“I care about you so much more,” he said.
“Brent,” she began, bringing her hands to his hair. “Let’s go to the room. I owe you a dance, and I’m going to make it so good for you.”
That was music to his ears. And his dick. And his balls.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Inside the room, she grabbed his shirt and furiously began unbuttoning it. She didn’t bother to glance around the room, to take in the surroundings, to comment on the thread count or the mood lighting, or the unparalleled view of the Strip from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Nor did he.
He saw nothing but her as they made their way to the couch by the window, where she pushed him down as she finished opening his shirt. She stood in front of him, bent forward, and let her long hair tickle his chest.
Fire burned in his blood. He needed her. Desperately.
“Forgive me,” she said. She was up to something. She had that twinkle in her eye.
“You don’t need forgiveness,” he rasped out as she began to sway, her hips moving seductively side to side. Oh holy hell of a hard-on. She was doing it. She was going to become his fucking fantasy. He loved nothing more than when she did her stripteases.
She trailed her fingernails down his chest. “How about a little music, handsome?”
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, and scrolled through his music at the speed of light. In seconds, Marcy Playground’s “Sex and Candy” blasted from his phone.
“Perfect for you, babe,” he said as he grasped her hips, and she wagged her index finger, tsking him.
“You know the rules.” She spread her palms over his chest. He inhaled deeply, his body rocketing with pleasure at the feel of her touching him. She glided her talented palm over the hard ridge of his erection, setting off fire after fire inside his body.
She was an arsonist. And she was a tease. She took her hand away.
“No. Tell me the rules,” he said.
“They’re different tonight, since you’re leaving in thirty minutes,” she said, hiking up her dress and straddling him.
His cock throbbed in his jeans. What he wouldn’t give to have her touching him right now. Hands, mouth, pussy—any or all of the above, please.
“What are the rules then?” he asked, breathing erratically as she moved on him, a stripper’s dance, grinding and teasing to the music.
“No sex, because I can’t bear the thought of you getting on a plane right after. Instead, we’re going to play fantasy night,” she said, swiveling around. She arched her back, her long hair spilling down her spine. Lust pinballed through him with every succulent move she made, every bump of her ass, every sway of her hips, every press of her against any part of his skin.
“Which fantasy? You’re going to need to be a little more specific because I have about twenty million fantasies involving you,” he said, holding tight to her hips as she moved up and down on him.
She shifted off him, and he nearly grabbed her and slammed her back down. Contact. He needed contact with this red-hot woman who was sending the mercury in him soaring to record highs. But she was running the show. She stood and brushed her hand from her breasts, down her belly, to her thighs. He groaned loudly, his right hand dropping to his erection.
“That one,” she answered quickly, eyeing his crotch. “That fantasy. The one where you get off to me dancing for you. The one you told me about in your club.”
He narrowed his eyes. She couldn’t be serious. “You’re here with me, and you want me to jack off instead?”
She nodded, and arched a naughty eyebrow. “I want to watch you touch yourself as I dance. I want to witness how turned on you get just from looking at me. I want to know how you’ve looked for the last ten years when you’ve lusted for me.”
“You’re a fucking vixen seductress,” he said on a low hum.
“I know, and you love it.”
“I do,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Show me. Show me what I missed. Show me what I would have walked in on if I had come over some night when you were fantasizing about me,” she said, her body in synch with every beat of the music.
He motioned for her to come closer. “C’mon. I want your hands on me. I want your lips on me. I want to feel you.”
“You will. But right now, give me this,” she said in a pleading tone, running her hands along his thighs as she wiggled her ass high in the air. She unsnapped the button of his jeans, and there were no more questions. She was winning. She was having her way. His dick ached with the need to be touched. If he had to do it himself, then that was what he’d do.
He unzipped his jeans, freeing his erection.
The look in her eyes was one for the ages. Her lips parted and she breathed heavily, sighing in admiration as he wrapped his hand around his cock. Finally some relief at last from the throbbing. The chorus of the song built, and she backed away, returning to the center of the room, inching up her skirt, revealing her panties.
Moving. Dancing. Swaying.
So fucking sensual. So incredibly seductive.
Her body was a dream.
Her eyes feasted on him with each thrust of her pelvis, each sway of her hips. The way she gazed at him unleashed tremors of pleasure inside him, knowing she was savoring the sight of his hand on his cock. His fantasy—her stripping for him as he enjoyed the view—was her fantasy too.
He stroked himself, harder, faster, not needing much right now because he was so damn aroused already. She unzipped her dress, letting the straps slide down her arms, then to her waist, revealing those twin globes of gorgeous flesh.
“Bring those beautiful tits to me,” he growled out, and she came to him, sinking down on his thigh, rubbing herself on him as she brought her breasts closer. In all the times he’d been with her this go-around, he hadn’t seen her breasts, so lush and full. Now, they were on display for him.
“Anything for you,” she whispered as she pushed them in his face. His tongue darted out, sampling a rosy peak. “Mmm,” he murmured as he licked her nipple, then drew her deeper into his mouth.
Then, she pulled away from him returning to her dance. “More,” she said, tipping her chin to his crotch. “I love watching you.”
“Yeah? You like knowing what you did to me when you were gone?” He shuttled his hand harder, working his fist over his dick as he had many times while picturing her. “You like knowing this is how I was? Rock hard and worked up for you?”
“Yes,” she said, as she pushed her dress past her hips, showing him the top of her panties. White lacy panties. Blood pounded in his cock as he gripped himself.
“Look what you do to me. You get me so crazy with wanting you. You love turning me on. You move your hips--I’m hard. You walk into the room--I’m ready to take you. God forbid you bend down to pick up something that dropped. You don’t even want to know what’s going through my head.”
“Oh, I do. I do want to know,” she said, sliding the dress past her panties, letting it fall on the floor.
His hand tugged harder. His breathing grew unsteady. “Grabbing your hair, pushing you against a chair. Lifting your ass in the air, and sinking deep into your sweet, wet pussy.”
It was her turn to moan, a throaty, feminine moan that made his balls tighten. She returned to him, clad only in her panties and the shoes he’d bought for her. “I love watching you touch yourself, knowing you’re thinking of fucking me.”
“I’m always thinking of fucking you, Shannon,” he said, on an upstroke. His spine tingled as she resumed her lap dance, her heat mercilessly close to his dick. He was going to come soon.