by Vivi Paige
We swayed together with the beat, hoops, hollers, and cheers coming from those patrons who had abandoned their own wanton gyrations in favor of watching us. Remember what I said about chemistry? Well, on the dance floor, that chemistry was multiplied exponentially.
Of course, all I could think about was if we were this much in sync on the dance floor, surely we would be in sync between the sheets… with nothing between us but a glaze of sweat.
The music turned grindish, almost vulgar, the sexual overtones overt and plentiful. Belle bent herself in half again, the motion causing her bottom to rub into my painfully erect cock through the material of my trousers.
I could tell she felt it, and judging from the way those brown eyes smoldered, she was far from disappointed.
The song ended, and a cheer rang up from the crowd, as well as a lot of applause. Nibs shouted, probably something lewd, but fortunately it was swallowed up by the renewed bass as the DJ segued into the next throbbing bit of industrial rhythm.
Belle still stood with her back against me, chest heaving and sweat glistening on her perfect skin. She peered over her shoulder, our eyes locked in a gaze that spoke volumes without uttering an audible word. I broke the stalemate by whispering in her ear.
“Can I buy you a drink, Belle?”
She gently disengaged herself from my grip but still held onto my hand. “No.” Her eyes swept across my form in visible avarice. “It’s my club. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Then it was her turn to lead, tugging me along in her wake as we ascended the steps to the VIP lounge area. I didn’t mind following her lead. Especially since my lower elevation let me see miles of her gorgeous legs. She might as well have been sculpted out of marble, sitting in front of an ancient Greek temple.
I wanted her so badly right then I could taste it. Literally taste it, her smell invading my nostrils.
Her skirt slid up, but not quite enough to give me another look at her panties. I speculated as to what nature they were. Lacey and black, but I hadn’t seen the bottom. Thong? G string? See-through brief? I put my money on thong. She seemed like a thong kind of girl.
She paused long enough at the door to the VIP lounge to take a bottle of Cristal out of a bucket teeming with ice. Her eyes coolly locked with mine. Pointedly, she glanced at the trellis that bore the champagne, where two delicately stemmed glasses awaited.
Smiling, I snatched them up in one hand with practiced ease and she pushed the door open with her free hand. Her grip tightened, as if I’d passed some kind of test. Maybe I did.
Inside the lounge, the music was somewhat muted, though you could still feel it throbbing through the floor beneath our feet. She tugged me into a curtained-off booth, where one of those round sofas with seating all around resided. We fell onto the velvet cushions, hips pressed together.
“Allow me,” I said, offering to take the champagne from her hands. She gave me a wry smile and then expertly circumcised the top, only a bit of froth spilling out of the bottleneck.
I held the glasses out so she could fill them, and then we clinked the crystal together with a musical ringing tone.
“What should we toast to?” I murmured.
“How about… fairy tales.”
“Fairy tales?” I chuckled, licking my lips in anticipation of taking her own.
“Yes… you know, good feels, happily ever after, that sort of thing.”
“True love?” I arched a brow.
Belle blushed, the pink tinge on her high, plump cheeks absolutely adorable. Cute and drop dead sexy don’t usually come in the same package. “True love isn’t allowed for people like us,” she said sadly. “But let’s drink.”
Our glasses clinked together again, and I drained half of mine in one go, even though it was the good stuff. I guess I was a lot more nervous than I imagined. Belle’s cheeks grew even redder as the alcohol took effect.
Then I pried a little. “What do you mean, people like us?”
“Don’t be willfully obtuse,” she grumbled, a trifle annoyed. “You know what I mean.”
“I can guess what you mean, but I’m not sure.”
“Oh please… you’re Coke, I’m Pepsi. You’re the Cowboys, I’m the Oilers. Let’s not call it anything other than what it is.” She sighed. “We’re enemies.”
“Enemies?” I shook my head. “You said it, not me. Still, the only reason we’re enemies is because of who we work for, respectively. If we were just two random strangers meeting on the street… what would you say then?”
Belle looked away, idly swirling her champagne around in her glass with delicate movements of her waifish hand. “But we’re not strangers meeting on the street. You’re you, and I’m me. That’s that.”
“That’s that?”
Belle turned back to me, her pretty face wrinkling in annoyance. “Don’t be daft. You and I could never have the fairy tale ending.”
I moved my face in close to hers, my hand resting on the top of her smooth thigh. She didn’t shrink away, her breath coming in rapid gasps.
“Why worry about the ending?” I whispered. “When we haven’t even truly begun.”
“Begun what?” She kept her tone low as well, moving her face almost imperceptibly closer to my own.
“Our torrid…” My hand swept along her thigh. “…scandalous…” My fingers inched between her legs, ever so slightly. “…forbidden love affair.”
Then I kissed her. And that’s where the trouble really started.
Not that I gave a damn.
Chapter Six
Peter sucked my breath away, literally and figuratively, in that little curtained-off private booth. His hand slid down my bare back and gripped me at the curve of my spine. One finger, his middle finger, slipped a bit lower to nestle between my cheeks.
His touch was electric, even more so when it grew audaciously bolder in its explorations of my form. I’m a woman who likes to be in charge of her destiny, and I wield authority with skill and aplomb.
But I was ready to surrender to Peter then and there. My body was already surrendering to his fiery touch. A deep throb settled between my legs and pulsed through my entire being as his hand slipped behind my head, his fingers sliding through my hair.
“Oh god, I want you so bad,” he murmured into my neck as his lips sought to explore this part of me as well. I sighed, relaxing into the seat and letting him do as he willed. The light caress of his mouth as it ran along my bare skin raised goosebumps all over.
My head buzzed with both anticipation and the heady realization that things were escalating quickly. Peter dropped his face between my breasts and squeezed tightly, seeming to luxuriate in the sensation. His hands slid up and cupped me, kneading and caressing through the thin fabric of my green mini dress.
“What are you doing?” I gasped as he abruptly slid out of the seat and knelt on the floor in front of me. Those were designer threads. I just knew it, and he sullied them by kneeling on the same carpet I’d just spilled champagne onto.
“I’m going to eat you alive.” He raised his gaze to mine, his voice dripping with the confidence of God. I gasped as his smooth palms slid up my calves, up to my knees, and then on top of my thighs.
My heart skipped a beat when his fingers curled inward, pressing divots into my supple skin. After one last glance at my face to make sure I was still into it—I totally was—he sucked in a deep breath of air and then expelled it at the same time as he shoved my thighs widely apart.
I stared down at him, panting like a landed fish with eyes half-lidded as he gazed in open lust between my now splayed legs. He moved between them, his hands sliding along the curve of my hips to hike my dress around my waist.
Now all that separated him from my pussy was the thin, diaphanous black thong stretched around my nether region. I knew he could smell my intense arousal because I could smell it, too. His nostrils flared, eyes dilating into black pools of molten lust as he breathed in my scent.
“What have we got here?”
he purred, petting my panty-clad crotch. My head flew back, lips parting to allow the escape of a wanton moan as his fingers rubbed through the panties. “So warm, and wet.”
My face purpled with shame, but my pussy couldn’t deny it. Not one bit. Peter gripped the front panel of the panties in his fingers and then tugged them firmly upward. Instantly my labia gobbled up the fabric, making it seem to disappear into my pussy. The sensation of the silken panties rubbing into my clitoris, invading and digging inside of my soft tunnel, had my hands twisting the upholstery into corrugated furrows. My eyes squeezed shut as he used the panties to floss my heat.
“What a cute little twat,” he whispered, his breath hot on the sensitive skin of my thighs. Still flossing me with one hand, he used the fingers of the other to stroke and probe at my swollen outer lips. “So sweet.”
“Touch me,” I gasped, cheeks burning with the shame of my arousal and my wanton request.
“Mmm,” Peter murmured. “Beg me.”
My mouth flew open, and I stared down at him in open shock, but my center panged with desire. He arched an eyebrow and tugged the panties up another inch.
“Beg me,” he commanded again.
“Ah…” I gasped. “T-touch me, please.”
“I am touching you. Be more specific,” he teased.
“You’re such an asshole,” I groaned.
“Beg me, Belle,” Peter whispered. “Beg me to touch you.”
“Please touch my pussy, Peter,” I said through gritted teeth, barely able to control myself any longer.
“Very well.” He pulled my panties out of my seam and then, yanking them to the side, exposed the pink sculpted folds of my inner labia to his gaze. “Since you asked so nicely. You’re going to be my good girl. Aren’t you, Belle?”
I glared down at him, that damn dimpled face grinning with genuine pleasure between my thighs. But something else hid in his smile, a swaggering confidence that I was going to say yes.
And damn it, I was ready to do just about anything so he’d keep touching me.
“Well? Aren’t you?” He breathed heavily over my hot button. Eyes squeezing shut, I thrust my pelvis toward him in an electric leap, unbidden by my conscious mind. “Aren’t you going to be my good girl?”
“Yes…” I whined, my cheeks burning hot from the shame of it all. I’m a strong, capable woman. A leader, a person who dangerous men twice my size defer to.
But right then and there, all I wanted to be was his Belle, his to command. His to enjoy.
“Yes, what?” he asked in a firm tone. The boy who wouldn’t grow up had a man’s hard edge when he chose to display it.
I hated to say it out loud, to spell out my submission and my need so plainly. But the petulance brought along its own thrill, adding spice to my urgent desire. My mons remained exposed to his sight, glistening wet and swollen full, aching to be touched again. All I had to do was whatever he told me.
“Yes, I want to be a good girl.” My heart hammered in my chest. I felt giddy, lightheaded, and short of breath as if I’d run a marathon. But the world hadn’t ended. I’d said the humiliating thing and the world hadn’t ended.
It just exploded into new awareness.
“Whose good girl?” he prompted, but at that point I was fully into the game.
“Your good girl. Peter’s good girl.”
“Right answer, Belle,” Peter’s hooked finger tugged my panties aside an iota more. “Good girls get rewarded.”
Peter gazed unabashedly at my wide-open cunny, his eyes glistening with an intense, almost animal lust. As if he could no longer restrain himself, Peter lurched forward, burying his face in my crotch.
I gasped, mouth flying open as my hands reflexively grabbed the top of his soft brown locks. Peter lapped eagerly at the fount of my womanhood, his tongue probing about in insistent, slow circles.
A disappointed groan escaped my lips when he pulled away, his face glistening with my juices.
“Are these expensive?” he demanded, tugging on my lace panties.
“Oh god… of course they are, they’re Dior,” I groaned, resentment and need dripping from my words in equal measure.
“Well, they’re in my way, so…” Peter grabbed the panties where they curved around my hips and ripped them asunder, exposing me completely. I let out a long, desperate wail that shamed me with its wanton nature. “…send me a bill.”
He tossed my panties aside as if he’d forgotten them, which I’m pretty sure he had at that point. I couldn’t forget, but not because I was angry. Because I found it so damn hot in spite of not wanting to be aroused by his actions.
Peter’s fingers spread my lips wide, his eyes absorbing every detail of my most intimate area. Not even my doctor had so thoroughly examined me, scrutinized me, studied me. I felt as if I were a piece of exquisite fine art being appreciated by an exacting critic and I had him enthralled.
I saw his face moving in again. An involuntary shudder trembled my legs. Peter wrapped his arms around my thighs, his fingers digging in as he took matters into his own hands. His lips traveled a circuit around my outer labia, up to my clitoral hood, and then back again, but he never quite touched the little lady in the boat.
After the fifth or so such circuit I grew frustrated. I grabbed his head in my hands and tried to force him to put his mouth on my clit.
“What are you doing?” Peter questioned in a deep, rough voice. “You’re not in charge here. Put your hands behind your head.”
My mind raced, conflicting thoughts and desires crashing into each other like ocean waves in a storm. I couldn’t quite comprehend what he’d said, but when I did, my whole body burned like fire. It was shameful and degrading to be ordered about in such a manner. But it triggered other sensations and feelings as well.
“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” Peter asked sweetly.
I put my hands behind my head, pouting at him for being so mean. Peter, satisfied I was no longer going to interfere, went back to his ministrations. His lips met mine, but not the ones on my face. He kissed me down there with the same lavish attentiveness he’d bestowed elsewhere. Peter greedily devoured me, seeming to exult in the sensation of holding me helplessly in his jaws like a prey animal.
He slid his tongue around in slow circles inside of my cunt, teasing the inner walls and seeming to savor the experience. He paused, murmuring into my most intimate flesh, just the vibration of his voice amazing.
“You taste so good, Belle.”
He latched his lips around my clitoris, sucking hard, noisy, and wet. My mouth flew open, but no sound came out as I sucked a great gasp of air into my lungs. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes, and it seemed as if I were on the precipice of a steep roller coaster drop.
Peter continued the hot suckling, expertly playing my body like a musical instrument. My cries grew louder, closer together. I was so close, so close to a thunderous orgasm.
Then he opened his eyes, blinking away a bit of moisture born of my own dripping pussy, and locked his gaze on mine. I saw in that moment how much he enjoyed my body, enjoyed controlling me. And he used that control to make me feel things I’d never thought possible.
That thought finally shoved me over the edge. I came hard, hard enough that I let out a series of heaving screams that frightened me with their volume and intensity. He watched me intently the whole time I writhed and thrashed about, lost in a sea of ecstatic convulsions.
“Good girl.” He lifted his dripping wet face from between my legs. I still rode the waves of my climax and was confused at first by his meaning.
But then I realized what prompted his kind praise. Despite the writhing, the screaming, the profound pleasure he’d wrung out of my body, I’d kept my hands behind my head the entire time.
Like a good girl.
Chapter Seven
Peter, I thought, you really did it this time.
Slowly, I rose to my feet and stared down at Belle, her golden locks of hair tumbling across her shoulders,
lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed… I could almost feel the warmth emanating from her body.
There was warmth inside me as well. My blood boiled, and it rushed through my veins to pool between my legs. My hard cock strained against my pants in an almost desperate way, pulsing with the rhythm of a war drum.
“Your hand.” I offered her my palm as a slanted grin spread across my lips. Slowly, she laid her hand on mine and I pulled her to her feet. I took my time as I reached for her shoulders, peeling her dress down her body, and she trembled in place as the fabric abandoned her. One quick flick of my fingers and the clasp of her bra came undone, her full breasts bouncing into sight.
“Belle,” I whispered, my eyes wandering over her perfect curves. From her tapered waist to her rosy, hard nipples, everything about her was perfect. “It should be illegal for you to wear clothes.”
“Then why don’t you lead by example?” she threw back, her voice thick with lust. With a dazed expression on her face, she brought her hands up to my chest and unbuttoned my shirt, her knuckles brushing the grooves and ridges of my abs. As the shirt floated down to the floor, baring my torso, her hands kept wandering south.
There was a metallic clink as she unbuckled my belt, and then a leathery rasp as she pulled it free from its loops. With my heart beating a thousand miles per hour, I kicked off my shoes and let her pull both my pants and boxer briefs down my legs. My cock sprung free, and it was as hard as it had ever been.
Fuck, I thought, this is happening.
With one hand on the nape of her neck, I leaned in and crushed my mouth to hers one more time. I threaded my fingers into her hair, my whole body pressed tightly to her, and a scorching heat spread all over. Right then, the only thing I could hear was the thunderous pounding of my heart against my eardrums, the muted music coming from the dance floor a faint and distant echo.
My right hand snaked up her naked chest until I had her breast under my fingers, and I held my breath as her hard nipple nudged my palm. Gently, I pulled my mouth from hers and looked straight into her eyes. A grin spread across my lips and I pinched her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, upping the pressure until her whole body trembled.