"Do you want a private?" Your velvety voice cut Roman out of the daze he was in, sat by the edge of the stage, watching you dance. His eyes glued to the way you moved, the the rack of bills growing taller with every ounce of attention you showed his way. So when you offered him a private dance, how could he possibly say no?

He was a frequent at the club, you were new. He became transfixed. The way you moved, as if you were always dancing just for him. Roman had never seen anyone like you, never wanted anyone how he wanted you. It could have been the fact he'd only ever seen you in the highest heels and a lack of clothing, but he swears, he'd do anything to make you his. It wasn't even just the obvious nature, in which he wanted you, he wanted to spoil you. Spend his riches on you, get you out the club, so only he could see you the way you danced up on that stage.

As he sat in the private room, feeling you in his lap, hands glued to his side. In all of his time at the club, not once had he accepted a private dance. He felt strangely vulnerable, which was a rarity around people he didn't know. "I don't usually let guys touch me in here, but for you, I'll make an exception." Those words quickly brought the smirk back to his face, as you placed his hands on your hips. Roman wasn't sure if you just said that to everyone, to make them feel special, but at this moment, he didn't care. It had made him feel special. He wanted to believe that you meant it, that you felt the same attraction to him as he did you.

"How much do you normally make in a week?" Roman asks, head leant back on the couch behind him, eyes boring into yours as you moved on him, his hands gently squeezing the flesh of your hips. "Whatever it is, I can double it. Hell, I'll quadruple it. Wanna make you all mine."