Making it clear that this doesn’t need to be a careful kiss.
I rope a hand into her hair, threading through the strands, then giving a gentle tug, just to see how she responds. A small catch of her breath, followed by a husky moan of approval, is the answer.
The perfect answer.
I break the kiss, and she looks up at me, lust drunk. “Do that again? Please?” she says.
“I’d like to do all sorts of things to you.”
“Like…my favorite things?” she asks, both flirty and dirty.
“If your favorite things include coming. A lot.”
Her eyes twinkle. “However did you know?”
“Lucky guess. I hope that’s not too forward,” I say playfully, though I suspect I know the answer.
She tap-dances her fingers up my chest. “Oh, I like forward. I like it a lot.”
“Good to know.” My fingers drift down, down, into the darkness under the table to the hem of her skirt. “Let’s see how I do in the first heat of the coming competition,” I say, then coast a hand under her skirt, up her leg, on the fast track for my favorite place.
She moans before I even touch her.
“But you’re going to have to be quiet,” I murmur into her ear. “If you keep making all these delicious, attention-grabbing noises I’ll have to stop.”
She shakes her head. “No. Don’t stop,” she whispers, as my hand reaches the apex of her thighs.
I bite my lip as I feel the cotton panel of her knickers, how damp it is, how aroused she is. My fingers travel to the waistband, slipping under it, over her curls, then between her legs, where they glide across that glorious slickness.
She shudders, a beautiful, silent shudder that sends a tremor of lust down my spine.
My cock hardens as I trace all that silky wetness. Gigi trembles as I touch her, her hand gripping my arm, like she needs desperately to hold on to something. To me.
She parts her legs, widening them, giving me more access.
I stroke faster, focusing my attention on that swollen bundle of nerves that’s pulsing, begging for touch.
Touch I’m all too happy to provide.
Her other hand grips the edge of the table, as she clamps her lips shut. Sparks sizzle across my skin as I watch her face. As I memorize the way her forehead furrows as her breath comes fast, then faster still.
As her face becomes a map of exquisite torture.
But the whole while, she remains quiet. Like a good dirty girl. “That’s right. Don’t let anyone hear you,” I whisper. “If anyone hears, I’ll have to stop.”
A soft whimper falls from her lips but then she purses them.
Dipping my face to her neck, I whisper against her skin, “So good. Just like that.”
I stroke faster, sliding a finger inside her sweet center and crooking it, hitting that spot inside her that makes her thighs clench, and her breath stutter.
“Ohhh, West,” she gasps. My name on her lips is filthy and needy. It sends the desire in me spiking higher, then higher still as she begs “Don’t stop.”
Such a beautiful beggar.
As if I could stop.
I have only one choice now. To seal my mouth to hers and cover her lips with a kiss as she trembles, her body shaking, as my gorgeous stranger comes for the first time tonight.
If I have my way, it won’t be the last.
And I intend to have my way with her.
Once she’s stopped trembling, I wipe my hand on a cloth napkin, press another kiss to her lips, and reach for my glass.
Down the hatch.
“Now, shall we get started on number two straightaway?”
“I don’t want another drink,” she says.
“I wasn’t talking about the drink.”
Her swollen lips curve up at the edge. With glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, she nods. “Yes, please,” and I lift my hand for the check.
5
Gigi
Sex plans are full of awkward moments.
This is the “my place or yours” dilemma. Or, as I like to call it, “if he turns out to be crazy am I more likely to be murdered at my place or his?”
I don’t seriously believe I’m going to be murdered tonight, but it’s a consideration for women—hence the baseball bat under my bed. I believe in listening to my gut. And my gut says that the only thing West is likely to kill is my bad luck streak with men.
He’s just so delightful in every way.
“I’m a fifteen-minute walk away,” I offer as we tumble out of Camp Whiskey. “Give or take ten minutes to rest if my heels start hurting.”
“I’ll call an Uber.”
A few minutes later, we slide into the back of the car.
On the drive, he’s all hands and dirty talk. His fingers glide up my neck, threading through my hair. “I’d really like to put you on your knees,” he murmurs in my ear.
That sends a ribbon of heat down my body. “So I can suck your cock?” I ask under my breath. I’m helpful like that.
“I like the way you think, but I’m not that selfish. I want you to ride me first, then I’d like to put you on your hands and knees so I can fuck you hard and deep, make you come over and over. And I’d really like to smack your ass as I take you over the edge.”
Unicorn. Called it. He is officially a sex unicorn.
And I’m going to ride him and play with that golden horn all night long.
“Are we adding mind-reader to the list of skills you’ve mastered?” I ask.
He grins, all wicked and sly. “No, but I can read your body language. You’re a woman who likes to have fun, who likes to feel good, and who deserves to be the center of attention. And your orgasm will be the star of the show tonight.”
“Will it make multiple appearances?”
“It’ll take encores.”
“Standing ovations too.” I don’t know that I can bear this arousal as the car cruises the final block to my apartment. I might melt into a lust puddle before I get upstairs.
But somehow, I’ll manage. I haven’t roped a unicorn only to lose him now.
When we reach my building, West thanks the driver, and we get out. I unlock the front door quickly. My hands shake slightly, but not from fear. From excitement.
Is it just the prospect of hot, sweaty, up-against-the-wall, bent-over-the-bed, upside-down sex?
Well, yes.
But there’s more to it. When I told West, “You get me,” before the cubing competition, I meant it playfully. Only now it seems he does get me. We vibe. We’re in synch. He’s like the ideal dance partner in my ballroom class. In a few short hours, we’ve clicked in a way I haven’t clicked with anyone in too long. I can’t help thinking this might be more than the no-strings hookup I imagined when I first spotted him at the bar.
I mean, how often do you meet a man who makes your mind tingle every bit as much as your body?
Shut up, brain, my body shouts. We’re in charge right now. Filthy sex first; romantic daydreams later.
Yes, body. You’re coming in loud and clear.
I briefly consider taking the steps two at a time, but my heels forbid it.
Also, I don’t want to appear overeager.
But who am I kidding? West knows how eager I am to get naked and shameless with him.