Or maybe it’s just that I’m more drawn to her than any woman I’ve encountered lately.
She hikes up on her toes, her body seductively pressing into mine. The scent of her skin and hair hit me hard. Something light and soft and irresistible. Something that makes me want to lick every perfect inch of her.
“What exactly do you think I’m saying yes to?” she whispers in my ear.
“Me. Now. Here. Tonight.”
Her breath hitches as my tongue sneaks out, swiping at the line of her jaw. My hand glides up her thigh, my thumb dipping into the softness of her inner thigh. Those pretty blues grow impossibly dark with a hunger that matches my own.
“Tell me no right now or this is happening.”
“I want this to happen. Now. Here. Tonight.”
“That’s all it will be,” I warn.
“I know.” I don’t miss the touch of sadness in her tone. The hint of longing. But her gaze is unwavering as it holds mine.
“You sure?” I ask, studying her.
“Yes. I understand why it’s only tonight, and even though one night isn’t my style; I’ve wanted you for too long to ever say no.”
Taking her hand, I intertwine our fingers, dragging her through the crowded club to the dark alcove I already scoped out. I never kiss women in public. Sure as hell never touch them in a way I wouldn’t be okay with being photographed.
I spin her behind the black curtain that separates the main part of the club from an emergency exit, press her into the wall, cup her face in my hands, and crash my lips to hers. She responds instantly, her hands gripping my triceps, hauling me infinitely closer. Demanding full contact. Our lips move frantically, our tongues seeking, playing, dancing.
She tastes so fucking good; I can’t help but angle my mouth, deepening the connection and groaning into her.
She’s small. Petite with similar curves, just the way I like ’em.
My hands roam from her face, capturing her breasts over the thin material of her dress before quickly tugging it down. She gasps as my lips flee hers, stealing one taut nipple in my mouth and sucking it in. Greedy hands fist my hair, her neck arching away from the wall as I devour her breasts while skimming a hand up her inner thigh.
“Yes,” she hisses on a throaty moan, half her sounds being absorbed into the chaos of the club just steps away. Normally, I feed off of this. Allow the impersonal nature of it to be my guiding force. But something about this woman makes me want to hear all her sounds. See every sweet inch of her flesh. Watch every ounce of pleasure I’m about to give her.
“What is it about you?” I murmur into her skin, knowing she can’t hear me. The question is for myself because from the second I saw her, instinctively, I knew it was something. Some bewitching magic she exudes that floated through the club and snaked directly into me. It’s holding on tight. Making me greedy and ravenous. Making me want to break all my rules and keep her just a bit longer.
My fingers find the smooth satin of her panties, gliding back and forth over the thin strip covering her pussy, gathering moisture. She’s so wet, and she feels and tastes so good my head is spinning.
I release her nipple, working my way back up her neck with deep, open-mouthed kisses until I find her lips again. Pushing aside the satin, I explore her, rubbing her clit and toying with her opening. She bucks against me, grinding, searching for more. Her breathy pants and delirious moans float into my mouth, forcing themselves inside me as I strain to hear each and every note she produces.
“Trouble,” I growl into her, gnashing my teeth into her bottom lip and biting down just enough to let her know I mean it. “You’re fucking trouble.”
“Good. I never wanted to be easy for you. I always wanted to twist you up as badly as you always have me.”
I shake my head at that, not quite understanding her meaning. More hints of recognition spark to life but are just as quickly snuffed out as I push two fingers inside her. She rips at my shirt. Trying desperately to undo it. I use my other hand to stop her.
I can’t go upstairs after if this is missing buttons.
“I want to see you. I want to touch you,” she pleads.
“Not here. Not enough time.”
She thunders in frustration, digging her nails into the back of my head and dragging them down my neck, marking me, no doubt. “I hate you,” she seethes, emotion clouding her voice as I continue to work her.
For some inexplicable reason, I understand her sentiment. I hate her too. I hate all that she’s doing to my insides. All that I’ve never had to fight before that I’m suddenly fighting here, now, with her. I’m a hot second from saying, let’s go to my hotel room instead.
But I can’t. Not with a girl like this.
The kind of girl who wants more than I can give her.
I’d blame it on the Rockstar. On the lifestyle. Only that couldn’t be farther from the truth or reality of it. And where there will never be a future for any woman in my life, it’s best to not to live beyond the present.
“Let’s see how much you hate me. Unzip me.”
She shoves me back, my hand slipping out from between her legs, and just when I think she’s about to end it, her blue eyes hold mine as she goes for my zipper. My fingers find my mouth, craving a taste of her. I haven’t gone down on a girl in forever, and right now, I’m burning up with the desire for it. With the desire for her.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” she accuses, toying with me. Like she knows just the idea of feeling something with her will piss me off. Newsflash: Already there.
I nod my head in agreement, words clogging at the back of my throat.
She smiles at that like an evil temptress.
With my dick in my hand, I roll the condom on, lining myself up to her opening. She hitches her leg up and over my hip before leaning back into the wall, helping our angle. My thumb coasts along her bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful,” I tell her.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she muses, a light smile on her lips, her eyes dark with lust.
I blink at her, momentarily stunned. “Actually, I don’t. I never say that.” Then I slide inside her, burying myself to the hilt. Her back arches and she lets out a loud cry. My mouth takes her, stifling the sound. “People will hear and think I’m killing you.”
She laughs. “I think you just did. Jesus. Size thirteen shoe really does correlate.”
I hold myself still. Giving her a second to get used to me, sure, but how does she know my shoe size? That’s hardly common knowledge. Only the guys and—
“Move. Please, I need you to move.”
I do. I clear all thoughts from my head and start to pound into her. One hand on her hip, the other tangled in her long, thick hair as I take her over and over again. Her hands are all over me. In my hair. Digging down my shirt. Scraping along the fabric over my chest, abs, and arms. Her eyes are closed, her head is back, her mouth is open, and I’m looking at her. I’m watching her.
Yet another thing I never do. What the motherfuck is going on?
“Harder. Yes. Holy hell, Henry, just like that.”
Her eyes flash open, locking on mine. That with the combination of my name on her lips does something to me. It drives me into her harder. Deeper. I press against her and I consume her mouth. Our bodies move in sync, our rhythm increasing and Jesus it’s perfect. Just so ungodly perfect. I feel her body start to convulse around me, her moans turning into cries as she writhes in pleasure, coming without restraint. I follow her over the edge, the air sucked from my lungs as I grunt and groan and growl, losing my mind as flashes of light dance behind my eyes.