Sin City Seduction

Sticking his knee between hers as an invitation, she didn’t leave him hanging, riding hesitantly at first, but then moving her hips in earnest. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, ever been a part of. “You’re sexy as hell, Parker,” he breathed hotly against her lips, swallowing another one of her greedy moans. “Ride me, sweetheart. I want to see you come.”

So saying, he flicked open the placket of her jeans as his other hand drifted from her back to her breast, testing the heavy weight in his big hands. He wouldn’t have cared if she had small breasts or large breasts—frankly he was more of a big-picture person—but fuck if that flesh didn’t overflow in his meaty hands, making his cock throb a bass beat under the metal zipper of his pants. His hips started moving in time to hers as she rubbed over his leg, her hands grasping the lapels of his coat, tugging him against her but in turns pushing him away as she arched into him.

Sliding his hand in her pants, he found her slick and hot. He’d give a lot to be able to see her, to lick and suck until she was screaming louder than the music on the dance floor, but this was what they were doing right now. And then later he’d ask her to come home with him, so they could do this right and he could make her breakfast in the morning and then whatever the hell else she wanted. Hell, maybe even an actual date at some point.

She threw her head back, pale neck arched in pleasure as he ran his thumb over that sweet, lust-soaked nub. Changing the tempo and the pressure, he learned what she liked, what sent her closer to the edge, could feel the muscles in her abdomen tense against his arm. “Come on, baby,” he whispered in her ear, his thumb pressing on the verge of pain just to torture her. “You know you want to come. No one can hear you, no can see you, but you know they’re all there, just down the hall, don’t you?”

She whimpered against him, bucking hard against his leg, and he let his hand move farther down, pumping two fingers inside her, agonizing over his own arousal as her moans got lower, more guttural, as if the sensation was coming from deep inside her.

“Fucking touch me,” he commanded, unbuckling his belt and dealing with the zipper. He couldn’t handle it anymore. He wanted to slide his cock into that dripping pussy and fuck her in front of every single person in this bar, wanted them to see him give her pleasure. The music was quieter in their private corner room, but it pounded through his veins like the downbeat to his own racing pulse.

Her cool hand weaved inside his boxer briefs, pulling his thick cock out, the tip already leaking. Their eyes met as she lifted her hand and licked her palm before running her thumb down the underside, teasing, testing, gauging his reactions. He pumped harder inside her, using three fingers now, stretching and exploring, loving her gasp and her involuntary squeeze on his cock in answer. She regained herself, straightening her back and taking his mouth again as her hand flew over him. He grunted against her mouth as they got each other off with the entire world down the hall. It was indecent, erotic, lewd, and it was only a hand job. He’d had his first in middle school, and yet nothing he’d done since compared to the heat in his stomach, the pooling of energy in his back, electric tentacles grabbing his insides up in a rough, greedy fist of passion so tight he could barely breathe.

Frantically, he pulled her shirt up under her bra because he was going on her stomach—that was the only option at this point.

They were in a rhythm now. He was back on her clit rubbing in time to her quick, staccato strokes, designed to drive him insane with the featherlight abrasion of her hand. “Harder,” he instructed, his thumb on her clit following suit.

“You’re bossy,” she breathed, taking his order, her hand clasping around the base of him and dragging up slowly and firmly. He couldn’t get enough of that measured climb.

“Don’t know why you’d think otherwise,” he growled as her hand ran over the tip of him, lubing her up again to better handle him, to deliver even more mind-bending pleasure.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” she gasped, giving one last good tug before her head fell back and she cried out her orgasm. He swallowed the sound with a kiss, knowing that while they were unlikely to be discovered, the possibility existed.

Coming down, her eyes glazed in the dim light, she squeezed him again, pumping like mad until all his muscled contracted at once and he let go, spurting onto her stomach in thick bursts as his knees grew limp and worthless.

He met her eyes, working for his next breaths, and was stunned by what had just happened. The hottest moment of his life with a woman he barely knew in a club he knew too well begat a feeling of serenity he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe the senselessness of it was what he needed, a fling with someone who normally wouldn’t give him the time of day. Parker wasn’t a football groupie or someone who just wanted his lifestyle; she was someone who’d nearly fucked him in a public place just because she liked him. He really hadn’t known how powerful that would be.

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the two-hundred-dollar silk pocket square, and cleaned her stomach off, going against his caveman instincts to rub it into her skin so he was part of her. He’d save that for another time, because after discovering this kind of chemistry, there was no doubt that there’d be another time.

Gently pulling her shirt back down and dealing with her jeans, he dropped a light kiss on her forehead, brushing his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “That was fucking crazy,” he told her, helping her down from his leg, making sure she had her balance before taking her hand.

She just nodded, still dazed by what had happened.

Looking up at him, her mouth opened and then closed again. Before finally she said, “I need to go to the restroom. Sorry.”

And then she was rushing up the hallway.

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