their eyes meet as she saunters over to him, holding a seductive smile to her lips and the excitement he feels is almost overwhelming.

This time, she's clad in a black, feathered corset that enhances her breasts deliciously the way it was intended to. She's also wearing a sheer black thong that does absolutely nothing to cover up her mound. She looks even more striking than he remembers and he feels his cock straining in his pants at the sight.

He swallows thickly as she climbs aboard his lap, making sure to keep some distance between them.

"You came back," she says, as though she was expecting him not to. And he wonders if he's had the same effect on her that she did on him.

She grabs his hands, pressing them to the back of the chair and starts to move her body. He groans instantly as she rolls her hips, dragging herself along his groin, his member already at half-mast.

"I couldn't stay away," he confesses in a deep tone as she gives him a good view of her breasts and when his breath ghosts over her skin, he can feel her body quiver.

Oh, he definitely has an effect on her.

"Does your wife know you're here?" she asks in a low murmur as her finger traces his wedding ring.

His body freezes at her words and his features fall, eyes growing solemn.

"My wife died two years ago," he says simply, not wanting to expand further.

She lets out a soft gasp, but doesn't say anything in response, her eyes expressing it all as they become soft and un-shielded. And for the first time, he feels like he's seeing her as the person she really is; the person that she tries to hide under her armor. She reaches for his cheek, soothingly caressing his skin for a long moment and he turns his head to kiss her fingers.

Then, as if she's trying to put up her guard again, she grabs his hands, pressing them firmly back into the chair as she continues to rock her hips into him. She rubs her core roughly against him, eliciting a low growl and he thrusts himself up into her, seeking more friction.

"You feel bloody amazing, love," he breathes, getting lost in her heavy gaze as her eyes sear into his.

He can hear her breathing hitch as she entangles her fingers in his, continuing to hold his hands in place. Both the contact and restraint drives him stir crazy and yet he loves the control she has over him. He craves the feeling of her sending him to the edge only to pull away. And she does just that as she moves her body, coming close enough to almost touch his chest before she takes it away. She continues to do so a few more times until she finally grazes her breasts along the thin hair of his chest. He groans from the feeling of them and the soft feathers tickling his skin. She raises her body until his lips become dangerously close to the tops of her breasts and she doesn't pull away.

That's when he decides to be bold. As her hips make contact with him again, her stomach pressed against his chest and her bust only centimeters away from his face, he breaks the distance and darts his tongue out, tasting the salty skin. When she lets out a strangled moan, his lips dive in and he starts kissing the swell of her breasts, his prickly scruff scraping her soft skin. She responds by pressing her core into him with the relentless friction that they both crave. He groans with her and rocks his hips up to greet her as he licks and nips at her soft flesh.

At that point he can almost hear the tension between them snap in half as she releases his hands and cups his stubbled jaw, lifting his face and smashes her lips into his. They moan into the kiss as their mouths part for one another and his heart flutters as he tastes her tongue with his. It's fierce and rapid as his hands find her legs and she does nothing to stop him. As he lets his fingers graze along her skin until he reaches her thighs, he realizes everything he imagined in his mind last night is not quite the same. Her lips are softer and more tender, her tongue tastes sweeter, her skin more delectable.