by Marie Harte
So much for taking charge. She could do nothing but follow as he stole her breath and turned her body into a pliant mass of need. Everywhere they connected felt hot, and her breasts ached as she imagined him touching her intimately.
“Yeah, that’s so good,” he murmured against her lips before angling her head for better access.
She stole a short breath of air before falling under his sorcery once more. When he dragged her closer to his body, letting her feel all the hard places under her, she shivered and gripped his arms hard enough to leave marks. But that only seemed to entice him. Johnny threaded his hands in her hair, holding her right where he wanted her.
The feeling of being controlled made her melt, because she’d imagined a real kiss with Johnny, and it had been hot, but not half as good as the real thing. Lara squirmed on top of him, lost to a primal need.
“More,” he growled and hugged the small of her back, pulling her into a massive erection growing more solid beneath her by the second.
She moaned and ground against him, and he bucked up into her. She couldn’t think, lost to a lust she hadn’t felt in years, if ever. Never had she been so desperate for sex. She wrenched her mouth away and moved her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. “Please,” she begged, not sure what she was asking for.
Johnny to make love to her? To ease the burning ache between her legs?
He answered by staring into her eyes and dragging his hands up her sensitive ribs to her breasts. Watching her all the while, he stopped before fully cupping her, then trailed his fingers back down toward her jeans.
Excitement had her inching up to give him more access. But Johnny gave a mean grin and changed the direction of his hands again.
“Uh-uh, baby. No rushing this.”
She blew out a breath and watched his hair flutter. “Kiss me.”
He accepted her hungry mouth, and as he did, his hands moved down to the bottom of her shirt again, but this time they slipped underneath.
When his palms met bare skin, she gasped into his mouth, and he penetrated with his tongue, mimicking what she hoped to hell he’d soon be doing with his cock. Once he eased back on the kiss, she moved her mouth to his ear and nipped his earlobe, gratified when he jerked up into her, his erection nearly poking a hole through her belly.
“Naughty girl.” He tilted his head up to give her better access, while his large hands finally found her breasts. He cupped the mounds, and she soaked her panties, so aroused she couldn’t breathe. His thumbs followed, riding over the crest of each nipple as he watched her lose all sense.
“So fucking sexy,” he muttered and somehow fitted his hands inside her bra cups, so his callused palms rested against her hot flesh. “Christ, I’m close.”
Close to heaven, was all she could think as she kept grinding over him, seeking a release that still wasn’t near enough. She kissed him again, mashing against his lips, desperate to come. How had she never noticed how good he smelled? And the taste of him went straight to that hungry place between her legs.
She kept touching him, finding purchase in the firm breadth of his chest. As she moved her hands, so did he. Pinching, teasing, caressing, his fingers were like magic, and she wondered if she might orgasm from just that. But then those clever fingers moved south, right where she needed them.
He delved down, unbuttoning her jeans and unzipping them in one smooth move before his fingers disappeared under her panties.
She cried out against his mouth and tried to take him inside her, but the stubborn man refused to finish with any haste. Instead, he slid his fingers along her folds, grazing but not giving her enough pressure.
“Lara, baby,” he whispered. “You’re so wet.”
“In me,” she begged. “Please.” She wasn’t sure what she meant, wanting his fingers, his cock, hell, anything to put out the fire burning her from the inside out.
He answered by shoving a finger deep inside her while another rubbed her clit.
Lara climaxed hard, gripping that finger for all she was worth as she yelled out and came.
He pumped a few more times against her while adding a second finger inside her.
Her orgasm seemed to last forever, and then her sensitivity became too much to bear. She reached between them to ease his hand away and rubbed against him in the process. Apparently that was the extra bit he needed to find satisfaction, because he groaned long and loud and stopped bucking against her.
“Yeah, oh yeah.” He closed his eyes, his fingers hot and damp against her belly.
She collapsed against him, burying her head in his chest while her hormones vacated what used to be a rational single woman wanting no entanglements.
Oh my God. I just got off with Johnny Devlin.
Johnny’s chest rose and fell, gradually easing into even breathing.
Lara had never hidden from confrontation, but she didn’t know what to say. One friggin’ date, and she’d let him do her? Could she be any easier?
Could she care any less?
She hadn’t had a man-stimulated orgasm in two years. And that included her last few boring boyfriends.
Nothing at all boring about Johnny though. She still wondered what he looked like naked, and having felt him large and thick underneath her, she kept imagining what he’d feel like inside her. Perfection, no doubt.
She inwardly berated herself for being such a chicken and raised her head. Johnny turned his gaze from the ceiling to her. His voice sounded like gravel when he said, “I totally need to clean up.”
She flushed. “Oh, um, sure.” She slowly got up, feeling dizzy and still so relaxed she might as well have been a wet noodle.
“I know where to go.” He got to his feet and winced, then adjusted himself in his jeans before disappearing down the hall.
She fixed her own clothing, putting her bra back to rights and fastening her jeans. She’d have to clean up once he left, because no way was she going to drop her pants and wipe herself up in the kitchen.
What to do with him now was the question. Lara had no idea how Johnny would act. From what she knew, usually once he’d had his fun with a woman, he moved on. But he’d always been up front with his “girlfriends,” at least, that’s what Rena had told her. Rena knew everything about everyone, thus her career field in hairdressing—a natural fit.
She heard a toilet flush and the sink running. Johnny reappeared, looking calm and replete.
And why shouldn’t he? He’d come in his jeans while she’d ground all over the poor guy. Should she apologize? Thank him? She’d never been in this kind of situation before. Lara didn’t do one-night stands.
“So tonight.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I hadn’t prepared for this.”
“Neither had I.”
His somber expression unnerved her. “I feel a little…used.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, you took advantage of me.”
“I—what?”
“You kissed me.”
“You kissed me first. At the theater.” Was he serious?
“Well, sure. You looked so cute, full of excitement over a demonic doll. But the sex… That’s heavy stuff. I normally lay out the rules before I get with a girl.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Is that right?”
“That way no one gets upset afterward. I’m an easy guy to understand.”
“So I hear.”
He nodded, earnest. And that look of sincerity on such a sexy, mischievous face had her wanting to do him all over again. This time without any clothes between them.
What the hell is happening to me? Where had her raging libido come from?
“You are totally shitting me,” she said, blunt, direct, and daring him to disagree.
“I totally am.” His slow smile melted her anger.
“You’re a jerk.”
“Right again.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the look on your face. Lara, I’m not gonna lie. I was hoping for another good-night kis
s. But that…all of it…was so beyond my expectations. So fucking hot.” He blew out a breath, and she knew it would be all right. He’d tease, make her feel good while leaving, and they’d go their separate ways. No awkwardness at Ray’s for them, not like it was for Sue and Foley.
She winked at him, telling herself not to feel let down. Dinner, a movie, and an orgasm. Not a bad way to spend a night. Plus, she’d never classify Johnny as casual. She’d known him for years. “You weren’t so bad yourself, he of the magic fingers.”
Johnny sighed. “Talk about a night to remember.”
She smiled at him, at ease and not feeling as whorish as she should. Del or Rena would tell her to stop being so dramatic. Women could have sex whenever they wanted and with whomever they wanted. Being sexual did not equate to slutting around. She knew that. But it did make her feel a lot like her sister. And that she could have done without.
“So I guess I’ll—”
“When are we going out again?” he asked, and leaned back against the wall, facing her. “I mean, we are going out again, right? You didn’t just use me for a quickie, did you?”
“First of all, quickie?” Her heart raced. He wants to go out again. Imaginary fist pump. Yes! “I was begging for you to get me off, and you took forever.”
“Someone needs to learn a little patience.” That familiar smirk was back.
“For-ev-er,” she reiterated. Sparring with Johnny was akin to foreplay. It seemed to lead to a deepening connection between them. Or else she’d let the sex go to her head. Just because the guy wanted to date her again didn’t mean it wasn’t about getting into her pants.
“Point being, you did get off,” he said.
“So did you.”
“I know. So embarrassing. I can last a lot longer than that.”
“Ah. So another date to prove you can?”
He frowned. “I was kind of thinking we could hang out with sex off the table.”
“Huh?” Did he not want her again? Had she turned him off? Could she stop being neurotic for ten freakin’ seconds?
“You know. A date between friends.”
“Friends.” He didn’t want her. Depressing, and just when she’d found a guy who could get her off like a rocket.
“Actually, friends first. I want to fuck you into tomorrow, but I’d feel better about it if we went out a few times to get to know each other better.” He cleared his throat, looking almost…nervous?
She kept staring at him, befuddled.
“I mean, everyone knows how choosy you are.” He scowled. “You don’t date guys at Ray’s.”
“Ah. So this is about bragging rights.”
“No.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Would you shut up for two seconds and let me finish?”
She found herself smiling, when any other guy telling her to shut up would have gotten the door.
“I didn’t tell the guys we were going on a date. I don’t kiss and tell.” He shrugged and added, “Not all the time.”
“Ah-ha.”
“But I’d like to spend time with you. Like real people do in relationships.”
Her heart threatened to leap from her chest. “So we’re going out now?”
“Oh my God. You are so annoying.” He stepped close, kissed her breathless, then strode for the door. “Before I forget myself and fuck you against the wall, I’m leaving. We’re going out again. Just you and me. And it’s no one’s business but ours. Right?”
“Um. Right. Ours. Sure.” She rubbed her tingling lips, staring at him.
Johnny looked furious, frustrated, and a little wild around the eyes. So unlike himself.
“Text me your schedule, and I’ll text you mine. And before you ask, yeah, I’m going to a strip club tomorrow night to bartend while Foley and Sam act as bouncers. And no, I won’t be doing any of the girls. They’re like family, and I’m not into incest.”
“O…kay.”
“It’s my dad’s place, and he usually needs help because his guys are dicks. I told him to fire Micah, because the guy is clearly shooting up, but Dad feels this weird sense of loyalty. And he never replaced George, so I’m having to fill in for the manager too.”
Johnny was rambling. She couldn’t look away.
“Yeah, so, anyway. A date. Soon.” He grabbed his jacket from her closet and put it on.
“A date. With you.”
“One with no sex.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Just you and me hanging out. No big deal. Just some fun.” He turned and was halfway out the door when she stopped him.
“Another date. Okay. But no batting cages.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “That I can do.” He studied her for a moment. “Just so there’s no confusion, don’t think we won’t get back to the sex. That’s definitely on the agenda. We fit together.” He seemed pleased at the idea.
She was too. “We do.”
“You mean we will.” He wiggled his brows and left.
Out of habit, she locked the door behind him, then turned and leaned against it, not sure what the hell had happened. Johnny had given her the most intense orgasm of her life. He’d come in his pants. Insisted they go out again—not for sex. And was refusing to tell his buddies he was banging her. It was like he had violated all the important guy codes in one fell swoop.
Which made her wonder, why? Why her?
And how the hell would she ever be able to look at her couch again without drenching her panties?
Chapter 8
“Yo, Johnny. Another beer.” Foley nodded to the suit waiting impatiently for a drink.
Johnny blinked, stopped staring into space, and slid a cold brew into GQ’s waiting hands. He took the guy’s money and moved to the next order. The tiny bar just outside Strutt That Butt—Strutts for short—was always crowded. Since Washington had a no-booze policy in the clubs, customers had to purchase alcohol at a facility separate from the dancing girls. Hence the bar with a huge-ass HDTV showing what Bubbles was doing onstage next door.
“Dude, wake up.” Foley leaned on the bar near him, his gaze on Johnny instead of the screen, where Bubbles was doing her best work to date. The woman could do aerial splits that made Johnny hurt for her. But dayum. Nice performance.
“Huh? I’m awake.”
“And staring into la-la land, the way you’ve been doing all night.” Foley snorted. “You need to get laid, my friend.”
Been there, done that—well, kind of. Johnny shrugged. “Whatever. There’s more to life than sex.”
“No there ain’t,” said a nearby customer, his gaze glued to Bubbles’s breasts onscreen.
“Yeah, not here. Not when there’s so much pussy for the asking,” his buddy said with a leer and looked around the bar, where a number of girls in bikinis roamed, asking if anyone wanted drinks. “No guy is gonna turn down that.” He pointed to the large screen over Johnny’s head.
A lingering sense of aggressive entitlement lined the guy’s words, and it made Johnny cautious. Foley would need to keep an eye on this one. After so many years in the business of sizing people up, Johnny knew what to look for when trouble came calling.
“What? You don’t agree?” Typical Strutts customer. Not a lot of liberated feminists hanging out around the place, despite the number of women in attendance. Just horny assholes who thought they could buy whatever they wanted. “Bitches just want to trade ass for cash. No biggie.”
Johnny frowned. “Be careful with that attitude. A lot of the girls here are strictly into dancing. Period.”
“Whatever.” The macho head case flipped him off. “I want it, it’s mine.” He flashed a wad of cash right in Johnny’s face.
Go time.
Johnny leaned over the bar, grabbed the guy by the collar, and jerked him close. “Look, shithead. If a girl says no, she means no. And this no-neck”—he cocked a thumb at Foley—“and his big brother over at the club are here to make sure you fuckheads understand what that means, got it?”
Next to them, his bud
dy opened his mouth.
Foley sent the guy’s friend a warning look. Without a word, the friend took one glance at Foley, slunk off his stool, and went to sit at a far table.
“Well?” Johnny tightened his grip.
“Yeah, yeah. I get you. Ease up, man. I was just playin’.”
“Good. Remember that.”
The customer left with a few loudly uttered epithets.
Foley rapped his knuckles on the bar. “You know, that’s no way to enhance customer relations.”
Johnny told him where to shove it.
Foley laughed. “You’re in a real mood, aren’t you, sunshine?”
“I guess. I just get sick of the guys thinking the girls are for sale.”
Foley nodded to the screen, and Johnny turned around to see Bubbles leave the stage to a round of applause. She sat in some yuppie guy’s lap and whispered in his ear. Seconds later the pair walked away, headed in the direction of the VIP rooms.
Foley didn’t say anything. But then, he didn’t have to. They both knew what went on back there. Jack Devlin had always wanted to legalize prostitution and drugs, and he’d been doing his damnedest to create his own slice of tax-free, vice-full heaven with Strutts.
Johnny sighed.
Foley leaned over the bar to slap him on the shoulder.
“Ow.”
“Easy, princess. Look, no one’s making Bubbles do anything she doesn’t want to. Hell, she was bragging to me earlier that she makes more in a night than I do in a week.”
“I know. It’s just… I hate when the guys treat the girls like nothing more than fuck machines.”
“You’re a softie.” Foley shook his head. “But I know what you mean.” He glanced at the rude guys who stood to leave the bar, no doubt to head next door for a close-up show. “Want me to bounce ’em?”
“Have Sam keep an eye on them. I think Tricia’s up next.” A transgender stripper who kept the mystery afloat for newcomers and had her own fan club growing in leaps and bounds. She’d augmented a nice set of breasts she liked to show off. But Johnny could only imagine what those two throwbacks would think if they knew what lay beneath Tricia’s packed G-string.