The princess was enjoying her suitor’s pose. Leaving him there, she beckoned again, and another man came into view, dressed as a Scot. At least he wore a kilt and sporran, with tartan socks and black boots. Nothing else. He swirled, making his kilt lift, giving the audience a great view of his assets.
He knelt too, and Gen savored the sight of two men’s beautiful legs, although she couldn’t see more than the very edge of the Scotsman’s balls—enough to know he was naked, but that was all.
The third suitor wore nothing but a thong and laces that crisscrossed his body, bondage-style. Gen wondered what kind of suitor he was, but she couldn’t deny he looked mouthwateringly good. His cock, erect or padded under the leather, was ready to go. His skin was the dark caramel of a Latin American, his hair black, his eyes dark.
The princess lifted her leg, covered his cock with her foot, and massaged it. The bondage man pushed his cock against her, and they did a weird kind of dance. Him writhing, her caressing, her scarlet-painted toenails vivid in the only bright light in the room.
Nick murmured in her ear. “Which one is your choice?”
“The Highlander,” she said at once. She’d had a few fantasies about brawny Scotsmen in her time. Rough and ready but honest and true. “A cock the size of his forearm.”
He laughed softly. “So what’s mine like?”
“Adequate,” she shot back at once. “Unless you’re using a sock.”
“No sock. And from you, I’ll take ‘adequate’ as a compliment.”
She chuckled.
The Egyptian got to his feet at a signal from his princess and removed his skirt, discarding the glittering gold fabric so he could go to his princess naked apart from the snake bangle on his upper arm. He cupped one of her breasts, massaged it, then moved behind her to cup both, his hands a living bra. He nuzzled her neck until she turned her head and they shared a lascivious kiss, all tongues.
“Should I kiss you like that?” Nick asked.
“Sure. If you want.” She didn’t do a very good job at sounding cool. She craved him so much, more than she’d wanted any man for a long time.
“Oh, I want. I want to touch your breasts too, to kiss them and suck them. Hard, until you come.”
She gave a scoffing laugh. “You can’t come from having your breasts touched.” She’d read about it, but never got close to the experience in real life.
“We could have fun trying.”
That silenced her, and he slid his hand lower, grazing it down the side of her breast. She didn’t stop him. It felt too good.
The princess beckoned to the Highlander, who dropped his kilt and sporran to the floor. “Nice that he kept his boots on,” she said.
“You have a thing about boots? I have boots.”
“No, but it helps keep the story straight.” What there was of it.
The Highlander stepped between the princess’s opened legs and fell to his knees once more. This time he carefully lifted the gauzy gown and went to work on her clit, eating her as if he hadn’t had pussy for a very long time.
“I can do that too,” Nick said. “Better.”
The thought of Nick kneeling between her spread thighs turned Gen weak, but she kept her eyes trained on the stage.
The bondage guy showed that the thong part of his costume was independent of the rest, so he didn’t have to unwind everything to unfasten it and remove it. His balls were bound tight, bulging around the straps of leather that held them in place. He waited, his cock jutting proudly from his body, until the princess finished her kiss with the Egyptian and nodded to him. Stepping forward, he presented his cock to her and without hesitation, she took it into her mouth, deep throating him so her lips touched his balls.
“Talented,” she said. “I can’t do that.”
“I prefer to have my cock somewhere else. At least at first. Though I’d like to see you sucking my cock. That’s for sure.”
His lascivious comments had their effect on her, but so did the action on the stage. She loved it, watching this scene, knowing what would happen. So did the other people. She glanced around again. Some of the women were naked, as were some of the men, their bodies gleaming in the low light. One woman was draped along the bodies of two men, and they were playing with her idly as if she were a doll or a toy.
Gen preferred to take a more active part, but whatever turned them on was good.
The princess opened her thighs and slid down, making the Scotsman draw back, but that gave him better access to her pussy. He got to his feet and framed the princess’s bare slit with his fingers, opening it so everyone could see her. Then he used his other hand to insert one finger, then two, after which he licked them clean, showing every evidence of satisfaction.
The bondage guy was now thrusting his cock rhythmically into the princess. “Fucking her face,” said the wicked voice at Gen’s ear.
The Scotsman found his sporran and dipped his hand inside, coming out with a condom. “Safety first,” Nick murmured. “Every performer here has to wear one for fucking, even if he’s regular partners with the others.”
“Have you seen this act before?”
“Not this one. Variations.”
The Scotsman, now suitably armored, approached the princess, cock in hand, and knelt as if in supplication. He thrust, his buttocks clenching, and Gen knew this was for real. No simulation here.
She moaned, her arousal almost too much to bear, and Nick turned her head again, kissed her again. He tasted hot, and by the desperation of his kiss, she knew he was as hot as her. She wanted sex, good hard fucking.
By the time they emerged from the kiss, the princess was bent over the throne and the Egyptian was fucking her from behind. The Scotsman had taken his place at her head, and she was giving him a blowjob, her cheeks denting as she sucked, her hand caressing the balls of the bondage guy. Hot though this was, that kiss from Nick was hotter.
He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. His cheekbones were flushed, his eyes hot, avidly fixed on her. “Your place or mine?”
She had just enough time to say “Mine” before he grabbed her jacket and purse, and towed her out of the room.
The bouncers must be used to people leaving this room in a state of arousal, because the one here stared straight ahead as Nick hit Speed Dial and called a cab. It was waiting for them downstairs. He hustled her into it, then sat at the other side, not touching her. She knew why. If he did, they’d do it in the cab and probably get arrested.
They didn’t bother with the faulty light switch this time. She knew her way in the dark, and he followed her, his footsteps firm. Outside her apartment, he touched his lips to hers, a mere contact that sent a million thrills through her. More, she wanted more, and from the look in his eyes she was going to get it.
She was only supposed to check him out.
Now look where that had gotten her. Ah, what the fuck.
Chapter Four
Excitement simmered low in Gen’s body until the moment when she got the door open. The door clicked behind Nick with an inevitability that sounded like a beginning to her. Or an ending. Both in one, perhaps. The short journey had cooled her down, but that just meant from steaming to boiling. She crossed the room, sure-footed in the dark, and clicked on the low light by the bed. The blinding overhead light didn’t seem right in the circumstances.
He barely looked at her place. Studio apartment they called it, which meant one room and a bathroom. All she could afford, but she’d made it as comfortable as she could. She’d opened the futon bed before she went out, in preparation for—what?
“Nice,” he said.
“I didn’t want to share,” she answered, dumping her purse on the nearest surface, the low table by the bed. “This was the alternative.”
“I didn’t mean the apartment.” He took three strides, bringing him to stand directly in front of her.
She swallowed. “I’d offer you coffee or something stronger.”
“Later.” He reached f
or her.
She lifted her head as her breasts hit the solid wall of his chest, and he bent his head to join their mouths in a kiss. She’d expected devouring, hungry—the way she felt. He touched his lips to hers as he had before, but this time didn’t move away. His mouth commanded hers, and she let him support her, feeling feminine and fragile in a way she rarely experienced. She was five eight, and had done some basic self-defense training, so her muscles weren’t exactly soft and feminine, but whatever she had in muscle power, he had and plenty more.
As he deepened the kiss, slowly exploring her lips before inserting the tip of his tongue just inside her mouth, she recognized leashed power, carefully measured strength. As if he was fully in control of everything he did. He melted her, so she wanted to give him everything and then some.
Oh, fuck, how she wanted him.
He moved his hands, drawing her closer, pressing her breasts against him in an intimate collision of male and female. At the same time, he took advantage of her opened mouth and tasted her fully. He slid his tongue deeper, turning his head to meld their mouths more securely together, taking her from a different angle. Gen recognized a master when she was lucky enough to meet one. This man was a sensei of kissing.
His big hands easily spanned her upper back, and he slid them down to her waist, curving around her hips before returning to graze the sides of her breasts at each side. He took his time, making her feel cherished, caressing her as if he wanted to give her pleasure rather than taking it all for himself. One-night stands could be so selfish, each participant in it for what he or she could get, but this felt more sensitive, more…personal.
He traced the line of her backbone with one finger, then cradled the back of her neck, pushing his fingers into her hair, mussing the carefully tousled style she’d blow-dried it into earlier tonight. So long ago.
His kiss made her forget time, details, anything except his mouth on hers, her hands in his hair, the silky strands sliding between her fingers. She’d closed her eyes at some point, but she opened them when he finished the kiss and drew away—just enough to stare down into her face—and watch as he slid down the zipper on the back of her dress.
“Skin,” he murmured, his voice lower than it had been earlier, with a gravelly rasp that only made him sexier. “I need skin.”
She brought her hands to push up between their bodies so she could get at the buttons of his shirt, not caring that he still wore his jacket. Warm from his body, the quilted silk lining luxurious to her sensitized touch, she wondered if he’d leave it on and take everything else off. He’d look so fucking sexy, he’d melt her where she stood. Or lay.
He watched as she undid the shirt and pushed the fabric aside, allowing access to his chest, sculpted with flat planes of muscle. She purred as she spread her hands wide, encompassing as much of the glorious expanse as she could. Forget everything except this, her instincts told her, and she was only too happy to obey. This man was gorgeous, made of power. The way he was looking at her—as if he’d burn up in her gaze—made her feel special, something that happened too rarely. She tended to melt in a crowd, disappear into the background. Whatever the opposite of charismatic was, she had it. This man had noticed her from the start and made her aware that he was watching her.
He dipped in for another kiss and then drew away reluctantly, their lips clinging until the last second. His smile had more than a hint of wickedness now. “You,” he said, “are wholly gorgeous. May I see the rest of you?”
“And you.”
She stripped out of the remainder of her clothes with more haste than grace, but that was all right because he was doing it too. Only he finished before she did, even though he threw his pants and underwear over a nearby chair instead of dumping them on the floor as she had. He gave a light whistle, the sound sharp and true. “I was right.” He reached for her, settling his hands on her upper arms, and she went. She pressed her body against his and felt his heat against her, his cock hard against her belly, already damp with the evidence of his desire. Such a beautiful size for a cock too. Unable to resist, she reached between their bodies to grasp him. So good, hard underneath the silky softness of his skin. She touched her thumb to his dampness and drew her hand up to her lips, tasting his essence. Salty and masculine. He watched her, his eyes avidly greedy, his mouth partly open. “Oh, you are a wicked one, aren’t you?”
He lifted one hand away, and she saw he’d palmed a condom, presumably from his pants pocket. Seeing it sent relief surging through her, because she had some, but they were probably out of date. Although desperate enough to trust that they were okay, she was nevertheless glad to see he had something better.
He slowly examined her with eyes and hands and mouth. He bent to take a nipple into his mouth, sucked hard, then soothed it with his tongue, flicking it over the tight nub. He didn’t forget the other either, teasing it with one hand, pulling and tweaking before he moved down lower. All she could do was tunnel her hands into his hair and hold on.
He kissed her skin as if worshipping it, lingering at her navel until she wanted to scream, although whether with passion or frustration she wasn’t sure. Liquid heat collected at the top of her thighs, and he knocked her legs apart with a tap of one hand, a demand she obeyed without question.
After sliding his hand up from her ankle, he finally grazed her pussy, and she sighed in relief. He moved his other hand to her waist, holding her up while he examined her. “Pretty,” he said. “Very pretty.”
Gen bit her lip. She hadn’t shaved recently, just kept the area neat and her bikini line clean. She’d have liked to show him something more exotic, since she’d bet he had experience of that, but he seemed to like what he saw. He parted the outer lips with finger and thumb, and she knew he was looking. That knowledge sent her higher, faster. “Good?”
“Oh yes. Really good.”
That purring English accent did her in, and she pressed against his skull, trying to force him to taste her, something she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing with another partner. Gen was a responder rather than an initiator, a residue of shyness remaining, even though she’d lost her virginity a long time ago. Truth was, sex hadn’t played a very important part in her life. Getting off from time to time had worked for her. Not now. Now if she didn’t come, she’d die for sure. He made her feel that way.
He flicked out his tongue and tasted her. Not enough. Had she thought that or said it? Said it, it seemed, because he glanced up at her face. “Demanding woman, aren't you?”
“Yes. Anything. But—“
“The best treats are the ones you have to wait for.” He tasted her again, a longer lick. “Didn’t your mother tell you?”
She was about to remind him that this wasn’t the right time to think of her mother, when he swooped in and sucked her clit into his mouth. He sucked fiercely, all remnants of teasing gone, and she gave an involuntary cry of delight as sensation rippled through her. Her knees buckled, but he was ready for that, holding her steady with one hand on her waist and the other on her hip as he took what he wanted. He licked her voluptuously, generously, and she gasped, said his name, just to hear it aloud, her sensitivity increasing until she didn’t know if she could bear this level of skill any longer.
He made no attempt to muffle the sounds, and the slurping noises drove her even higher, adding to the sight of him doing it. She never came inside five minutes like this, but he made it faster. Not that she timed him—she was too involved for that—but it seemed that seconds passed between his first tasting of her and her scream as he rocketed her into her first orgasm of the night, all her senses coming together in a sharp, violent crescendo.
He drank her juices down, stayed there until her shudders ceased. Then he stood, lifted her, and laid her on the bed in one fluid move, like a dancer changing fluidly from one pose to the next. “No time for fancy positions,” he said. “I want you now. If I don’t fuck you in the next ten seconds, I’m going to die for sure.” Desperation was written in the tau
t lines around his mouth and on his brow, the stark hunger in his eyes.
She’d never seen anyone get a condom on so fast and so efficiently before, but he did it in what seemed like no time at all. Just as well, because she was burning for him. Although sensations were still swimming through her from her first climax, need rose fast and hard. She reached for him at the same moment he came down to her. She lifted her knees to hug his sides, and he guided his cock to her. Both sighed when he forged his path into her.
He kissed her, branding her with a Gen-flavored kiss, deep and sure. His body pressed against hers, surrounding her with his heat and scent. For the first time, she discovered the aroma of their combined bodies, a new and very special scent. So that was where sugar and spice came from, although there was no hint of frogs and snails. Men and women—no, this man and this woman smelled sweet and spicy and altogether enticing.
Spreading her hands over his chest as he lifted his upper body on his elbows, she met his gaze, nothing hidden between them. All she asked for from her lovers was honesty, and she saw it here, nested in the heat of his blue gaze. He gritted his teeth and thrust hard inside her while she pushed up, savoring the sensation of being full, where she’d been so empty before. She used her feet, planted flat against the bed, to lift her body to him, tilting her buttocks to the angle that allowed him the best access to her.
He took it all but was lavish with what he gave back, working her hard. When he found her sweet spot and she gave a small sound in response—an “ah!” of wanting—a smile crept over his face. “I knew it had to be there.”
“How did you know?”
A laugh rang around the room. “Are you kidding? Your body went lax and your eyes lost all focus.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and thrust again. “How’s this?”
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