Her's In Every Way

When you've never had something, you don't just take it. You devour it. Roxanne Navarro knew how to ruin people. She had spent years perfecting the art of making them crawl back, begging for more. She had seen it all—the weak, the desperate, the ones who thought they could play her game and win. But then she walked into the club. Wide-eyed. Innocent. The kind of woman who had never tasted sin, who had never been touched by someone who knew exactly how to make her beg. Roxanne gave her a night she'd never forget. And in the morning? She was gone, leaving nothing but a crumpled twenty-dollar bill on the nightstand. Insulting. So when she came back, Roxanne didn't waste time. This wasn't going to be a one-night mistake. This was going to be an education. By the time she was done, that innocence would be gone. And when she finally looked at Roxanne with that same hunger, that same need—she wouldn't just belong to this world. She would belong to her.

Her's In Every Way

When you've never had something, you don't just take it. You devour it. Roxanne Navarro knew how to ruin people. She had spent years perfecting the art of making them crawl back, begging for more. She had seen it all—the weak, the desperate, the ones who thought they could play her game and win. But then she walked into the club. Wide-eyed. Innocent. The kind of woman who had never tasted sin, who had never been touched by someone who knew exactly how to make her beg. Roxanne gave her a night she'd never forget. And in the morning? She was gone, leaving nothing but a crumpled twenty-dollar bill on the nightstand. Insulting. So when she came back, Roxanne didn't waste time. This wasn't going to be a one-night mistake. This was going to be an education. By the time she was done, that innocence would be gone. And when she finally looked at Roxanne with that same hunger, that same need—she wouldn't just belong to this world. She would belong to her.

The club was suffocating in the best way—thick with the scent of expensive perfume, alcohol, and the low thrum of bass that vibrated through every surface. The neon lights cast a seductive glow over everything, bleeding reds and pinks into the dark corners where hands wandered, where secrets were whispered.

And in the center of it all was Roxanne Navarro.

She moved with the kind of confidence that couldn't be taught, only owned. Lace clung to her skin, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders as she wrapped herself around the pole, bending, twisting—commanding the attention of every pair of eyes in the room. But her gaze? It was locked onto one.

The quiet one. The nervous one. The one who sat at the edge of the stage with wide, unsure eyes, looking like she had never stepped foot in a place like this before. It was always easy to spot them—the ones who had never tasted this world, never let themselves give in. Roxanne loved breaking them in.

She slid down from the pole, smooth and controlled, until she was crouched just in front of her. Close enough to hear the shaky exhale, to see the way those fingers clenched against trembling thighs. Roxanne smirked, tilting her head. Adorable.

She reached out, nails ghosting along soft skin, dragging her touch just under the woman's chin until their eyes met. "First time in a place like this, sweetheart?"

The night unfolded from there, hazy and warm, laced with hesitant touches and stolen breath. Roxanne took her time—let her explore, let her want. And by the time they were tangled together in the dark, breathless and aching, Roxanne knew she had ruined her.

But in the morning, she was gone.

And all that was left was a single, crumpled twenty-dollar bill on the nightstand.

---

A Week Later

Roxanne hadn't expected her to come back. She had hoped—had imagined it, over and over again, but hope was a dangerous thing in this world.

Yet, when she turned and saw her standing near the entrance, uncertain, hesitant, hers, something sharp curled in Roxanne's chest. There you are.

This time, she didn't wait. She moved through the room with purpose, cutting through the crowd until she was close enough to see the way those lips parted, the way those hands twitched at her sides. Still nervous. Still unsure.

Still hers.

Roxanne took her hand, fingers wrapping around her wrist, warm and unyielding. She led her through the club, past the flashing lights, past the watching eyes, until they slipped into the back—a private room bathed in deep, sultry pink.

The walls glowed with reflections of shattered light, casting shimmering diamonds across the velvet couch, the pole gleaming in the center of the space. But Roxanne had no interest in dancing. Not this time.

She turned, eyes dark, lips curling into something wicked as she pushed her down onto the couch, straddling her lap in one slow, deliberate motion. She could feel the sharp inhale, the tension coiling just beneath the surface.

Her nails skimmed along a delicate jawline, tracing down, teasing.

"You left me twenty bucks, baby," Roxanne murmured, amusement threading through her voice. "Like I was just some cheap thrill."

She leaned in, letting her breath ghost over sensitive skin. Good. She wanted her to feel it—all of it.

"But you came back." Roxanne smirked, tilting her head. "So tell me, sweetheart..."

Her fingers trailed lower, pressing just enough to feel the shiver beneath her touch.

"Are you ready to learn what it means to really belong to someone?"

She dragged her lips over the shell of an ear, voice dropping to a whisper.

"By the time we're done, you'll be mine in every way."