by Roxie Noir
“Is that a challenge?” he asks.
“Just a statement of fact,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
He waits a few more beats, and then suddenly he steps back and pulls my arm over my head and I almost go off-balance as I twirl around, my skirt rippling out to the sides, and then he catches me against his chest and we’re dancing again like nothing happened.
A few people glance over, and I pretend not to see them.
“You’ve gotta warn a girl,” I say with fake indignation. “Especially a girl in four-inch heels. That could have been deadly.”
He just laughs.
“Does anything please you?” he teases.
“Of course,” I say. “Nice men who don’t lie about their names, who call the next day, and who don’t try to kill me on the dance floor.”
There was a time that I thought I liked those things.
That time was this afternoon.
“I’m sure this wedding is full of nice men,” he says. “And here you are.”
“You dragged me onto this dance floor,” I say.
“You followed me to the bar,” he points out.
The singer is really wailing now, putting his all into this sappy old song.
Alex spins me again but this time I’m expecting it. More people are looking but I don’t give a shit.
“Fast learner,” Alex says.
“I’m pretty quick,” I say.
The song gets to its final bars and Alex presses me against him even harder. My heart is beating so hard that I’m sure he can feel it, and I look up at him.
He’s going to kiss me, I think.
Kiss me. Kiss me.
Just fucking kiss me.
He looks down. He smiles.
Then I’m falling backwards.
I goddamn squeal and throw my arms around his neck, but of course he’s got his arms around me and I’m not about to go crashing to the floor.
At the bottom he pauses for a moment with an absolutely wicked grin on his face, like he’s won something. I’m nearly horizontal and something raw and primal surges through me, like we’re in bed and I’ve got my legs wrapped around him.
I’m breathing hard. I lick my lips.
“Fucker,” I say.
He lifts me back onto my feet, and I’m still pressed against him, the heat of his body radiating through his shirt and jacket and into my skin. I feel like I’m melting, and as the band kicks into Hey Ya I shake my head a little in an attempt to regain my composure.
“Fancy enough for you?” he asks, his lips close to my ear again.
I take a deep breath. All I can think of is him, tossing me onto a bed and crawling over me, his mouth covering mine.
My whole body practically pulses with need. I’m nearly dizzy with it.
I’ve never felt like this, not even close.
I wonder if I’m dying or something, I think.
Probably not.
“That was good, but I expect more of someone with four names,” I say.
He pulls me in by my hips and the song gets too loud for us to talk, so I just let myself go, moving in time to the music. I groove. I shimmy. I shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Our hips are grinding together, and I can feel him getting hard, right there on the dance floor of this very fancy wedding.
He’s got his hands on the bare skin of my shoulder, on my waist, and then I’m reaching inside his tuxedo jacket and pressing my hands against his sides. Even through his shirt, I can feel that he’s pure muscle.
He could definitely toss me onto a bed, I think, and then I blush. He keeps stiffening beneath his rented tuxedo pants, and I shouldn’t, but I fucking love it. I love that no matter what he says, he can’t control his own dick in public, not when we’re dancing dirty like this.
The song changes again and Alex takes off his jacket and throws it onto a chair. He loosens his tie, and surprise surprise, he looks just as good disheveled as he does buttoned up.
There’s something just barely peeking out of his sleeve at his wrist. A tattoo. I only see it for a split second and then he pulls his sleeve down and grabs me again, not even pretending to play nice any more.
Before I know it I’m spun around, my back pressed against his torso and his erection against me, his hands still digging into my hips, holding me as tight against him as he can. For the first time I look around the dance floor, and I’m a little relieved to realize that other people are getting down too.
Then I catch Andrew’s gaze. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, not moving at all, a drink in his hand and his nose in the air.
While we’re looking at each other, he smirks and says something to the guy standing next to him, a guy I sort of recognize as one of Nick’s friends.
For a moment it works, and I miss the beat, my muscles suddenly not working right anymore. I misstep in my heels and probably look like a weird ostrich.
Then I think: Fuck it.
Go ahead, tell Nick that you watched me practically fuck some guy on the dance floor. That it proves I’m some kind of gold digging slut.
I reach up behind me and put my hand around the back of Alex’s neck. It’s hot and just a little damp with sweat, and then I move my hips back and writhe.
There’s no other word for it.
Alex makes a low noise in his chest and moves with me in perfect time and I let my eyes slide shut, not taking in a single thing besides the feeling of his body against mine, the perfect way we’re moving together, his hands on me, raw and powerful and needy as hell.
I’m fucking wet. I feel like my whole body is a raging river of seething want.
The song ends, the music stops and I’m breathing hard. Other couples move apart but not us. Alex keeps me right where I am, bends down, puts his lips against my ear.
“Where’d that come from?” he asks.
Andrew’s talking to someone else now, not looking at me, so I lick my lips and try to catch my breath. My feet are starting to hurt and I can feel the sweat forming at my hairline, threatening to trickle down my neck and into my dress.
“Would all the single women please congregate on the dance floor!” the band leader says into the microphone.
Nope, I think.
I’m not about to stand in front of everyone and jump for some flowers.
“Let’s get some air,” I say, and head toward the patio. I grab my clutch from my chair and Alex grabs his jacket and his drink. Just as Karen is standing in front of a gaggle of women, urging them to make more noise, we leave through the doors to a wide, empty patio.
It’s cool outside, but the air feels good against my overheated body. On a terrace below is the shimmering pool, surrounded by $3,500-a-night tile-roofed bungalows.
There’s no one else outside, and I glance back at the doors to the ballroom, wondering if this was a bad idea.
Alex just laughs at me, and I can hear a cheer go up from inside the building.
“You gonna tell me what that was or not?” he asks.
“It was nothing, really,” I say, but he just laughs again, like he knows I’m lying.
“Sure,” he says.
I blow a strand of hair out of my face, and I can feel a bead of sweat trickle down my neck.
“My ex’s best friend is here,” I say. “The one who convinced my ex that I was only dating him for his money.”
“Were you?”
“Of course not,” I say.
He holds his hands up, whiskey still in one, and his face is oddly serious.
“No judgment,” he says. “We all gotta live somehow.”
“That wasn’t it,” I say.
I want to talk about anything but my ex right now.
“So you saw this guy and went buck wild on me,” he says. “I’m not sure whether I should be pleased or insulted.”
“You felt pretty pleased,” I say.
“Hard not to be, tiger.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
He takes a
nother sip of his drink, and I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows, the muscles in his throat contracting.
“What kind of whiskey is that?” I ask.
“Scotch,” he says. “Smoky as hell, not suitable for delicate ladies.”
“I’m not delicate,” I say, and he holds the glass out toward me.
Something possesses me. I glance into his eyes, and then, instead of taking a sip like a normal person, I dip a finger into the glass.
Then I suck the whiskey off my finger, staring straight into Alex’s eyes the whole time. I feel like someone else entirely has taken over my body, because this is not a thing that Tessa Fulbright does.
But the truth? I like it. I like the way all the nerve endings in my body feel like they’re sparking and I like the look that crosses Alex’s face, the moment of surprise and raw lust.
“It’s good whiskey,” I say.
7
Alex
Tessa sticks her finger in her mouth, and I swear time slows down as she sucks the whiskey off, her perfectly plush lips making a pouty circle as she looks straight at me.
I know my guy Andres is waiting for me in the parking lot. Any minute now, he’s expecting me to bring a drugged Tessa out and stuff her into the SUV so he can drive her to the safe house.
Except I didn’t actually drug her, and now it’s way too late. I have to think of something else, but she’s standing there, sucking whiskey off her fingers, and to be honest I’m having a rough time thinking about much else.
But I’ve still got a couple minutes before I have to do something. Besides, once she’s in that SUV, I’m never going to see Tessa again.
If we’re gonna have some fun it needs to be now.
“It’s good whiskey,” she says, looking up at me with a little smile on her face.
“Take another sip,” I say, and dunk a finger in the glass.
It’s barely out of the liquid when Tessa sucks it into her mouth and licks the whiskey off, her hot wet tongue swirling around my fingertip, her teeth barely clamping onto the first joint, just enough to remind me that she doesn’t have to let go.
Now I’m rock hard.
The second she lets my finger go, I bend down and crush my mouth against hers. I kiss her hard enough that her teeth catch just a little on my lip. I think maybe she’ll pull back but instead she leans into it, parting her lips against mine.
I toss my glass onto the grass, not caring if it breaks.
I taste whiskey as her tongue curls into my mouth. I meet it with my own, winding them together. Her body against mine is soft and warm and I run my hands down her back and cup the perfect twin globes of her ass beneath her dress.
Tessa pulls away and bites my bottom lip, so I grab her ass even harder and lift her off the ground. She pulls her skirt up and wraps her legs around my waist and then I’m carrying her around the corner to a blank spot on the wall between two bougainvillea bushes.
The heat between her legs is tight against my aching erection, and the friction only gets worse with every step.
She makes a slight noise when her back hits the wall, but then her thighs squeeze my hips. I’m kissing her, my tongue in her mouth and hers in mine. She puts her arms around my neck and curls her fingers through my hair, pressing my face against hers.
I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
My hand starts at her knee and slides up the inside of her thigh, fingertips skimming over the soft, supple skin there until I find the place where her hip meets her thigh.
Her hand tightens in my hair and she bites my lip, so I brush my thumb over her panties.
Surprise, surprise: they’re soaking wet.
I pull back from the kiss and move my thumb again. When I reach her clit she lets out a tiny gasp and closes her eyes.
With her skirt up I can smell how aroused she is, and it only turns me on more.
I want to take her, right now. I want to hold her up against this wall and watch her come under my fingers. I want to taste her. I want to fuck her and feel her cum around me.
I want her to shout my name. My real one.
That last thought makes my cock twitch, and for a moment, I’m afraid I’m going to come in my pants for the first time since I was thirteen.
“We’re in public,” Tessa murmurs, her eyes still closed.
“You’re right,” I say, and slide my thumb over her panty-covered clit again. “We should stop.”
She makes that noise again and I slide my fingers under her panties, her slickness getting on my fingers.
“Do you know how wet you are?” I ask.
“Of course I do,” she murmurs back. “Do you know you’re hard as a rock and I’m hardly even touching you?”
Touché.
“Not yet,” I say, and I move my thumb to her clit, skin on skin.
Tessa inhales sharply again, and then her tongue just barely flicks past her top lip. Her eyes are still closed. I don’t think she knows she’s doing it.
Over to my left, there’s a brief glint of light. A car driving by.
I realize that we’re not far from the parking lot. I don’t need to get Tessa out of the wedding and past the lobby and through the valet line. I just need to get her thirty feet to the left.
If I can get her close to the SUV, pushing her in before she can scream is child’s play.
She sighs, her lips parted, and I feel a little bad as I bite her earlobe, my thumb still caressing her. I push her panties aside and stop for a moment, sliding two fingers the length of her slit before pushing them inside her.
“We’re gonna get caught,” she murmurs.
“Only if you start screaming,” I say, pushing deeper. Her breathing gets ragged. “Are you a screamer?”
“I don’t know,” she says. She opens her eyes and looks up at me again, pleasure written all over her face. “I don’t usually finger bang strangers at a wedding.”
“Well, try to stay quiet,” I say, and crook my fingers inside her warm, wet channel at the same time that my thumb strokes her.
It’s a little tricky, doing this with one hand while holding her up with the other, but it’s nothing I’ve never done before. Her breath catches in her throat like she’s getting close.
A tiny pang of sadness snakes through me: I’m never going to get to fuck her.
I’ll still remember this fondly.
“Faster,” she whispers, and I speed up even though my hand is starting to cramp from the odd angle.
“Bossy,” I whisper, but then I can feel her muscles starting to flutter. Her breathing speeds up and she clenches her fists in my hair, pushing our lips together with wild abandon.
I wouldn’t stop if a tornado came along right now and picked us up.
She pulls her head back, eyes shut, mouth open.
“Fuck,” she whispers, and then she comes, her muscles clamping down around my fingers as her thighs tighten around my hips. I’m afraid she might break my wrist, but I don’t stop. At this point, nothing could make me stop.
Her mouth parts and she arches her back, but the only noise that comes out is a small, soft oh! as she turns her head to the side, panting. I don’t stop until the muscles squeezing my fingers together finally let go and Tessa’s whole body relaxes.
I pull back carefully and her legs slide down me until she’s on her feet again, leaning against the wall, breathing hard and blushing.
I lift my fingers and smell them, grinning. Tessa clears her throat and straightens her dress, but when she looks up I slide both fingers into my mouth and lick them off.
For a moment I wish I could really taste her, but that’s not part of the plan.
She watches me, already flushed, so it’s impossible to tell if she’s blushing more.
Now I have to get her to the parking lot. It’s that or Manny’s wrath for fucking this up so completely.
I think of the men I know without pinkies. The pit of my stomach goes cold.
I look at Tessa again as her hand slides down
my torso and onto the front of my pants, then over my aching erection.
There’s the look of surprise I’m used to, the is that a flashlight or something? look.
“We didn’t get caught,” she murmurs.
I feel bad for what I’m about to do, but I’d feel a lot worse if I disobeyed Manny.
“Not yet,” I say. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
She laughs.
“Is it the inside of your hotel room?” she asks. “Predictable.”
“Not exactly,” I say.
“You don’t even have a room here, do you?” she asks. “That was Brent, not Alejandro Felipe.”
“It’s a surprise,” I say.
Technically, that’s very true.
She rolls her eyes.
“What kind of surprise?”
“I just made you come outside at a wedding and you’re asking me what kind of surprise?” I ask. “The fuck do you think it is?”
She blushes and laughs all at once.
“Fine,” she says. Apparently orgasms make her slightly more agreeable.
I lead her out from between the bushes. There’s someone on the patio now, and they look over at us. Tessa scampers back and grabs her bag, but the guy doesn’t say anything to her, and we sneak between the main hotel building and a bungalow to the parking lot.
Finally. I just want to get this over with.
I feel shitty that I nearly fucked up this whole mission and shitty that I’m doing this to Tessa, who probably doesn’t deserve it.
I just need to get back inside and find some pretty rich girl who can take care of my hard on, and I’ll be fine.
I slide my hand down and cup Tessa’s ass, one last time, and think this one’s for the spank bank. She shoots a flirty look over her shoulder as I guide her toward a big SUV that’s parked diagonally halfway between two street lamps, in the darkest possible spot.
“What, now you think I’m going home with you?” she asks, teasingly.
“That’s not the surprise,” I tell her, and give her ass one final goodbye squeeze.
I unlock the SUV with the key fob in my pocket, and she raises her eyebrows.
We’re almost up to the bumper now. It’s got dark-tinted windows, so I can’t see anyone inside, but I’m assuming Andres is in there, because he has to be.