He yanked off his own leather jacket and grabbed hers. Tossing them at the coat-check attendant, he shoved the claim ticket into his rapidly tightening pants pocket. “Let’s dance.”
He guided her through the crush of people. Heads turned as they found a spot at the edge of the dance floor. She stood taller than the other women and most of the men, a golden beacon shining in the dark room.
Just as they reached the dance floor the band segued into a fast-tempoed song. She hesitated, obviously unsure of her next move.
“It’s easy. All you have to do is move to the music.” He put his hands on her hips and guided them back and forth.
“So salsa dancing is mostly shaking your ass,” she shouted over the horn section.
“It’s more complicated than that, but ass-shaking is a major part.” Although the swing of her breasts under the tiny halter was also a big attraction.
He saw several men lurking nearby but ignored them. He knew he was rude in not letting any other men cut in on him and Rey. Salsa dancing was usually informal, with partners changing several times during an evening.
Rey leaned into him, her nipples pressing against his chest through the thin gold knit. “I think some of those men want to dance with me.”
“Too bad.” The band slipped into a slow number, the singer crooning about a lost love.
“What if I want to dance with them?” Her voice was teasing and husky.
“I don’t want my woman to dance with anyone else.”
“Am I your woman?” Her blue eyes were serious.
“You know you are.” He swallowed hard. “Reina, I want to tell you something.”
A younger man swaggered over to them and asked Reina to dance. By the time Marco sent him away with a blistering barrage of Cuban discouragement, the moment for confession had passed. He’d have to wait until they had more privacy.
Until then he’d take advantage of the sexy salsa rhythms. He brushed his fingers over the dimple at the base of her spine.
She leaned into him, her breath quickening. “Yes or no?”
“Yes or no what?”
“Have you decided if I’m wearing any underwear?”
His cock stiffened even more. “I’ll need to investigate further.”
Antonio appeared behind Rey, his expression urgent. Marco pulled his hand out of her dress and swung around.
“Two men were asking questions about you at the bar.” Antonio spoke in rapid Spanish, guessing correctly that Rey wouldn’t understand. “I didn’t think they were your friends.”
Marco whipped around to see whom Rodríguez had sent, but the crowd blocked his view of the bar. “You’re right.” Marco was already moving toward the nearest exit. “It’s probably the lady’s ex-boyfriend and his brother. When she broke up with him, he slapped her around.”
Antonio spit out a foul Spanish curse. “Follow me.” He made his way through the dancers.
Rey’s eyes widened. “Marco, what’s happening?”
He didn’t know Antonio but had no choice but to trust him. “Antonio has someplace special to show us.”
“Sí, very romantic,” the club manager called over his shoulder. The band was muted as he led them through a door labeled Private and up a darkened flight of stairs.
Antonio flipped a switch, and small crystal wall lamps revealed a long hallway paneled in rich, dark wood. “Here we are.” He stepped to a large panel and punched a code into a hidden keypad. A door swung open on silent hinges.
“A secret room.” Rey looked from one man to another. “I can rely on your discretion that no one learns about these rooms?”
Marco shook his hand, speaking quietly in Spanish. “I will not betray your kindness.”
“Bueno. Give me half an hour to find these men and get rid of them.” Antonio gestured at the narrow bar set along the side wall. “Please feel free to sample some beverages. No one will bother you here.” He closed the door noiselessly behind him.
Marco walked over to the bar and found what he was looking for. He’d bet Rey had never tried a mojito, and he could use a drink, too. “Do you like limes?”
“Limes?” Rey turned to him with her hands on her hips. “Your friend whisks us off to some secret salsa-club Batcave and you ask me about limes?”
Uh-oh. She was royally pissed. “I have rum and cola if you’d prefer.”
“I’d prefer that you tell me the truth, Marco Francisco Flores-or-maybe-not-Flores.”
“Actually my full name is Marco Santiago Flores.”
“Well, Marco Santiago, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”
“LOOK, THAT HAD TO BE Flores’s brother dancing with the blonde with the juicy ass.” Chucho licked his lips. “Man, when we find him, I want an hour alone with her.”
His brother scoffed. “An hour? You’d only need three minutes.”
“If you’re lonely, Nico, we should find a goat for you.”
Nico muttered an epithet and craned his neck. “Holy shit, he looks a lot like Flores. But el jefe says to do nothing. Just find where he’s staying.”
“Nothing?” Chucho sulked, caressing the switchblade in his pocket. “I want to cut that golden dress off her.”
“Stop playing pocket pool and pay attention.” Nico grabbed his brother’s ear and twisted as he lost sight of their target.
“Ay! Let go!” Chucho rubbed his ear. “We can’t miss them if we stand by the bar. They’ll get thirsty soon.”
A new voice came from behind them. “Looking for someone?” asked a short man in a fancy suit.
Chucho sneered. “Beat it, Tiny.”
“Oh, I’m not Tiny.” Two huge bouncers had come up behind the man. “This is Tiny.” He gestured to one bouncer. Tiny had thighs as big as the trunks of palm trees and biceps the size of coconuts. A thick scar cut through his black brow, and his shaved scalp gleamed pink in the spotlights from the stage.
“And this is Sammy.” The bouncer on the right cracked a feral smile, its white gleam bisecting the dark skin of his cheeks. A diamond-encrusted tooth winked in the dim light.
Chucho and Nico stepped back, only to find the wall behind them.
“Now that you know our names, maybe you can tell us yours.” The short man’s eyes glittered ominously. “We can all be friends. Tiny and Sammy love to make new friends.” The bouncers grinned and cracked their knuckles.
The brothers glanced at each other: what now?
“I’M WAITING FOR THAT explanation.” Rey crossed her arms and fumed as Marco took his own sweet time crushing leaves and adding rum and other liquids.
He finally set two drinks on the granite bar top. “Let’s dance.” Marco walked to an intercom system in the wall and twisted a dial. A set of hidden speakers piped in the salsa band’s throbbing rhythms.
“Marco.” She had to almost shout over the music. “Marco, I don’t really want to dance.”
He shook his head and dragged her close. Instead of swinging her into the complex rhythmic patterns she’d observed downstairs, he wrapped his arms around her and put his mouth next to her ear. “Reina, I need to tell you something, but it’s not safe here.”
She tried to pull away to stare at him, but he held her in an iron grip. “Not safe?” Her throat went dry. “Why aren’t we leaving right now? Or calling the cops?”
He shook his head. “I swear, I’ll tell you as soon as I can. There were two men downstairs who want to find me. We’ll leave as soon as Antonio gets rid of them.”
“Gets rid of them? Like ‘sleeping with the fishes’ gets rid of them?”
He finally let her go. “Gets his bouncers to throw them out, that’s all.”
“Are you in trouble with the law?”
“No, not at all.” He looked faintly amused and picked up his drink.
“Any alcohol or drug problems?” She really hoped not. They’d been careful with protection, but the thought of him abusing that wonderful body made her skin crawl.
He choked midsip
. He looked at the drink in his hand and set it down. “I’ve spent every single day and almost every night with you for the past two weeks. Have I ever been drunk?”
She shook her head. A couple beers or a glass of wine was the most she’d seen him drink. “And drugs?” she pressed.
He grabbed her hand and clasped it against his heart. “I swear on the soul of my father. Drugs are filthy poison and the creatures who sell them are animals.”
Rey studied him. As far as she could see, he was telling the truth about drugs. And he’d almost laughed at the idea of being a criminal. “All right, I do believe you, but you’re still not off the hook.”
“I understand. But come try your cocktail. It’s a mojito, Miami’s answer to the mint julep. It’s not as good as when you pick the limes fresh off the trees, but you still get a taste of Miami.”
Rey sipped from the icy glass. Sweet mint bubbled over her tongue, balanced by the tang of the half lime floating in the goblet. “It’s very good.” She drained her glass and held it out for a refill.
Marco laughed. “Are you sure you want another right now? There’s a lot of rum in there.”
“Swedish Christmas punch is hard liquor mixed with red wine.”
He poured a fresh glass for her. “If you can handle that, my little mojito is like a soft drink.” He sipped from his own glass.
Rey leaned her hips against the leather-topped table. Despite her alcohol tolerance, she hadn’t eaten since lunch. She drank half of her mojito and held the icy glass against her burning cheek.
“Are you all right, Reina?” Marco set down his drink and moved closer to her.
“Just a little hot, I think.” The little room was close and stuffy.
“You’re blazing hot, querida.” His eyes darkened to tawny brown.
“I need to cool off.” She mischievously ran the glass over her other cheek and down her bare neck. A drop of condensation ran into the hollow between her breasts. “Ah, that’s better.”
“Do you know what’s better?” He bent to lick the droplet off her skin.
She clutched the slippery glass. “That didn’t cool me off.” Her plan of teasing him was backfiring.
“How about this?” He pulled the mojito from her nerveless fingers and circled the icy glass around the thrumming pulse at the base of her neck.
He traced a finger under the edge of her halter, pausing at the top swell of her breast. Its peak immediately tightened and she shivered.
“Are you sure you’re not cooled off yet?” He stared where her nipples strained against the thin gold knit. “You seem a bit chilled.”
“I’m fine.” She was losing control of the situation and stumbled against the table. He scooped her up with one muscular arm and sat her on the tabletop. She braced her palms behind her and automatically widened her thighs for balance. He stepped between them, wedging his pelvis against hers.
He pressed the mojito glass against her nipple. She gasped his name as the cold traveled through the fabric. Before she caught her breath, he pressed it against the other.
“You like that?” he whispered.
Rey couldn’t answer for a second, still shuddering from the icy sensation and the rasp of his erection on the tender sliver of skin above her stockings. She was off balance, both physically and emotionally. “Yes.”
“You’ll like this even better.” He reached up to the nape of her neck and unfastened the hooks holding her top closed.
Her breasts sprang free as he dragged the gold knit down to her waist. With her hands behind her, her breasts thrust up, aching nipples tilted toward Marco’s mouth.
He rubbed the glass over one pale pink tip. Icy-hot sensations shot to her throbbing clit. She jerked her hips forward, pulsing against his erection. He repeated it again on her other breast, leaving her shivering from cold and desire. “Marco, we can’t do this here. Anyone might come in.” She fumbled with the straps to her halter.
“The only man coming in is me.” He swirled a finger across the damp pink tip.
“Oh, you think so?” She gave up trying to fasten the tiny hooks at the back of her neck and held the fabric against her.
“I know so. Antonio told me no one else knows the key code to this room. And he turned off the fiber-optic surveillance cameras and microphones for us.”
“This room is bugged?” Rey looked around in shock.
“Of course.” He looked amused. “The club owner holds highly sensitive business meetings here.”
“What kind of business?”
He grinned. “Do you really want to know?”
How did Marco know these people? He saw the skeptical look on her face and stepped closer. “Would you like the rest of your mojito?”
“No, you can finish it.” She wanted a clear head to decide what to do.
He took a drink and swirled it around his mouth. Tugging her top loose, he fastened his chilly lips on her nipple, sucking and tugging until her greedy flesh filled his mouth. She wove her fingers through his hair as he pinched her other straining peak.
He stepped back, leaving her dangling half-naked off the table. She sat up and pressed her knees together to soothe the ache between her legs.
He sipped his drink and traced his fingers over her knee. “You never did tell me if you were wearing any panties.”
“Why don’t you find out?” She inched her thighs apart, encouraging him to explore her aching sex.
He obliged, running a finger around the wide lace band of her stocking. “Your skin is like silk.” He slid his finger higher until he reached her damp curls. “You’re naughty, not even wearing a thong. What if your skirt crept up when we were dancing? Anyone could see your creamy thighs and your golden triangle.” He tugged gently on her hair.
She shuddered as he glided along the seam of her sex. “It was too dark to see anything.”
“Every man in the club was staring at you.” His finger circled the damp bud and lifted. “Did it make you hot to know that?”
“No, Marco.” She wiggled closer, her breath coming in quick pants. “I only want you.”
“Good.” He sheathed two fingers in her, her hidden muscles convulsing around him. She thrust her hips forward until her clit bumped the pad of his thumb.
He caressed her, sending shock waves spiraling from her womb. She curled her fingers over the table’s edge, her nails digging into the varnished wood. Just as her orgasm began to pulse, he pulled out.
“Marco!” She almost screamed in frustration.
“What, querida?” He took another sip from the mojito, which he hadn’t put down since he’d started caressing her. He was cool and collected, while she had melted into a puddle on the table.
“If you don’t touch me now, I’ll have to touch myself.” She unhooked one hand from the table and caressed the sliver of skin above her stocking, moving closer and closer to the pulsing nub crowning her thighs.
“Go ahead.” His tone was even, but his eyes glittered in the dim light. His cock pressed long and thick against the tight placket of his pants.
She marveled at his iron control. Maybe she could break it. “Sit in that chair.”
He refilled his glass and relaxed into the heavy leather armchair.
She stood, the stiletto heels of her golden sandals teetering in the plush carpet. She wiggled her dress over her hips, peeking at him over her bare shoulder. Stepping out of the golden pool of fabric at her feet, she hopped onto the table, naked except for her stockings and sandals. “So you like to watch?” She spread her legs wide, the brass tacks on the table pressing into the soft flesh of her bottom.
“Sometimes.”
She was gratified to hear his voice rasp. “Tell me what you want me to do.” She was suddenly nervous. She had touched herself briefly before their sauna session but had never given herself an orgasm in front of any man before.
“Lick your fingers.”
She inserted two fingers between her lips, drawing them deep. She circled her tongue around t
hem, their thickness and length reminding her of his cock. “Do you remember when I sucked on you in the sauna?”
“Yes.” His voice was calm, but she saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the arms of the chair.
She pinched her nipple with her damp fingers and trailed her hand slowly down her body, pausing just above the nest of golden hair.
His eyes dilated almost to black. “Touch your clit.”
She paused for a second, tracing wet patterns around her belly button.
“Do it now, Reina.” He was a man pushed to the brink of his control. His hand had strayed to the front of his pants, stroking his erection. “Or else I’m going to make myself come and you won’t get my cock inside you.”
The threat was enough to make her obey. She gasped as she explored the knot of nerves nestled in her slick, swollen folds. Faster and faster she circled her throbbing clitoris, her head lolling.
“Suck on your other fingers and touch your tits.” His crude language aroused her even further, spurring her imagination to new sensual heights.
Instead of sucking on her fingers, she cupped a breast in her palm and dipped her head. She took a deep breath and darted her tongue out to lick her own nipple, jumping slightly at the double sensation.
She heard a thud and looked up, startled. Marco had dropped his mojito, droplets splashing onto his slacks.
“Do that again.” His voice was hoarse. The glass rolled under his chair as he gripped the armrests.
“This?” Emboldened by his response, she let her tongue swirl around the sensitive areola. It felt really sexy, especially when he made little groaning noises and shifted in the chair.
She sped up the caresses between her thighs, enjoying her power over him without even touching him. He murmured Spanish endearments to her. When she couldn’t stand the exquisite pressure anymore, she closed her eyes and let the memory of his burning golden gaze carry her to the peak of a blazing climax.
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.” Rey’s smooth body sprawled decadently on the table, the golden lips of her lush pink sex spread wide open. Moisture trickled, pooling on the leather tabletop. He stood and yanked open his belt, sighing with relief as his aching cock sprang upward.
Her Body of Work Page 14