by JA Huss
“You sure the fuck can,” I mumble.
“But you’re horny and shit, Fletcher. You live for sex. Cole is…”
“Boring? Blind? Gay? Maybe he’s more interested in Claudio?”
“Oh, God.” Tiffy bursts out laughing. “Claudio wouldn’t sleep with Cole if he was the last man on earth. He thinks Cole’s pudgy. Besides, he’s sort of in lust with Steve.”
“My Steve?” I laugh. My cock starts to calm down with the fun conversation. “They’d make a good couple, actually. Maybe I should set the two of them up instead. Keep you for myself?”
She laughs a little more, but her arms are still swaying above her head and she does another little dip before standing back up and turning her back to me. She peeks over her shoulder like a flirting professional, batting her eyelashes, a move that never works on anyone—except me, right here, right now—and says, “I’m not your type, Fletcher. I’m serious and conservative. And you’re not.”
She turns her head, and I have to look in the hotel window to see the reflection of her face. Her eyes are closed now. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should let you teach me how to seduce him with a lap dance.”
And then she stops and walks over to the dining table and pulls out a chair, facing it towards me. “Here. Sit. Let me at least try.”
I’m suddenly without words. But my feet know when to accept an invitation that my brain has a hard time coming to terms with. So two seconds later I’m walking to that chair. “Your move, Miss Preston.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fletcher is easy. He’s always looking for a fuck. Cole is not.
Fletcher is a professional seducer. Cole is a professional… well, professional.
So maybe Fletch is right? I need to make Cole want me. I need to make him desire me. I need to seduce him. And I think I can do the dancing. I’m not inept at that. I’ve been clubbing with Claudio enough to have those moves down.
I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. But I had that with Fletcher. I was witness to one of the best flirts in the business as he tried to seduce me. So all I really have to do is be the Tiffy Preston version of Fletcher Novak, right?
But if I think about who I’m practicing on too hard, then I’ll lose my nerve. So when Fletch gets to the chair, I push him into a sitting position.
“What?” Fletcher laughs.
“Shhh,” I say, laying a single fingertip across his lips. “Don’t talk or you’ll scare me off.”
His mouth drops open but he stays silent.
I think back to the rock earlier today. How he was moving his body in front of my face. Demanding my attention. I take a step forward and straddle his legs. The sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs brushes up against his soft sweat shorts, and a shiver runs up my legs—straight through my core.
Just the thought of my panties rubbing against his hard cock is enough to start the throbbing. So I bend my knees a little and lower myself down. Just enough to brush my pussy over the open air between his legs.
I reach for his hair and when I brush the tips of my fingers against his scalp, he lets out a small, “Fuck.”
“Like this, Fletch?”
He nods. His eyes are trained on mine. I have his complete attention. “Yeah,” he whispers, and swallows hard. “That’s pretty good, Tiffy.”
I ease forward, my hips swaying back and forth just above the waistband of his shorts, my legs pressing hard against his. And then I ease down into his lap.
I like this, I realize. I like him. It’s dangerous, I know that. But I can’t stop now. Not even if I wanted to, and I don’t.
The moment my clit feels his cock, I let out a breath of desire. Will he fuck me again if I go too far? Or will he stop himself and obey his own rules? Should I try for it? Should I try to make Fletcher Novak want me?
But his hands on my ass again blow away my thoughts. He’s playing along. He rubs the muscles under my dress, and then a moment later they’re underneath. Caressing that tender spot between my upper thighs.
I want him to take it further. I want him to want me. But I don’t know what to do next. So I hear myself ask, “Now what?”
“Now,” he growls, “you close the deal.”
“How?” I whisper, leaning into his neck like he did earlier.
He grabs the hem of my dress and lifts it up, exposing my thighs and rubbing them all at the same time. “Take this off.”
Jesus. If I do that I have a feeling we might not stop. I know he’s a one-night guy and we had that already. But what if I succeed at this seduction thing?
“Do it, Tiffy. Stand up and take the fucking dress off. You make him crazy, just like I make those girls crazy on stage.”
A striptease, I realize. He wants me to do a striptease. “I don’t know—”
But he stands up and pushes me back. “Take the dress off.” He sits back down on the chair and leans back, spreading his legs slightly and getting comfortable. Like he’s ready to enjoy a show he typically gives instead of gets.
I’m suddenly flushed with embarrassment. I just know my face is turning red. But I want to do this. I want to learn how to make a man crazy with lust. I want to make Fletcher feel that insane, overpowering want he made me feel last week on the roof. The kind of want that drives men mad. The kind of lust that makes a man throw away all caution, and inhibitions, and rational thought. The kind of desire that has him screaming in his head, Fuck the consequences. I want him to crave me so bad, he can’t say no. I want that power, and I want it bad. “Where do I start?”
“Tease me,” Fletcher says. “With your dress. Lift it up, give me a peek, and then drop it again.”
I blink a few times. But the power is within my reach. I can feel it. I might not be a sex witch, but Fletcher Novak is about to be under my spell. So I grab the thin fabric and start rubbing it up and down my thighs. He lets out a breath, watching my fingertips as they do a dance with the dress.
He scoots forward in his chair and wraps the warm palms of his hands behind my knees.
I am immediately wet. I can feel it pooling in my lacy underwear.
He rubs small circles against the sensitive skin on the back of my legs and it feels so good, I lift the dress up and show him my panties.
“Fuck,” he mutters again.
I let the dress fall, and then lift it again. My body starts moving now, the way he does when he’s performing. I close my eyes and enjoy the beat of the music in the background.
“Take it off, Tiffy. And make it sexy.”
“How?” I say, opening my eyes so I can stare at the desire in his face.
“Slow,” he says, gripping me harder and pulling me towards him.
I bite my lip and think about all the ways I can make this more seductive. I turn, making his hands drag across my thighs until my back is to him. He starts rubbing my upper thighs, inching higher and higher as I continue to sway.
I reach behind me and grab the zipper of my dress and drag it down a few inches. “Pull it down for me, Fletcher.”
His hands take advantage of every opportunity on their way up my back. He caresses my hips, presses the pads of his thumbs into the muscles on each side of my spine, and then reaches around as they travel upward, brushing against my nipples, turning them into tiny peaks.
I moan when he withdraws them, grabbing the back of my dress and the zipper with each hand. I lift up my hair with both hands to give him access and find myself throbbing with anticipation.
The zipper lowers with a small ripping sound, and then his hot mouth is on the bare skin in the middle of my back. One hand finds its way under my dress again, and he presses his fingers against my clit.
“You’re wet,” he says.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper.
“Don’t try.”
I slip one strap of my dress over my shoulder and look back at him. His hands are eager now, one tugging my panties aside and his fingers finding their way into my wet folds.
“Watch me,
” I say, looking down at him. “I want you to watch me.”
“Fuck.”
I take that as a good sign, and slip the other strap down my shoulder. He gives the dress a little tug, and it falls away from my breasts, landing at my hips.
I turn back around to get a better look at his face. His eyes immediately find my cream-colored lace bra. He cups both breasts in his hands, squeezing hard.
I moan from that. God, I want him. I probably want him more than he wants me right now. I want all that hard stuff he did up on the roof.
Patience, that little voice in my head says. Give him a show. This is all about anticipation. So my fingertips find the bunched-up fabric stuck on the curve of my hips, and I shimmy a little. Until it works its way over the hourglass shape and then falls to the floor with a soft whoosh.
I swallow then. Hard. I’m not naked yet. But I am standing here in his room, exposed and vulnerable. His gaze takes me in. Every inch of me. And then his hands are exploring. He cups my breasts again, and that hard squeeze comes with it. He pulls one bra cup down and exposes my nipple so he can take it in his mouth.
He sucks and bites. Not softly, but not enough to make it too painful to endure. Just enough. Just. Enough. To make me crave his cock inside me.
I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra and let it hang there, the way he did this afternoon on the rock.
But this time he waits for me to take it off. His hands slide down and rest on my hips, caressing the bones that protrude slightly underneath my panties.
“Don’t stop now,” he growls.
I have no intention of stopping. But I can’t say that out loud. So I lean forward enough to allow gravity to let the bra slip down my arms and fall to the floor.
He stares at me.
I shift my feet in my heels, making them click on the tile floor, and let him look.
His mouth presses into my belly, his hands pressing into my thighs, and then he is kissing me in a tender way that takes me by surprise. Almost everything about Fletcher is hard. His muscles. His cock. His attitude. His gaze.
But his mouth is soft in all the ways I’ve ever dreamed of.
“Should I…” I swallow. “Should I take my panties off?”
He looks up at me, still kissing my stomach, still rubbing his hands up and down my legs. “Only if you want me to fuck you.”
I stand there silently for a moment. We watch each other. I’m filling up with questions, but the only things I see in him are answers.
Fletcher Novak is my answer to every mystery there is.
So I thread my fingertips under the slim elastic lace and work the panties down the curve of my body the same way I did the dress. He watches my face as I do this. And my heart skips a beat.
Never have I felt so naked.
But then he moves his gaze down to the action and leans back once more. So he can take in the view. So he doesn’t miss the show. So he can enjoy himself.
My final piece of clothing falls to the floor and once again I step away from them. And in the process, I move closer to him.
I’m begging inside. Begging.
“Fuck me,” I say. “I want you to fuck me right now like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
There is always a moment when you realize things have changed. You see a girl from across the room and something grabs you. Her legs, maybe. Or her hair. Or the look in her eyes. You can’t explain it, that feeling is just there. You watch her walk, you listen to her talk, and it’s never enough. You just want to stare at her. Take her all in. Memorize her. It doesn’t make sense, but that feeling is there.
I get this feeling now. Tiffy standing here in front of me. Naked. Exposed. Wanting me.
And I have two choices. Yes or no.
It feels like everything hinges on this moment. Like life will flip upside down either way.
Say no and it will hurt her. I know that. If I tell her no, she’s never coming back. She’s never going to make this offer again. She’s never going to let down her guard for another man, period.
Whatever little piece inside her that’s damaged can be cured with one nod of my head. But shake it the other way and that damaged piece grows a scar. A scar that might never go away.
And maybe I’m full of myself. Maybe I’m delusional to think that I have this kind of power. But I saw the look on those girls’ faces the other day when they came to confront me for the scars I gave them.
I can’t do that to Tiffy. I can’t. I know it’s wrong. She wants someone who can take care of her and I’m not capable of doing that. So if I was an honest guy I’d give her that scar and hope for the best. Because saying yes to this tonight means I will just crush her later. When she finds out who I am, what I’m doing, and how many lies I’ve told. All for money.
If I was a good guy, this wouldn’t even be an issue. I’d put her clothes back on and tell her we can meet up tomorrow to get the guy she really wants. Cole. Cole, the man who can provide for her. Cole, the man she’s been fantasizing about for years.
But he’s not what she thinks he is either.
So even though I’m breaking all my rules, even though I’m going against all my instincts, and even though I’m gonna regret this in the morning, I say…
“Sit on my lap.”
She spreads her legs to straddle mine and eases herself down onto my legs. I can feel the heat of her desire through my shorts and when I look down at her pussy, her lips are spread open, just slightly, giving me a peek at her clit.
I look up at her face. Her long brown hair is draped down her shoulders, the tips reaching for her perky nipples.
I reach behind her, cup her ass, and hike her closer to me so that her opening is pressing against the hard bulge in my pants.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
“Where?” she asks back in a scared, quiet voice.
“Anywhere you want.”
She reaches for my face and strokes her fingertip up and down my cheek. It’s tender and sweet. And it takes me back for a second. I expected her to touch the hard muscles of my chest. Or the hills and valleys of my abs. Or grab hold of my shoulders like she never wants to let go.
Not the face.
“You’re beautiful,” she says, letting the word out with a long, slow breath of air. I laugh, but the pad of her thumb touches my lips to make it stop. “No, really. People look at you, Fletcher, and they ask themselves, ‘Why don’t I look like that?’”
“No one wants to be me, Tiffy. I promise you.”
“You’re wrong,” she says. “Everyone wants to be you. You have everything at your fingertips. You’re smart, and gorgeous, and happy, and outgoing, and confident, and sexy.”
I feel even worse for taking advantage of her right now. Because I’m so far from all those things, she has no idea. “Sexy is on the inside, Tiffy. The inside is the only thing that matters.”
“You can say that because you’re one of them. One of those beautiful people who don’t realize how lucky they are.”
I huff out some air. “I could say the same thing about you, ya know. You’re all those words you just used to describe me. Only you’re the real deal.”
Her lips tugs down to make a frown and she shakes her head. “Fuck me. I just want to feel you against me tonight. And I promise, I won’t overreact tomorrow when everything goes back to the way it’s supposed to be.”
The way it’s supposed to be. I have a million questions about that statement. But I want her too. I want her mouth on my mouth. I want her legs wrapped around me and her heart beating against mine as I enter her.
So instead of talking, I give her what she’s asking for. I cup her ass and stand up, walking us over to the bed, then bend down and lay her on the rumpled covers, spreading her legs as I ease in between them.
“It’s your turn now. To watch.”
I step back and reach for the waistband of my shorts. Her eyes are fixed on my actions. And when I tug a little,
exposing the light trail of blond hair that hides under the fabric, my thick, hard cock is growing as I release the waistband and let the shorts drop to my ankles and kick them aside. I step forward, grab her hair with both hands, and press her face up to me.
Her breath is hot, and then her tongue is pressing against my shaft. She opens her mouth and begins to kiss the fabric of my boxer briefs. Softly.
Everything Tiffy does, she does softly. She is gentle and sweet. And this just makes me want to love her. Not fuck her, like she’s asking. But love her. Even if it’s just for one night.
So I fist her hair and push her back again, until she’s lying all the way back on the bed, and my hands go to my boxer briefs. She swallows down something. Maybe fear. Maybe regret. Maybe something else.
But she’s waiting for more, so that’s what I give her.
I yank my briefs down and step out, kicking them across the smooth wooden floor where the shorts are in a pile. At the same time, I lean down and kiss her stomach. Small, light, fluttering kisses that aren’t part of my normal repertoire. I swirl my tongue around her little belly button. There’s no piercing. No tattoos on this girl. No rebellious pink hair or edge to her voice or mannerisms that scream, I’m a rebel.
Because she’s not a rebel. She’s a nice, sweet girl.
So I’m gonna fuck her the way she deserves.
Her fingertips thread through my hair, urging me lower. But I go up instead of down. I fist both of her firm breasts as my mouth finds her nipples. She moans, and spreads her legs wider underneath me.
We are naked. Skin against skin. Not like the last time when it was hard and fast and we were partially clothed.
I take my kisses up to her neck and she shivers from my soft touch. I kiss her diamond earring and then breathe softly into her ear. “Fuck,” I say.
“Please,” she begs me back.
I scoot up a little more, kneeling on the soft mattress with my knees pressed against her ribs. My fully erect cock is reaching for her. The tip bumps up against her lips and she opens her mouth to let her tongue dart out. She swipes it over my head and then she reaches for my shaft as she opens wider and urges me forward.