Hell, maybe he did want to settle down. If not, then why was he so jealous of Jack’s happiness lately?
He was having stupid thoughts, that was all. And if he was smart, he’d quit dwelling on those stupid thoughts and do what he’d planned to do at this party—find some lovely, wild woman who wanted to cut loose and have some Mardi Gras fun.
It was at that precise moment he saw the lady across the room. Even behind her mask, he felt her watching him.
A redhead with a smokin’ body. They made eye contact and she slowly licked her upper lip. Sexy as hell.
22
Mardi Gras
As he felt the first hint of a reaction in his cock, he decided that maybe his wish was coming true—the redhead must be a friend of Liz’s and she looked exactly like a woman who wanted to get together and get naked.
If his experience held, they’d have a good night or two—or five, or ten—of sex, and then it would be over, but that was okay. Despite his brief moments of wife-envy, he’d pretty much accepted that having sex without romance was just part of how his life worked. And if he’d needed a sign to prove it, the sexy lady in black and silver was it.
Even now, with her gaze intent upon him from behind that alluring mask, she dipped her finger into her glass of wine, then sensually slid it into her mouth, sucking it dry. His chest went warm and his groin tightened further. Very nice, baby, he thought, and hoped like hell she could read the response in his eyes.
Just then, someone bumped into her—a guy, someone else Ty didn’t know. The dark-haired corporate type began talking to her, making her smile, and an unbelievable, and unreasonable, ire rose inside him at having their silent flirtation interrupted. It made his cock go even harder, made him want her even more, feeling as if Mr. Clean Cut over there had just invaded his territory.
Just as he was contemplating walking over and finding some way to stake his claim without seeming like a madman, the guy moved on. Looking after him, the lady in the mask switched her glass from one hand to the other, and in the process dropped her cocktail napkin. It fluttered to the floor at her feet.
To Ty’s surprise, she cast a quick glance in his direction. To make sure he was still watching her?
Then she turned away from him and bent over at the waist, going down, down, making her skirt rise so far in the back—past the sexy, lacy tops of her stockings and well up onto black garters stretched tight—that he stood waiting to catch a glimpse of the mound between her thighs. The skirt didn’t quite go that far, but by the time she retrieved the napkin and stood back up, he was so stiff it almost hurt.
23
Lacey Alexander
Just then, a piece of silverware tapped against a wineglass, and the buzz of voices filling the room went quiet, leaving only a slow Cajun waltz in its place. “There’s plenty more jambalaya in the kitchen for anyone who wants it,” Liz announced.
Standing beside her, Jack added, “And if you’re ready for dessert, we’ve got fresh beignets and, even though it’s a little late in the season, a great big king cake.”
“Never too late for king cake!” someone yelled in a heavy Louisiana drawl.
Traditionally, the king cake was supposed to be served on January sixth, the epiphane and official start of the Mardi Gras season. A plastic baby, to symbolize the new year, was baked into the cake, and whoever got the piece with the baby had to host the next soiree. But, tradition aside, king cake was a pretty common treat right up through Fat Tuesday—it wouldn’t be a Mardi Gras party without one.
Turning his attention back to the hot redhead, Ty found she’d left her spot to move toward the dessert table. He decided to hang back and avoid the crowd for the moment—he’d approach her when there weren’t so many people around her.
Looked like she’d volunteered to help hand out the cake as Liz cut it—he watched as she picked up two purple paper plates topped with cake and took a few steps into the room until two partygoers relieved her of them. The same scenario repeated three times until it hit him that he was totally caught up in staring at her. But he couldn’t help it. He was getting intoxicated by her lush cleavage and that sexy see-through blouse, and her black strappy heels were so hot he thought he might like to feel one of them digging slightly into his back. Oh yeah.
Just then she grabbed up another slice of cake and started weaving through the crowd until she reached…him. She held up the plate with a come-hither smile.
“Hungry?” she asked in a low, drop-dead sexy voice.
He felt the question in his cock. “Very,” he replied, peering down into warm green eyes.
“Enjoy,” she said as he accepted the cake, then she turned and sauntered away, the sway of her hips entrancing.
24
Mardi Gras
As Ty bit into the sugary-sweet confection, he found himself thinking, Hell, who needs a meaningful relationship when you’ve got this—a super-hot woman ready for what promises to be a fun night ahead.
That was when he realized he was chewing…paper.
Reaching into his mouth, he drew out a tiny slip of crumpled yellow paper. It said in sharp black letters, Want to fuck?
His cock threatened to burst from behind his zipper at any second. He lifted his gaze to find the redhead back across the room, still handing out cake. Lowering his plate to the nearest table, he made a beeline for her.
As she bent to scoop up two more plates from the dessert table, he leaned in close behind her, letting his body graze hers from the waist down.
She flinched lightly, but didn’t move away—only straightened and turned to look over her shoulder.
“Yes,” he breathed low in her ear. “And I want to do it hard.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been a hundred percent certain she’d sent the note, but he was. He just knew—without a shred of doubt. He moved half an inch closer, so she’d feel his hard-on pressing into the crack of her ass.
Setting the plates back down, she turned, handily extricating herself from between him and the table, and grabbed his hand. “Follow me.” Just the touch of her fingers added to his heat as she led him across the floor, around a corner, and into the bathroom, currently candlelit. He shut the wooden door firmly behind him and spun to look at her.
Her eyes blazed with the same fire that burned hot in his veins, and her ample chest heaved slightly, begging for his touch. A pouty mouth painted with dark lipstick made her look all the more like a mysterious piece of forbidden fruit. And he was ready to take a bite.
25
Lacey Alexander
They stepped toward each other at the same time, moving into each other’s arms.
His settled around her waist and hers circled his neck. “What’s your name?” he asked, his mouth hovering an inch above hers.
She hesitated slightly, then licked her upper lip. “Mina.”
“Nice to meet you, Mina. I’m Ty,” he said, then lowered a kiss onto that dark, sexy mouth.
She responded with eager pressure, hungry and willing, just the way he wanted her. She tasted sweet, like the cake he’d just eaten, as he eased his tongue between her lips. Her breasts pressed firm against his chest and his cock molded perfectly with the indented slit he could feel beneath her skirt.
Her skin was warm to the touch, and her movements against him filled him with longing. Damn, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d gotten this hot this fast. He’d wanted her badly enough before, back out in the crowded room, but his desire had skyrocketed since stepping behind a closed door with her.
Her tongue circled his in kisses that grew slower, but more heated. He could hear them both breathing heavily as his hands roamed her back and she ran her fingers through his hair. When he drew one hand around to her breast, it was like heaven and sin colliding in the palm of his hand. The feel of her lush flesh, even through her blouse and bra, made him thrust at the soft spot between her thighs, the move almost involuntary.
She moaned when he raked his thumb across the hardened nipple he could feel through
the thin blouse and the lace underneath.
“Want your breast in my mouth,” he breathed as her lips left his, venturing downward. He leaned his head back as she rained kisses across his neck and onto the top of his chest through the “v” in his shirt.
“Mmm, I want my pussy in your mouth,” she purred between kisses.
He groaned. What a dirty girl. He was wild about her already.
26
Mardi Gras
When she raised her gaze, drawing her splayed fingers down his chest, he reached to take off her mask. He wasn’t sure why—he hadn’t even planned it. He guessed he just wanted to see her better—this hot, sexy woman who was kissing him senseless. He wanted to see who he was about to fuck.
Biting her lip, she stopped him, holding the mask in place. “No.” He didn’t argue. Instead he went for the next best thing, the button between her breasts. Flicking it open and reaching inside, he curved his fingers around the lace cup of her dangerously low-cut bra.
She let out a sexy sigh at his light, sensual kneading, but quickly pulled his hand away, grabbing both of his wrists to keep him from going further. “No,” she said, firmer this time.
He didn’t know what to think. Even as she held his wrists at his sides, he leaned down to rake a hot kiss across her lush mouth. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” he said, his voice coming out raspy. “Did I do something wrong?” She shook her head, her eyes just as passion-filled as before. “But I don’t want to hurry, baby. I want to make the pleasure last.” Something about the way she said it heightened his lust, straining his zipper even more than it already was. He leaned his forehead against hers, delivering one, two more small kisses designed to entice. “What did you have in mind?” She let go of his wrists and flashed a hint of a sexy smile. “Follow me.” She was already reaching around him for the doorknob when he grinned and said,
“Didn’t we already do this part?”
“This was just warm-up, lover,” she said in that husky voice that made him lust harder. Opening the door, she glanced over her shoulder at him, that sexy, concealing mask still framing her eyes with dark glitter. “For what I want to do to you, you’ll have to take your chances and see where I lead you. Are you coming?” 27
Lacey Alexander
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down to whisper in her ear as a guy moved past them into the newly vacated bathroom. “You haven’t made me come just yet, but I have a feeling you will.”
He felt the words travel through her in the sexy stretch of her shoulders, the forward thrust of her breasts.
“I’ll go wherever you want me to, honey,” he added. “Just lead the way.”
* * * * *
Mia’s skin tingled with heat by the time she led Ty up Bourbon Street toward her aunt’s apartment. The mood outside only added to her excitement. People milled about, girls were still flashing for beads, and a party atmosphere permeated the warmer-than-average February night.
She was still quaking over the name she’d told him—Mina. She’d feared she’d given herself away even as it left her lips, but he’d seemed to accept it without thought.
Thank God she’d never told him Mia was short for Mina, which was short for Wilhelmina—a great-grandmother on her father’s side. Apparently, Tim had never had occasion to mention that little bit of trivia to Ty, either, for which she was now eternally grateful.
She’d also nearly fainted when he’d tried to take off her mask. Thank goodness he hadn’t persisted. Everything depended on keeping her sexy mask on, and her face
hidden.
She didn’t look back at him as she walked—she didn’t dare. She was too amazed that this was really happening, really working. She’d been confident, but maybe she hadn’t been truly prepared for how it would feel to have his hands on her, his mouth on hers. To finally kiss the much-lusted-after Ty had been at once magical and the most natural thing on earth. He kissed exactly like she’d imagined, with a soft, insistent heat and a slow urgency that could drive a woman insane. She’d almost thought she could 28
Mardi Gras
come just from kissing him. And when his perfect and delightfully large hard-on had pressed into her—mmm, her cunt had nearly melted from the flames he’d ignited there.
Now her anxious pussy hummed with desire. But she had a long way to go before she’d actually have him, his cock, inside her. She had plans for her man. Plans for an evening he’d always remember.
29
Lacey Alexander
Chapter Three
She drew him across the street and through a group of twenty-something guys, aware they were staring, aware that her blouse remained unbuttoned past her bra. She decided she must be an even naughtier girl than she realized, since she didn’t mind being displayed for them, didn’t mind that it was probably very clear she was about to seduce the man following behind her.
Leading Ty through a wrought iron gate, she climbed the stairs to Aunt Sophie’s second-floor apartment. She couldn’t help wondering if her ass was in his face with each step she took, and if perhaps he was tempted to reach out and push up her skirt, and go after her right here and now. If he did, she wasn’t sure she’d have the will to stop him.
But you have to stick to your plan, she reminded herself. If you want to give him a night to remember, you have to take it slow and do it right—get him where you want him. Get him where he wants to be, too.
When they arrived on the landing, she reached into her bra, sliding her fingers across the soft lower curve of her left breast, and pulled out the key.
Raising her gaze, she found he’d been watching.
“That’s damn sexy,” he said in a low, pointed tone.
She replied in her super-sophisticated voice. “I like to travel light.” He grinned, his eyes all fire and anticipation.
When she unlocked the door and pushed it open, she didn’t reach for the light switch, instead letting the glow shining through the front windows guide them through the apartment.
30
Mardi Gras
Only when she stepped into what Aunt Sophie referred to as her front parlor, just off the balcony, did she turn on a lamp—one operated by a dimmer switch. She kept it low, both to protect her true identity and create a seductive mood.
Next, she walked to the French doors that led onto the balcony. As much as she wanted to be alone with Ty, she also regretted having to leave the infectious decadence of Mardi Gras behind. On impulse, she opened the doors wide, admitting the sounds of music—snippets of Dixieland, jazz, and Zydeco all emanating up from the street below.
With it came the vague static of voices, laughter, and the wafting aromas of sweet pralines and any number of spicy Cajun delicacies. It all drifted inside, seeming to inhabit the room with them.
She’d dropped by the apartment on the way home from work yesterday to situate everything just the way she wanted it. Turning to see the kitchen chair she’d placed in the middle of the parlor floor reminded her that—with her passion already at a fever pitch—she’d best put her strategy into play before he grabbed her and started kissing her and the whole plan was forgotten.
“Sit down,” she said. Not too harsh or bossy. Just a request.
He moved toward the sofa that rested against one wall.
“No. There.” She pointed to the wooden chair.
He lifted his gaze. Grinned slightly, uncertainly. “Uh, why?” She returned a small, pointed smile. “Just do it, lover.” He tilted his head in speculation, as if maybe he was tuning in to the idea that she was about to fulfill his private desires—then he moved toward the chair and took a seat.
Of course, the way he was looking at her now made her simply want to leap on him and decide Screw the plan, so she had to work to stay calm in order to go on. Still, her thighs ached and her cunt pulsed with need. Even her arms and hands felt heavy, hungry. Pure want soaked her entire body in a way she’d never quite experienced before.
31
L
acey Alexander
“What now, baby?” he asked in the sexiest, raspiest voice she’d ever heard leave his mouth.
This is what it’s like to be his lover, she thought.
But, no—that hot anticipation leaking from his eyes was only the beginning of being his lover, the before part.
She felt herself taking steps toward him, her shoes clicking across the polished hardwood without her consciously deciding to go. Suddenly, he was like a magnet to her. Reaching him, she boldly lifted one leg across his lap, her skirt rising nearly to her hips as she straddled him.
His hands came to rest low on her outer thighs, skimming quickly upward, past the lace tops of her stockings, under her skirt, onto the thin elastic strap of her panties. A low growl left him and her entire body pulsed, heavy as the beat of a drum. Her pussy pressed against the delectable length of his cock through his jeans, setting off waves of pleasure that felt like tendrils stretching out through her cunt. No, this is what it’s like to be his lover. Or it was getting damn close, anyway.
“Kiss me,” she said feverishly.
Their tongues met at the precise second their lips did, in a warm, sensuous connection that felt natural and right, the sensation melting through her like ice cream left out in the hot Louisiana sun.
She never made the conscious decision to begin unbuttoning his shirt, but the buttons slipped free beneath her fingers, one by one. His hands left her hips, then grazed her sensitive breasts as he worked at her buttons, too. Each kiss grew more intoxicating until she was finally pushing his shirt from his shoulders, running her hands over the muscles there, splaying her fingers across the broad, sexy expanse of his chest.
Mardi Gras Page 3