I shuffled my feet closer to where he sat, using what little visual aids as I could to know where I was going. Aside from his shadowy form, I couldn’t see shit. But it was enough to get me to him and hand him his water.
What it didn’t do was show me the extended leg in my path. When I went to step to the side to sit down next to Beckett, I ran right into it, making me wobble and nearly fall over. Thank God I’d taken off my heels in favor of flats; otherwise, I might’ve twisted an ankle with as graceful as I tripped over his leg.
It must’ve been my lucky day that Beckett was in the right place at the right time to save me three times—first from the cage, and now twice from falling over. Either that, or this was, in fact, a nightmare with as many times as he’d witnessed the most embarrassing moments of my day.
He reached out in time and wrapped his strong arms around my midsection, pulling my back flush with his chest. As if that wasn’t enough, he then fell into the cushion, taking me with him until we were both seated—him on the couch, me on his lap, and his very hard, very large erection against my backside.
There were only so many times a hot-blooded woman could resist this level of temptation.
And I’d officially surpassed my limit.
“Jen,” he groaned, as if using every ounce of strength he had to force that one word out.
I tried to move off his lap, which did nothing but wiggle my ass on his erection even more, earning me a few grunts and rumbled moans. The heat of his chest soaked through the thin cami I wore, causing my nipples to harden beneath the fabric. I had assumed he would’ve moved me off him by now, but instead, he grabbed my hip and held me in place, as if he didn’t want to let me go.
A small part of me thought this might’ve been his way of collecting himself until he could help me back into my seat. And had his muscles not been coiled and strained, I might’ve believed it. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough time to do anything about it before he lowered his mouth to my ear.
“Jen…” This time, it wasn’t a groan but a whisper, and it was full of unspoken lust.
I surprised myself with how gracefully I turned on his lap—I’d stumbled out of the cage like a baby deer on wobbly legs, tripped and fell while taking two steps, and then practically threw myself on the floor while trying to sit down. It seemed normal activities brought out the klutz in me, yet I could straddle his thighs like a pro. Maybe I just needed to assert my sexuality to keep from making myself look like I hadn’t ever been around a man.
Every last insecure thought fled my mind the second he grabbed my ass with both hands. I wrapped one arm around the back of his neck and cradled his face with my other hand. Feeling empowered by his subtle approval, I brushed his lips with mine. Regardless of how hard he gripped my hips or how intensely my clit throbbed, the kiss remained slow and steady. I wanted to explore his tongue with mine. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hot. It might’ve been unhurried, but it was intense, the kind of kiss that told him I needed him and didn’t know what to do about it.
Luckily, he was good at taking cues. He pulled me into him more, grinding me on his jean-covered hard-on. A low hum vibrated into my mouth as soon as I pressed my chest against his and rolled my hips in time with him.
He released one hand from my ass and skimmed his fingertips up my side over the thin top I’d changed into. It was just enough to make me wriggle against him, my smile slightly separating our lips. Yet it seemed to have more of an effect on him, urging him on, pushing him to the brink in a split second.
He palmed my breast hard, as if being gentle wasn’t an option. Somewhere, between the soft caresses and desperate touches, I became even more turned on. It was like this push and pull within me that left me overheated and needy.
Using my hold on him, I pulled us closer together, practically molding my body against the hard planes of his. It spurred him to release his grip on my ass and slide his arm around my lower back, bringing our hips flush. That one move had my legs spreading impossibly wider, which made his hard cock hit me at just the right place. We were both on edge; the intensity of his fevered kisses was enough to tell me how badly he wanted me. So I fed him my moan, telling him that I recognized his need, and it was a mutual feeling.
“No one’s ever made me this desperate before.” Somewhere, in the back of my brain, a voice had warned me against being too loud, not wanting to catch the attention of anyone who might walk by. So, with a lower, more throaty whisper, I added, “Or this wet.”
Public sex had always been near the top of my fantasy bucket list, and there was a good chance this was the closest I’d ever get to fulfilling that dream. It didn’t matter that it was dark and no one could see—not even me. The facts still remained: there were people around, capable of catching us at any moment, and I was one zip, rip, and hip thrust away from being filled by his impressive hard-on.
Unfortunately, it seemed Beckett had a different agenda. Instead of racing to the finish line, he chose to drag it out, and if he dragged it out much longer, I’d have no choice but to beg. Especially when his fingertips dug into the fleshy meat of my ass cheek, pulling a strained whimper from my throat.
With his other hand, he gave my breast a firm squeeze, and then ever-so-slightly eased the pressure and lowered his hand a few inches, finding my hard nipple through the thin fabric of my top. Without warning, he pinched, then twisted, not so much that it caused pain, but enough to break our kiss with a sharp, erotic sigh. I dropped my head back, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to enjoy everything this man was doing to all of my senses.
He brought his face to my shoulder and whispered, “You’re so fucking hot, Jen,” as he trailed his lips along my collarbone and then down to my cleavage. My top didn’t hide much, but apparently, it was in his way, because he curled one finger beneath the low neckline and tugged it down to expose my left tit. “So”—he sucked my nipple into his mouth and let it out with a pop—“fucking”—then he flicked the hardened peak with the tip of his tongue—“hot.” Finally, he pinched the sensitive ball between his teeth, pulling a strangled exhale filled with a drawn-out cry of ecstasy from my throat.
I threaded my fingers through his hair—which, from what I could tell, was a lot longer on the top than the sides, though not enough for a manbun. Then I fisted my hand, pulling the roots taut at his scalp and causing him to release my nipple from between his teeth.
He trailed the tip of his tongue up my sternum to the side of my neck and pressed his cheek to mine, his mouth so close to my ear I could feel the heat of his breath prickle my skin. “Tell me Jen…how wet are you?”
My whisper came out as a moan when I said, “Really wet, Beckett.”
“How can you be so sure without verifying it?”
Normally, I would’ve balked at the suggestion, but this time, the thought of touching myself in front of him turned me on more than I already was. Maybe the darkness gave me the courage, knowing he couldn’t see me. Whatever the reason, it had me dragging my hand down his chest before pushing my way past the elastic band of my leggings.
If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was using my sexuality to my advantage. After all, it was part of my job. I’d been trained to move my body in ways that entice others. It was all about seduction, regardless of there being women in the audience. And this was no different.
I tilted my chin so that my lips were next to his ear, flicked his earlobe with the tip of my tongue, and then rasped, “Soaking wet.”
It seemed I did something right, because he instantly grabbed my wrist, creating enough space between us to bring my hand to his face. I wasn’t sure what he planned to do, but he quickly answered my unasked question when he wrapped his lips around my fingers and sucked, slowly drawing them back out.
Just the thought of him tasting me left me needing more.
Either I was more transparent than I thought, or he was impatient and just as desperate as I was, because he dropped his hand to my inner thigh and grazed the sensitive s
kin through my leggings with his knuckle.
The slightest touch so close to my clit proved to be too much to bear.
As much as I wanted to play this out, let him do his thing, I couldn’t. I fisted his shirt and whined, “Beckett…please,” while rolling my hips into him to let him know where I needed him the most.
Not making me ask again, he covered my mouth with his, slipped his hand into my leggings, and swiftly slid one finger between my slick folds. I rocked against him a couple of times until he gave in and pushed his finger deep inside me.
The hedonistic sounds that came from each of us became a harmonious song of gratification and yearning, one our tongues danced to. While mine was more of a mewl, his was an animalistic growl that reverberated through my lips—the aggressor and the aggressee.
The hunter and his prey.
“Fuck…” he groaned and pressed his forehead to mine. “I want to taste your pussy so damn bad, Jenny.”
Damn him and the way he said my name—or rather, a moniker I hadn’t been called since I was a teen. It was like he added an A before the Y, turning it into the sexiest Forrest Gump imitation I’d ever heard. Granted, I highly doubted that was why he pronounced it that way. Unlike all the boys in middle school who’d effectively made me hate being called Jenny, Beckett had the advantage of a sexy British accent.
Either way, the sound of my name on his tongue, with his accent, had my hips bucking and core tightening around his finger. My legs opened wider, allowing him to add a second finger. It was enough to stretch me in all the right ways, pulling another erotic gasp from me. With every flick of his wrist, I rolled my hips into his hand, losing myself in the feel of my clit against his palm. Our movements were so in sync we could’ve very well been fucking. It drove me faster, him deeper, each move harder as if we were fucking in the backseat of a car at prom.
People moved past the stage. A curtain shielded us, but they were close enough that their murmurs drifted to where we were. I immediately froze in fear, ignoring the tremors that convulsed through my body. Taking in the situation, I realized that while I could hear that they were talking, the chatter from the rest of the room prevented me from hearing what they were saying. And hopefully, that meant they wouldn’t be able to hear us, considering we weren’t half as loud as they were. At least…that’s what I told myself to keep from jumping off his lap and running away.
Somehow, Beckett didn’t seem as rattled as I was about the interruption. Rather than remove his hand from between my legs, he cupped my sex with his palm, his fingers unmoving inside me, and lowered his lips to my ear. “They don’t know we’re here, Jenny. They are too busy with each other to pay any attention to what we are doing. Come on…be my free bird and relax for me.”
In an instant, I melted against him, the tension in my body gone.
“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”
The way Beckett said baby affected me in ways I didn’t think was possible. With his accent, it sounded like “baybay,” and for completely unknown reasons, it made my clit throb. Even though there were people on the other side of the curtain, his voice—and praise—encouraged me to keep this thing going.
I wouldn’t get off his lap until I’d gotten off on his fingers.
CHAPTER 5
Beckett
There was only so much I could do with the way we sat—not to mention, the restrictiveness of her pants. Granted, they were stretchy, but they still hindered my mobility as far as my arm was concerned. Which is why it helped considerably when Jen began to ride my hand like it was my dick, allowing me to focus more on the curve of my fingers and pressure of my palm against her clit.
However, that didn’t mean I sat back and let her do all the work. While she controlled the pace and depth, I worked her over in other ways. Such as urging her on with a hand on her lower back and encouraging words whispered into her ear.
“Being fucked in a room full of strangers turns you on, doesn’t it, Jenny? Does it make you feel dirty? Sexy?” All I got in return were a few moans and whimpers, but I didn’t need anything else to know she was into it. The way she fisted my shirt and grinded her pussy into my hand was enough for me. “When you come for me, I want the whole room to know that I’m the one who did that. I’m the one who got you off. Make sure they know that, Jenny.”
I could sense when she was close by how much her core tightened. And I was able to use that to my advantage, ensuring I pulled the most intense orgasm from her that anyone ever had. Just because I would be gone in the morning didn’t mean I wanted to be forgettable.
Grazing the tip of my nose down her neck, I breathed in her intoxicating scent until I reached the meaty space right before her shoulder. Her skin tasted sweet, almost powdery, with a hint of salt that drove me wild. Wild enough to open my mouth and gently clamp my teeth around her muscle.
That must’ve heightened her senses, because she went from impatient to frenzied, her movements becoming frantic as she rolled her hips into me like she couldn’t get me deep enough. Or, maybe, I was hitting the right spot and she needed more of it. So, I pushed my hand between her legs as far as it would go while she continued to ride me and curled my fingers as if scratching an actual itch inside her. Within seconds, she was on the cusp, and as soon as I bit down harder on her shoulder, she came apart on my lap.
What I wouldn’t give to know what that would feel like around my cock.
But as it stood, blackout or not, we could only go so far on the stage in a club while others were around, no matter how badly I wanted to take her in front of everyone. At least this way, if we were caught, all I had to do was pull my hand out of her pants, both of us fully clothed—minus the tit that still hung out of her top, though she had on a sweater that would conceal that long enough for one of us to fix it. Whereas, if I had my dick inside her, there were only so many excuses we could try before accepting that we’d been caught red-handed.
With her hands on my shoulders, she pushed her face away, though she kept her forehead against mine. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath she took. Even if I hadn’t felt the intensity of her orgasm, I would’ve known by the frantic way she pulled in air like she’d overexerted herself. That didn’t happen unless you came with every cell of your being.
I was England’s greatest rugby player, yet I’d never felt this level of personal satisfaction.
After withdrawing my hand from her heat, I lined her parted lips with my fingers, leaving behind a sheen of her own arousal. To my surprise, she didn’t flinch or protest, yet she also didn’t lick it off, which told me so much. It made me wonder what she’d do if I asked her to clean my fingers with her tongue. And as much as I wanted to do just that, I didn’t dare risk her pulling away when I’d gotten her this far.
Instead, after coating her lips with her cum as if it were gloss instead of her pussy juice, I savored the flavor by kissing it off her. Owning her mouth like she belonged to me, like we weren’t two strangers locked in a dark club, taking what we could get from the other. It was as though we’d been intimately acquainted for years, spicing things up by taking advantage of a situation we found ourselves in.
Unfortunately, between sucking her essence off her fingers earlier, and now tasting it on her lips, all I wanted to do was drink it from the source. I wanted to lay her back on the sofa, peel away her pants, rip off her knickers, and lick her until she begged me to stop. Hell, even then I’d probably keep going. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d swallowed the last drop.
I’d never tasted something so addictive before.
Jen pulled away, needing to catch her breath. Panting, she said, “That was…uh… I’ve never done anything like that before.” Pieces of her hair fell out of the lazy knot when she shook her head, clearly frustrated with herself. “I mean…I’ve never done this.”
To calm her some, I slid her off my lap, back onto the cushion she’d vacated when she left to get us water, and turned in my seat to face her.
The change in position also helped to adjust my raging hard-on that pressed against my jeans, trying to escape. If she’d straddled me much longer, there was a chance I’d do something I hadn’t done since puberty, and I wasn’t about to give her any reason to question my abilities.
“I knew what you meant, Jen.” I ran my hand up her thigh, stopping before I went too far, and just held it there, allowing the heat of my palm to flood her system. It probably wasn’t the best thing to do while trying to deflate an erection, but I needed to touch her, and this seemed like the most natural way, as if it grounded me. “No need to explain anything.”
My hand fell away when she pulled her knees to her chest and covered her face with her hands, which didn’t make a lot of sense considering I couldn’t see her anyhow. Regardless, something made her want to hide, and I had to give her that. “God, I don’t know what got into me.”
I brought my fingers to my nose and inhaled deep enough to give her a visual of what I was doing in the event she was looking. “I can think of two things that got into you.”
Thank God she was able to pick up on the teasing nature of my statement. With a light-hearted giggle, she smacked my bicep with the back of her hand. A pat, more like it. At least it allowed the tension to roll away until we were both relaxed, laughing in unison like two unsupervised kids who’d just smoked a spliff on their parents’ couch in the middle of the day.
“Tell me something about you, Beckett.” Her voice was so soft I wondered if she was about to fall asleep, and it made me frustrated that I couldn’t see her face to know whether her eyes were opened or closed.
“What do you want to know?”
She hummed in thought before voicing her question. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine. What about you?”
“Same.” Women didn’t like their age, so that could’ve been a lie. Albeit, if she were older, I wouldn’t have given a fuck, but there was no way to tell her that without accusing her of anything. Not to mention, it didn’t matter—I wasn’t marrying the bird. “What do you do for a living?”
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