He pulled me off his cock, then dropped his hands, and I sighed because I wanted them back. Holding me. Controlling me. Making me burn bright beneath his control.
“Take your hands off your pussy,” he told me, dark and intense, only another layer of roughness in his voice indicating anything had happened. But I could feel it inside me. “And lick them clean.”
I shuddered. I stayed on my knees and slowly pulled my hands from beneath my sparkling bikini bottoms. His gaze was bright and hot, and my nipples tightened even further as I lifted one hand and slowly, carefully, licked each finger clean.
I tasted myself, tart and sweet, and felt lust and need coil tightly inside me.
All over again.
He stripped himself of the dark suit he wore, watching me lick my fingers clean of my own need.
By the time I finished he stood before me naked, gloriously male, and packed tight with hard muscles. He was built along powerful lines thicker and more solid than any dancer. I thought I might actually die if there wasn’t more. A lot more.
And that cock of his that I could still taste in my mouth, deep inside me at last.
“Come with me,” he said, another one of those harsh, delicious orders that danced around inside me, kicking up light and heat and more of that dark, dark need I hadn’t understood could boil in me so quickly. “And bring your wings.”
He moved farther into the suite, not bothering to turn the lights up higher than where they sat already, low and inviting. There was the sparkle of Paris in the windows before him, but I was mesmerized by the play of muscles in his fine back, and his high, gorgeous ass.
I would have followed him anywhere. For free.
“Little dancer.” It took me a fuzzy moment to realize my gaze had dropped to admire that ass, but he had turned his head to look back at me. And when I lifted my gaze I found his mouth in a stern line that made my heart wheel about in delight and a kind of erotic anxiety bubble inside my chest. “You really don’t want to keep me waiting.”
Sebastian
I WAS HARD again almost instantly, as if I hadn’t emptied myself down my little dancer’s lovely throat.
She was glorious.
I’d controlled the way I fucked her, watching in a kind of greedy disbelief as she rode her own hands and then came. Again and again, red and shuddering as her hips rocked.
It was the hottest blow job I’d ever had.
There was a part of me that was tempted to repeat the experience, again and again, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
But I changed my mind as she rose.
Because that body of hers was like one long, perfect muscle. And I already knew that she was flexible. Lithe and lovely onstage, and even more so naked.
She made my mouth water.
And she did as I asked, reaching down and picking up those feathered wings of hers from the gleaming marble in the foyer, then dragging them behind her as she came toward me. I wondered if she knew the picture she made, my distinctly fallen, sulky angel swaying toward me on her bare feet, her breasts jutting high on her chest with her nipples hard. That mouth of hers swollen from my cock.
And her eyes all over me, filled with a kind of bright, hot wonder that I wanted badly to be real.
I tried to shove that urge aside. It was naive at best, and I was not a naive man. This was a transaction, not a romance, and I needed to remember that. I’d never needed to remind myself such a thing before, but this woman was like a drug. The kind of drug I never permitted myself to sample, too certain was I that it would wreck my control.
And I was nothing without my control.
Or so I assumed, having never released my grip on it after the singular, epic failure that had destroyed my relationship with Ash.
I certainly wasn’t going to lose it tonight because of a woman, no matter how she danced or what she did with her talented mouth.
She stopped before me, there in the middle of the suite’s great room. There were wide, inviting sofas all around, and handy side tables, but no inconvenient coffee table perched on the soft rug in the center. Nothing to work around.
I didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, and that, too, was a first.
Instead, I helped her tie those wings onto her shoulders again. Then I crouched down to hook my fingers in that sparkling bikini bottom she wore, tugging it down from her hips.
She lifted an absurdly graceful hand and rested it on my shoulder with the lightest possible touch as she swayed to help me, lifting one leg, then the other. I had the distinct impression that she didn’t actually need my help to balance herself. That she was touching me because she wanted to touch me.
Maybe I was a fool. But I couldn’t seem to care when my own personal angel was so close to me, smelling of sex. And me.
I’d had some vague intention of doing this or that to her delectable body once I’d finally got her naked, but now that she was I found myself transfixed by her pretty, swollen pussy.
“Hold on,” I told her.
That was all the warning I gave her.
I drew one of her legs up and over my shoulder, and she made a soft sound that might have been a sigh. Then she shifted, and I felt her balance again in an instant—confirming what I’d thought before, that she didn’t need any help finding it. That if she held on to me, it was because she wanted to.
I didn’t let myself bask in the pleasure of that, because there was far more pleasure right there before me. And I thought that if I didn’t get my mouth on her, I might die.
I wrapped my hands around her ass, bringing that sweet, soft pussy to my lips at last. She didn’t simply meet me. She bent back. All the way back, arching herself like a bow.
She was the hottest thing I’d ever had my hands on. And she tasted like sugar.
Sugar and cream, and I growled my lust and approval as I took her clit between my teeth. I tugged at her, then bit down gently.
She came again, flooding me with her scent and taste and impossible heat.
I bent to the task. I ate her like a starving man, growling every time I heard that hitch in her breath or felt her pussy quake against my tongue.
There were ways to fake almost anything, but not this. Not the way she flooded me. Not the way her clit pulsed in my mouth, and not even the way she shook and then ground her pussy against me, as if she wanted to fuck herself straight into oblivion.
Her body was a marvel. She stood with only one foot on the ground, her other leg hooked around my shoulder, and her hands on me from time to time. But she wasn’t gripping me in any way. She swayed with me, as if this was another dance. A beast devouring a beauty like every fairy tale I could recall, and all she did was arch herself back and raise her hips.
I was so hard again it was as if I hadn’t had sex in years.
And she wasn’t simply coming now in those sweet, hot bursts. She was crying out as she did it, her voice getting hoarser with each cry.
If she was faking this, she was the best I’d ever seen. And if she was faking this, she was far better at fucking than she was at dancing, and God knows watching her dance had nearly killed me where I’d sat.
She came again, her whole body flushing with the heat of