“Those nights all ended,” he said, pointing out the flaw in her logic. He pushed hard against the silver button, fighting both with Shannon and the elevator that was starting to beep loudly.
“Looks like this night is about to go the same way then, doesn’t it?”
There was no fucking way he was letting her walk away tonight. The blaring grew louder, sounding like a siren. Shannon crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts, revealing the swell of her curves.
Curves he intended on having his hands on tonight.
His desire fueled him. Instinct led him on, a caveman drive. In a lightning blur, he grabbed her waist, lifted her onto his shoulder easily and carried her out of the elevator just as the doors whisked shut with a final ping.
“Put me down,” she shouted, pounding her fists against his back. Marching down the hall, he carried her away from the lift as she banged on him. “I mean it, Brent Nichols.”
“I will, woman. I will,” he said with a huff, setting her down carefully on her four-inch heels. She didn’t even wobble. She was born to wear stilettos. Pressing his palms against the wall above her shoulders, he caged her in. “Look, I forgot to say anything about the change in my flight. It happened this afternoon at four o’ fucking clock. This guy is running me around, working me over, and it’s not like I want to go to New York at midnight.”
She shot him a look that said she doubted him. “It’s always about work with you.”
“I am doing my best to manage it all. I want to spend every damn day with you,” he said, his voice hard and firm. “How is it not clear where I want to be right now?”
“Then why are you telling me now?” She sounded like a cross-examiner, punching holes in his argument. “Maybe when you picked me up tonight would have been a better time, not ten seconds before you try to bring me to a hotel room for one frigging hour, Brent. One hour before you have to jet out of town. You know how that makes me feel?”
“How does it make you feel?” he asked, dreading the answer.
Mercifully, she didn’t say whore. “Cheap,” she hissed.
“You are not cheap. You are classy, and gorgeous, and beautiful, and why can you not see that I would much rather spend the night worshipping your perfect body, and showing you how much I fucking adore you?” he said, his voice rising again. A door opened down the hall, and a man exited his room. Brent didn’t care if anyone heard him saying out loud how crazy he was for this woman. He dropped his hand to her shoulder, trailing the pad of his finger along her skin and down her bare arm. She didn’t swat him away, or bite him. That was good. “I meant to tell you that he’d called, and I was all set to say something about the change, but then I showed up at your place, and you looked like this,” he said, gesturing to her stunning figure in front of him.
Her lips quirked up. There, in that small crack in her anger, he had his chance. The door was ajar. He’d slink inside.
“Looked like what?” she asked, her tone segueing away from pissed, and towards that teasing seductress he loved.
“Like the only woman I have ever wanted this much,” he said, resuming his path along her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He moved his hand to her waist, tracing circles with his thumb against her hipbone.
“How much?”
“So fucking much it consumes all my brainpower,” he said, relief flooding him as she began to relinquish her anger. “I swear, Shan. When I see you, I can’t fucking remember my name. I can barely figure out how to form words.” Her expression softened, and he inched even closer, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. “You’re all I see. You are perfection.”
She looped her hands around his waist. Ah, sweet victory.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For getting so pissed,” she said, her tone sweet and soft now, wafting over him. “I just hate the thought of this night ending.”
“Good. I’m so damn happy you feel that way, because I do, too.”
She wrapped her arms tighter around him, tugged him against her in the cool, air-conditioned hallway. “I was looking forward to spending the night with you,” she said in the barest voice, and it sent tremors of desire throughout his body. “And when you told me you were leaving, it made me feel like you just didn’t care. Like you care about work more than me.”
“I care about you so much more,” he said.
“Brent,” she began, bringing her hands to his hair. “Let’s go to the room. I owe you a dance, and I’m going to make it so good for you.”
That was music to his ears. And his dick. And his balls.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Inside the room, she grabbed his shirt and furiously began unbuttoning it. She didn’t bother to glance around the room, to take in the surroundings, to comment on the thread count or the mood lighting, or the unparalleled view of the Strip from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Nor did he.
He saw nothing but her as they made their way to the couch by the window, where she pushed him down as she finished opening his shirt. She stood in front of him, bent forward, and let her long hair tickle his chest.
Fire burned in his blood. He needed her. Desperately.
“Forgive me,” she said. She was up to something. She had that twinkle in her eye.
“You don’t need forgiveness,” he rasped out as she began to sway, her hips moving seductively side to side. Oh holy hell of a hard-on. She was doing it. She was going to become his fucking fantasy. He loved nothing more than when she did her stripteases.
She trailed her fingernails down his chest. “How about a little music, handsome?”
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, and scrolled through his music at the speed of light. In seconds, Marcy Playground’s “Sex and Candy” blasted from his phone.
“Perfect for you, babe,” he said as he grasped her hips, and she wagged her index finger, tsking him.
“You know the rules.” She spread her palms over his chest. He inhaled deeply, his body rocketing with pleasure at the feel of her touching him. She glided her talented palm over the hard ridge of his erection, setting off fire after fire inside his body.
She was an arsonist. And she was a tease. She took her hand away.
“No. Tell me the rules,” he said.
“They’re different tonight, since you’re leaving in thirty minutes,” she said, hiking up her dress and straddling him.
His cock throbbed in his jeans. What he wouldn’t give to have her touching him right now. Hands, mouth, pussy—any or all of the above, please.
“What are the rules then?” he asked, breathing erratically as she moved on him, a stripper’s dance, grinding and teasing to the music.
“No sex, because I can’t bear the thought of you getting on a plane right after. Instead, we’re going to play fantasy night,” she said, swiveling around. She arched her back, her long hair spilling down her spine. Lust pinballed through him with every succulent move she made, every bump of her ass, every sway of her hips, every press of her against any part of his skin.
“Which fantasy? You’re going to need to be a little more specific because I have about twenty million fantasies involving you,” he said, holding tight to her hips as she moved up and down on him.
She shifted off him, and he nearly grabbed her and slammed her back down. Contact. He needed contact with this red-hot woman who was sending the mercury in him soaring to record highs. But she was running the show. She stood and brushed her hand from her breasts, down her belly, to her thighs. He groaned loudly, his right hand dropping to his erection.
“That one,” she answered quickly, eyeing his crotch. “That fantasy. The one where you get off to me dancing for you. The one you told me about in your club.”
He narrowed his eyes. She couldn’t be serious. “You’re here with me, and you want me to jack off instead?”
She nodded, and arched a naughty eyebrow. “I want to watch you touch yourself as I dance. I want to
witness how turned on you get just from looking at me. I want to know how you’ve looked for the last ten years when you’ve lusted for me.”
“You’re a fucking vixen seductress,” he said on a low hum.
“I know, and you love it.”
“I do,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Show me. Show me what I missed. Show me what I would have walked in on if I had come over some night when you were fantasizing about me,” she said, her body in synch with every beat of the music.
He motioned for her to come closer. “C’mon. I want your hands on me. I want your lips on me. I want to feel you.”
“You will. But right now, give me this,” she said in a pleading tone, running her hands along his thighs as she wiggled her ass high in the air. She unsnapped the button of his jeans, and there were no more questions. She was winning. She was having her way. His dick ached with the need to be touched. If he had to do it himself, then that was what he’d do.
He unzipped his jeans, freeing his erection.
The look in her eyes was one for the ages. Her lips parted and she breathed heavily, sighing in admiration as he wrapped his hand around his cock. Finally some relief at last from the throbbing. The chorus of the song built, and she backed away, returning to the center of the room, inching up her skirt, revealing her panties.
Moving. Dancing. Swaying.
So fucking sensual. So incredibly seductive.
Her body was a dream.
Her eyes feasted on him with each thrust of her pelvis, each sway of her hips. The way she gazed at him unleashed tremors of pleasure inside him, knowing she was savoring the sight of his hand on his cock. His fantasy—her stripping for him as he enjoyed the view—was her fantasy too.
He stroked himself, harder, faster, not needing much right now because he was so damn aroused already. She unzipped her dress, letting the straps slide down her arms, then to her waist, revealing those twin globes of gorgeous flesh.
“Bring those beautiful tits to me,” he growled out, and she came to him, sinking down on his thigh, rubbing herself on him as she brought her breasts closer. In all the times he’d been with her this go-around, he hadn’t seen her breasts, so lush and full. Now, they were on display for him.
“Anything for you,” she whispered as she pushed them in his face. His tongue darted out, sampling a rosy peak. “Mmm,” he murmured as he licked her nipple, then drew her deeper into his mouth.
Then, she pulled away from him returning to her dance. “More,” she said, tipping her chin to his crotch. “I love watching you.”
“Yeah? You like knowing what you did to me when you were gone?” He shuttled his hand harder, working his fist over his dick as he had many times while picturing her. “You like knowing this is how I was? Rock hard and worked up for you?”
“Yes,” she said, as she pushed her dress past her hips, showing him the top of her panties. White lacy panties. Blood pounded in his cock as he gripped himself.
“Look what you do to me. You get me so crazy with wanting you. You love turning me on. You move your hips--I’m hard. You walk into the room--I’m ready to take you. God forbid you bend down to pick up something that dropped. You don’t even want to know what’s going through my head.”
“Oh, I do. I do want to know,” she said, sliding the dress past her panties, letting it fall on the floor.
His hand tugged harder. His breathing grew unsteady. “Grabbing your hair, pushing you against a chair. Lifting your ass in the air, and sinking deep into your sweet, wet pussy.”
It was her turn to moan, a throaty, feminine moan that made his balls tighten. She returned to him, clad only in her panties and the shoes he’d bought for her. “I love watching you touch yourself, knowing you’re thinking of fucking me.”
“I’m always thinking of fucking you, Shannon,” he said, on an upstroke. His spine tingled as she resumed her lap dance, her heat mercilessly close to his dick. He was going to come soon.
All over his hand.
He let go of his grip, and grabbed her hips instead, holding her as she hovered over him. She froze mid-grind. “You stopped,” she said, surprised.
He nodded. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not coming in my motherfucking hand. I’ll get on the flight blue-balled and arrive in New York in the morning with a raging hard-on that hurts. But I’m not coming with you for the first time in ten years in my own goddamn hand.”
A wicked grin lit up her face. She licked her lips. “We can’t have that, can we?”
“No. We can’t have that at all.”
She leaned in, her breasts pressed to his chest, her mouth on his jaw. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”
“Show me now,” he said, and she dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around him. He groaned so damn loudly from pleasure, from the absolute otherworldly bliss of those lips. She was an angel of mercy tonight. She didn’t tease. She didn’t lick the tip. She drew him deep, taking him all the way, and he threw back his head and moaned.
“You did miss me,” he said, as pleasure ricocheted through him. “Show me how much. Show me how much you missed sucking me.”
He laced his hands through her hair, curling his fingers around her head as she bobbed up and down. The friction was intense, as her mouth sucked tight and her tongue became a wicked instrument of carnal pleasure. She was a vision, with her hair spread across his thighs, and her lips full and ripe. Only one thing would make this better right now. One thing would make this the blow job of a lifetime.
“You’re killing me with your gorgeous mouth, but you need to get undressed now,” he said, standing up quickly to strip off his shirt and jeans all the way. “Everything but the shoes.”
She shot him a look that said don’t be silly. “I know you like me to leave my shoes on, Brent,” she said, standing up to hook her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, slide them down her legs, and step out of them. She dangled them on one finger in front of him, like a temptation. He grabbed them, brought them to his nose, and inhaled her honey, sexy scent. She smelled like sweet pussy, exactly as she fucking should. He threw them somewhere in the room.
She bent over in front of him, enacting another one of his fantasies. His arm shot out, and he grabbed her hair, and pulled hard. She moaned loudly and raised her head, gazing back at him, her eyes so naughty. The fucking vixen. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Like that?”
“Yes. Just like that. Now get on me,” he told her as he lay down on the carpet. “Let me eat your pussy while you suck my dick. The only thing that makes a blow job from you better is when I can taste you at the same time.” She obliged, straddling his face, and lowering herself to him as she took him between her lips once more.
His tongue darted out, so eager to taste her, to lick her, to savor her sweet heat. In an instant, she was rocking back into him. This was heaven. Her mouth was gripping his cock, and she was pressed naked on top of him with her delicious pussy in his face, her fantastic ass bobbing up and down. He licked her sweetness, flicking his tongue against her swollen clit. Instantly she cried out, dropping him from her mouth.
He didn’t care anymore about his pleasure. All he wanted was her taste. To be smothered in it. To feel her arousal all over his chin, his mouth, his face. She was dripping on him—wetness, glorious fucking wetness everywhere. He was coated in her pleasure, and she fucked his face hard, rocking into him, grinding on him.
He loved the way she moved that gorgeous ass. He needed to touch it. To slap it. He raised his hand and smacked her rear.
“Oh,” she cried out, a sexy, needy moan.
He did it again. The same gorgeous sound landed on his ears.
He ran a finger between her wet folds, sliding through her slippery paradise, and she moved faster, pumping like there was no tomorrow. Like there was only this, only this pleasure.
Her wetness was a gift, one that had to be used freely. He had no choice. He simply needed to
spread the wealth. To share all this glistening liquid heat. He slid his finger across her folds once more, then pressed his wet fingertip against her bottom as he licked her. She tensed, tightening everywhere, then he slid a finger inside her rear. She screamed his name in pleasure.
She cried out as she tightened all around him, every part of her squeezing, shaking, trembling.
She bucked against his face and his finger, rocking hard and riding out the waves that crashed through her. Her cries rang in his ears like a rock song. She collapsed on him and moaned softly in pleasure.
No time to linger. It was his turn.
He gave her a few seconds before sliding from under her. He stood up. His dick was at attention.
“Get on your knees now and finish me off,” he told her, in a clear and direct command.
Her eyes lit up and she obliged, crawling to her knees. She started with her thumb, spreading the drops of liquid around the tip of his cock.
“Take me in deep” he instructed. “Like you did before.”
“That’s the only way I do it.”
“Remind me. Remind me how you always drove me wild.” He traced his fingertip over her top lip. “I need to own that pretty little mouth of yours right now.”
She looked up at him as she wrapped her hand around his shaft, her other hand playing with his balls. “Own me, Brent. You already do.”
The head of his dick hit the back of her throat, and he pumped. He gripped her hair, drawing her closer, so she had to take him all the way.
“I can’t hold back anymore,” he groaned, as he pushed her hair away from her face, giving himself a view of her lips on him. “I’m going to fuck your mouth hard now. Can you handle it, babe?” he asked, as he began. She nodded, and that was all he needed. Permission to take over her mouth completely.
To occupy every inch of her.
This wouldn’t last long. Thirty seconds, a minute tops. He was damn near there already.
“You’re so fucking beautiful on your knees. So fucking perfect,” he said, the words trailing off as his spine ignited, pleasure crackling through his bones as her sexy lips drew him in.
Sweet Sinful Nights Page 17