The club throbbed with bass so heavy it rattled Lola Rivera's bones. She leaned against the pole, body glittering under the neon lights, hips swaying with a rhythm that was pure temptation. Every eye in the room followed her, drawn to the reckless confidence she radiated.
Lola didn't care. She thrived on it. The heat of lust, the power in being desired, the rush of watching men who thought they controlled the world beg for her attention—it was intoxicating. She loved it all. The night, the lights, the bodies, and the sweet, forbidden pleasure.
She had just finished a set, breathing hard, sweat gleaming along the curve of her neck, when he walked in.
He didn't move like the others. There was no swagger, no casual confidence. Luca Moretti stood near the doorway like a statue carved from marble, perfectly tailored suit hugging the right angles, eyes sharp and calculating. But there was something else—something that made Lola's pulse hit double time.
He didn't look at her the way everyone else did. Not with lust, not with possession, not even curiosity. He looked at her as if he had never seen a woman before. And in a strange, thrilling way, that made her want him even more.
Lola smirked, spinning on the pole, letting her gaze catch his.
He didn't flinch. He didn't smile. He just studied her. Cold. Focused.
Most men would have tried to talk to her by now, but Luca wasn't most men. He had been raised in a world where women were distractions and marriage was a business deal—love was a waste of time, sex was irrelevant, and desire was a liability. But now… her presence had lit a spark he hadn't expected.
The moment she slid off the pole and strutted across the stage to the bar, she could feel his eyes follow her like a predator studying prey.
"First time here?" she asked, leaning against the counter with a teasing tilt of her hip.
Luca's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Yes." His voice was low, calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something unfamiliar… curiosity.
"Relax, handsome," Lola said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I promise I don't bite… unless you want me to."
He stiffened. His chest rose and fell, clearly unaccustomed to flirty innuendo. His hands, which were usually steady in the boardroom or at a negotiation table, now twitched slightly as if he didn't know what to do with them.
"Oh," she thought with a smirk, "he's a virgin. A cold, untouchable virgin. And he's not used to women like me. Perfect."
The First Taste of Desire
Lola slid off her stool and sauntered closer. "I'm Lola," she said, letting her fingers brush the edge of his sleeve lightly. Electric.
"Luca Moretti," he replied, stiffly. He was all precision and control, and yet she could see the tension in his jaw, the slight widening of his eyes, the way his chest tightened.
Lola leaned in, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "You know, some men spend their lives chasing me," she whispered, letting her warm breath tickle his skin. "But I get the feeling… you're going to be different."
Something clicked in him. A low, dangerous hum of curiosity, need, and something that wasn't entirely business. He wanted her—not the usual kind of want, the kind he thought he could control—but the deep, primal pull that Lola radiated effortlessly.
"I… I don't…" he stammered, unused to words failing him.
She laughed softly, a sound like silk and smoke. "Don't think," she said. "Just watch."
And she danced again. Every movement was deliberate, a challenge, a provocation. Her body moved like fire, teasing, daring, tempting him to abandon control.
By the time she slipped into his personal space, Luca could no longer deny the tension coiling in his chest. Something primal, feral, and addictive had awakened in him. She was intoxicating, and he couldn't take his eyes off her.
The First Claim
The club had emptied slightly, the air thick with heat and anticipation. Lola took his hand, playful but firm, and guided him to a quiet lounge in the back.
"Don't tell me you're afraid," she murmured. "I bite… sometimes."
"I'm not…" Luca started. His words caught in his throat. He had never wanted anything like this before. He didn't know what to do. And that was what thrilled him most—the danger, the uncertainty, the intense pull of desire he had never experienced.
She laughed, and it was melodic, teasing, hypnotic. Then she kissed him. Not gentle, not polite, but fierce and claiming, letting him taste the freedom and fire he had never imagined.
His hands tightened on her waist instinctively, though he had no idea what he was doing. Every kiss, every touch, every sigh pulled him deeper into something he had always dismissed as unnecessary… until now.
The Obsession Begins
That night, Luca returned home, mind spinning. He had always seen women as distractions. Always. Sex had been a transaction, a duty, or an annoyance. But Lola… she had awoken something dangerous. Something addictive. Something he couldn't control.
And Lola? She had never met anyone like him. Cold, unyielding, precise… yet there was an innocence, a raw hunger beneath the surface. He was virgin territory, untapped, and fiercely protective—even of feelings he hadn't yet admitted.
She smiled to herself as she left the club that night. He would come back. He had no choice. Something about him craved her fire—and she was more than ready to give it.